Conversation · Damaged Ledger

Synapses can be rerouted. The mind takes a new shape.

Not for yourself -- for the people of Revachol.

For the eighty thousand under your jurisdiction.

Under Precinct 41, where typewriters fire long into the night, and officers walk the great steps and the bridge. Long after the card has landed in the cold shore waters, its writing dissolved. Material disintegrated.

The wind carries the keepsake away from you -- to the southwest, the pale violet dot disappears.

What was in there?

No. You should not have thought back at it... Now some of it is on your mind again.

Look at the ledger again.

The Ledger of (Oblivion Induced) Mental Health is just as shabby as the Damaged Ledger was: a bunch of sodden papers sags from the clipboard in your hand.

The Ledger of Oblivion is a special item that can be used both as an INTERACTABLE and a TOOL equipped in your hand for skill bonuses. Find it under the TOOLS tab in your INVENTORY.

Put the ledger away. [Leave.]

The Ledger of (Oblivion Induced) Mental Health is just as shabby as the Damaged Ledger anyway. A bunch of sodden papers on a clipboard. Better not to waste more time with it.

The Ledger of Oblivion is a special item that can be used both as an INTERACTABLE and a TOOL equipped in your hand for skill bonuses. Find it under the TOOLS tab in your INVENTORY.

Hold on to it. Read the card.

Your hands shake holding on to it. "Every morning, when I step out and you're asleep behind me," it says. "I find a little piece of sadness in me. I carry it in my chest down Voyager road..."

"Every step I take, it grows. By the time I reach the fuel station it has filled me entirely. I step on the light rail and look back, sparks fall from the bow collector. I know it will be like this until late afternoon, when I get off the 42 -- and walk back to you..."

Keep reading.

"You, you... Every step I take will get lighter. It almost makes me run! Sometimes I do. I can't believe I met you. I can't believe the happiness I feel with you. You have a vast, vast soul and I will always, always, always come back to it."

Keep reading.

"Kisses, kisses, kisses." You feel the air sucked out of your lungs and the blood sucked out of your head. Everything around you gets dark. Small white dots appear...

Sparks fall like snow from the bow collector. A street-car distancing...

You feel the ledger slip from your hand.

No! No! Hold on.

Hold on.

To what? There's nothing...

"Detective, is everything alright?"

Fall sideways.

"Kisses, kisses, kisses." You feel the air sucked out of your lungs and the blood sucked out of your head. Everything around you gets dark. Small white dots appear...

Stop, put it back...

You jam the compartment shut, it's hard to breathe. The air in your lungs feels sour somehow. The drawer is locked, blue ink drips from the white pages in your hand.

Your hand shakes. You're flushed with adrenaline.

What was that?

Frisson covers your entire body. A feeling of cold. A persistent chill.

Outside you hear the wind howl. A sudden gale blows in from Martinaise, flapping street signs and window blinds.

COME OUTSIDE.

I'll take this outside. [Leave.]

What?

Far away and outside... the reeds hiss with desperation. Step out.

Keep reading.

Your hand shakes, holding the card. "Every morning when I step out and you're asleep behind me," it says. "I find a little piece of sadness in me. I carry it in my chest down Voyager Road..."

Put it away!

Your fingers are sweaty. There is a sweat mark where they held the wax paper. The card lies next to the ticket stubs.

Put it back.

Smell it first.

It smells of chewing gum -- apricot flavoured.

Exactly like the gum wrapper you found. The same brand of chewing gum...

A touch of cinnamon, the end of summer. You think the label says: 'Tutti Frutti'.

You feel that thing in the back of your head? That little voice, that quiet scream? You already felt this was a bad idea, but especially right now it's even worse. Try as you might, you can't read it now.

You've got business to deal with first. Talk to the Union boss first, at least... I can't stop you for long, but there's just enough of an excuse now.

Close the permeables' compartment.

It's slightly -- ever so slightly -- difficult to breathe once you've done so. The drawer is locked, blue ink drips from the white pages in your hand.

What's inside?

Two ticket stubs and a handmade postcard.

Fuck no -- put the ledger away. [Leave.]

...is STILL NOT WHAT HAPPENS. Fuck this compartment. You should throw it away.

Strange? Why does it make you so angry?

...is not what you end up doing. You squeeze the plastic to slide it open, but nothing happens. Then you bend it some. Then crack it. The god damn thing is stuck.

A hot flash of rage comes over you. For a moment there -- before it recedes -- you feel as though you might just squeeze a tear of anger out of your duct. Makes you wonder... why?

It's unjust, that's why. You can't even get to that thing anymore!

The fucking drunks, it's their fault. You should've drunk the liquor out of that fucker's SKULL...