Conversation · Sunday Friend

"I have nothing to say to you. Get out of my sight."

"Was there anything else?"

"Can you tell me about your friend?"

"My friend, my friend, what about him?"

"You still haven't told me who he is."

"Sorry, who?" The man throws a quick glance at his watch.

"Your friend, the smoker on the balcony. We were just talking about him."

"But I told you, officer. He's a bright young man here to pursue his education. Education is the foundation of our future, especially the arts. It is a cornerstone of our civilization."

"Fine, but what's his real name?"

"Officer, you have to understand... I can't give you his personal information. I'm sure you have your own methods and databases, right? Please don't put me in this situation."

"So all you can tell me about him is that he's here to study the arts?"

"He's deeply enmeshed in the study of the fine arts, yes."

As though you weren't envious enough of the boy as-is.

"Which arts?"

"He's a truly free spirit. He likes all the arts. Perhaps graphic design? Printmaking? Who knows? The world is open wide for a talented youth like him."

"Your friend, Martin Martinaise."

"No, that's not his..." the lieutenant sighs. "Martin Martinaise is a joke, a generic nickname for someone from Martinaise."

"And my friend's not even your typical local -- definitely not just another Martin Martinaise or Raoul Revachol. Maybe that's why we're friends."

"He's a bright young man here to pursue his education. Education is the foundation of our future, especially the arts. It is a cornerstone of our civilization."

"Martin Martinaise? That's not a name. Are you referring to my friend? But I told you, he's from Kedra -- definitely not just another Martin Martinaise or Raoul Revachol. Perhaps that's why he and I became friends..."

"What's Kedra?"

"Kedra is a candidate member of EPIS. But, between you and me, their potential membership is a more... contentious issue."

"What do you mean?"

"That it's never going to happen. They entered negotiations in '21 and it's been pending ever since."

"What's this EPIS thing you keep talking about?"

"EPIS is a very special program developed by the Moralintern to support certain Occidental nations. It began as a unified system of weights and measures, which proved to be a wild success. Nothing but kilograms and centimetres as far as the eye can see!"

God, yes. Sweet standardisation. The backbone of rationality -- and commerce.

"It was such a wild success that we expanded it into an economic union for the processing of steel -- another success. And between you and me... the Moralintern feels emboldened by this success. Emboldened to take EPIS to the next level."

"What's on the next level?"

"A supranational political alliance, the United States of Occident."

"Is it going to be like this place here?"

"You mean Revachol? No, it's going to have transparent democracy."

"Is Revachol going to be part of EPIS?"

"It's one day going to be a candidate member of EPIS, sure."

Except that candidate members never become full members, do they?

"Didn't you say that candidate members never become real members?"

"No, no, candidate members do become members, why do we even have the whole system in place if they don't? It just takes time -- time and evaluation."

"But we were talking about my friend here, not politics..." He chuckles gently.

"Okay, but like, what does it stand for?"

"Why, it stands for progress and stability, like the Moralintern as a whole."

"No, what do the letters stand for?"

"It's been such a wild, extraordinary success thus far. We are very excited to take it to the next level..."

"You don't even hear the words I'm saying, do you?"

"Sure, fine. What's this next level you were talking about?"

"But that doesn't tell me anything about Kedra itself. Is it warm there? Cold? Something in-between?"

"It's warm," he nods. "It's also known for its mandarin trees and dust storms from Supramundi."

"Kedra's an emerging market, but it still has a long way to go -- maybe that's why my friend's ménage decided to emigrate."

"I had something else in mind..."

"I'm all ears, officer."

"What are you doing in his apartment by yourself?"

"I'm just enjoying the view," the man smiles, nodding to the window.

"Enjoying the view? There's a dead body hanging in the tree!"

The lieutenant sighs. "A dead body we still need to get down, by the way."

"Listen," he says, raising his hand...

A baby is crying in the neighbouring apartment.

Waves crashing in the distance, the sound of sea below the window.

"I can hear the waves."

"The Insulindian Bay."

"I was asking about your friend."

"My friend comes and goes. I'm sure you'll see him around, he's a busy bee."