Conversation · Trant Heidelstam

"In fact, I'm not. The Wompty-Dompty-Dom Centre," he says casually, "is a place you can visit if you're ever in Vredefort, and are ever in the market for an exhibition space slash contemporary art research centre." He clears his throat.

"But perhaps I should return to the tape computers. As I was saying, the device itself was very elegant, fragile even. One could write directly on the tape using a special chemical solution. The machine would then analyse the handwriting, perform operations and project output onto a white screen. It was a beautiful, delicate thing."

Made of black film and folding tape structures...

"Pfft. I've seen cooler things than that."

"I certainly haven't." He shakes his head. "Though I understand the socio-economic causes of the Revolution, it pains me to imagine the revolutionaries setting fire to this precious device. But so they did. The Feld Playback Experiment vanished into the fires of '07."

"Why did the revolutionaries destroy it?"

"Who knows? Maybe it was an accident, or maybe they didn't want the technology to end up in the wrong hands. Either way -- they're all gone now, all three versions of the prototype. Nothing but debris and ashes remains inside that building." He takes a step back; the boardwalk creaks mournfully in the wind.

Two seagulls circle in the sky. You look up and think: really? Or was there a fourth prototype that remains hidden in the mausoleums below Coal City?...

All of this sounds like something Ruby would be interested in...

"Wait, the Feld Playback Experiment?"

"Yes, the official name of the prototype. Some sources report it as the Feld Playback Experience, but those are incorrect."

"The RCM should get some of those."

"Even one would be very useful," he agrees. "Though I understand the socio-economic causes of the Revolution, it pains me to imagine the revolutionaries setting fire to this precious device. But so they did. The Feld Playback Experiment vanished into the fires of '07."

(Nod.) "Cool."

"Very, very cool," he agrees. "Though I understand the socio-economic causes of the Revolution, it pains me to imagine the revolutionaries setting fire to this precious device. But so they did. The Feld Playback Experiment vanished into the fires of '07."

"You're making this up." (Turn to his son.) "Hey, is your dad making this all up?"

"Come on, there is no place called the Wompty-Dompty-Dom Centre of Arts."

"Actually, I think there is..." He pauses. "No, it's too much, he's joking."

"I wanted to ask something else..."

"But of course! What else?" He smiles and ruffles his kid's head.

"You're saying that Feld Electrical built this boardwalk?" (Look under your feet.)

"Yes, they even built a pleasure wheel, but that got destroyed in the war."

"A pleasure wheel?" The lieutenant looks wistfully at the horizon, as if picturing gondolas rising to the sky.

Perhaps reminded of a childhood memory? It's clear he would prefer there were a big wheel lighting up the coast.

"Yes. To lure in their star engineers. This part of Martinaise was nothing but reeds before Feld arrived. They had to make the prospect of living here attractive. It was supposed to become a global centre for innovation in cybernetics -- but history had other plans."

"A wheel?" The kid looks wistfully at the horizon, as if picturing gondolas rising to the sky.

"A-ha, but it's not just any empty old building!" He raises his hand to his eyes to shield himself from the pattering rain. All three of you turn to admire the mural before you.

"A-ha, but it's not just any empty old building!" He raises his hand to his eyes to shield himself from the freezing snow. All four of you turn to admire the mural before you.

"A-ha, but it's not just any empty old building!" He raises his hand to his eyes to shield himself from the freezing snow. All three of you turn to admire the mural before you.

"A-ha, but it's not just any empty old building!" He raises his hand to his eyes, springtime sun warming his handsome face. All four of you turn to admire the mural before you.

"A-ha, but it's not just any empty old building!" He raises his hand to his eyes, springtime sun warming his handsome face. All three of you turn to admire the mural before you.

"This is a long-shot, but could you help me contact the Coalition?"

"Well, that certainly depends. You know, the popular image of the Coalition is of a monolithic politico-military entity, but in reality, it's comprised of many interconnected, yet semi-autonomous components..."

"For instance, the offices of INSURCOM are responsible for military affairs. These offices are located in the Bank of the World building, just a few kilometres from here..." He points west toward the skyscrapers across the bay.

"But then there's also the Provisional Commission, as well as the Institute for Revacholian Culture, with its architecturally significant headquarters in Le Jardin."

"That's all fine, but what if I want to assign responsibility?" (Proceed.)

"Ah, that's simple! You're looking for the Comité de Responsabilité de Revachol. It's a sort of clearinghouse for Coalition affairs in Revachol..."

Yes, this is just the sort of reasonable authority you're looking for!

"If you will, picture the Coalition as a kind of wheel. The hub of this wheel is the Comité de Responsabilité, and out from that hub radiate a great many spokes, which connect to INSURCOM, the Institute for Revacholian Culture, the Provisional Commission, and so on..."

"If you're not part of the Coalition, how do you know so much about its bureaucracy?"

"I have a longstanding interest in political systems. You see, it's my personal theory that political systems are a lot like personalities. In other words, how a state organises itself is in some way the public expression of its innermost character..."

"What is the innermost character of the Coalition, then?"

The man smiles at you for a long moment...

He is doing his best not to show it, but the smile is ever-so-slightly more forced than before.

"Of course, officer, we've only recently met. It would require a more thorough conversation than we have time for to answer a question like that. It's fascinating to think about, though, isn't it?"

"Alright, fine. How do I get in touch with the Committee?"

The man's smile turns into a frown. "Well, now, that is rather complicated. You can write to the Committee directly, but I understand that there's quite the backlog. A month or more, according to friends of mine who just so happen to know about this sort of thing..."

"Of course, if you could somehow contact Coalition Warship Archer, you could reach the Committee directly. But, well, that obviously presents any number of logistical and technical challenges."

"Wait, what's Coalition Warship Archer?"

"Why, officer, it's that gigantic aerostatic right over there. Have you really never noticed it before?" A look of profound concern comes across the man's face.

You follow the man's gaze out toward the west. There, hanging some distance above the horison, you can just make out a strange silhouette...

It looks, to your eye, like some kind of long, metallic fish, suspended beneath a number of ceiling fans...

Not just any fish, it moves like some ancient bottom-feeder gliding over the ocean floor in search of prey...

Don't let the paintjob fool you, it's a goddamn killing machine, and there's nothing you can do to stop it!

It's about four-and-a-half kilometres from your position, you estimate.

"It looks like a fish."

"That's very interesting. Most people I've met say it reminds them of a giant metallic dragonfly, but of course there's no right way to respond to a massive airborne artillery platform..."

"It looks like a killing machine."

"Ah, well, it is one of the most heavily armed aerostatics to ever fly. I've heard it said that the Archer is capable of engaging whole fleets of lesser vessels from multiple sides simultaneously. How about that?"

"Huh. Can't believe I never noticed it before."