Conversation · Joyce Messier

"This... reality?" She pulls her hood closer around her neck.

Yes, reality is your side-case.

An experimental side-case.

The aim is to gain a deeper understanding.

"I got so drunk I forgot literally everything."

"What?" She chortles, nearly spilling her tea.

"I went on a three-day bender and now need you to explain the world to me."

"Such an acute encephalopathy... just doesn't seem possible." She puts her beverage down and stares at you. "Surely you're joking..."

"Don't be fazed, madam. He functions perfectly well. He only needs a... lowdown on all of reality."

"We may be here awhile, then." She takes a long sip to clear her throat. "Ask away, officer -- I'll help however I can."

All right. We're in. I know these all look good, but begin with the first, okay.

"That's all for now." (Conclude for now.)

"Glad to have been of assistance -- the little that I know.... anything else?"

"Glad to have been of assistance -- the little that I know. Anything else I can do?"

"What is pale?"

"We've been through this -- ask something else or let's return to work."

He truly, truly doesn't want you to know.

What is it, what is it, what is it? You can feel it -- something pushing against the other side of a locked door. You must find the key!

"Go ahead, officer -- ask me something else." The woman looks at you attentively.

"Are you sure you're sure? Your colleague seemed adamant..."

"Yes -- what is the pale?"

"Okay." She concedes. "The pale is the most dominant geological feature of the world, detective -- the separative tissue between the isolas. It is the interisolary mass."

Your stomach grumbles approvingly... the reality rhizome is opening up before your very eyes.

"Okay... what is the pale like?"

"Achromatic, odourless, featureless. The pale is the enemy of matter and life. It is not like any other -- or any thing in the world. It is the transition state of being into nothingness."

The negation of being.

"The negation of..."

"That's right -- the negation of being." She tightens her hood around her neck, it's cold outside.

"How much pale is there compared to the world?"

"The pale outweighs reality two to one -- there is more pale than there is matter. And the ratio is slipping."

"Slipping how? To our detriment or..."

"What do you think, detective?" She looks you in the eye.

"It's shrinking. There is more and more of the world."

"Oh no, detective -- it's not. One of the few measurable effects of the pale is that it is expanding at an unknown rate."

"An intuitive conclusion of that development is that one day the pale will cover everything -- but this sort of talk is mostly left to extremists."

"Cover everything? That can't be. Where would we go..."

"Most people -- and indeed most private and government sector organizations; entire civilizations and religions even -- find handy ways to ignore, or downplay that knowledge."

"I suggest you do the same."

Off we go... you see the hanged man's mouth open.

"Off we go into the wild pale yonder."

"One and all," she closes her eyes. "They say pale is death, but for the Universe."

Why should we just leave and leave -- and the world get left behind?

Gulp.

"It doesn't look like you're doing the same. The suggestion was meant in earnest, detective. Live life."

Stay silent.

"It's not extreme at all. It's going to happen."

"It's growing. There is more and more of the pale."

"Precisely. One of the few measurable effects of the pale is that it is expanding at an unknown rate."

"Let's return to reality, please." (Conclude.)

"Yes, sweet reality," she stomps her foot. "But before we do, tell me detective..."

"Is this the first time you're hearing this? Do you really not remember anything?"

"I sometimes sense vague shadows of a past, and it's not good."

"Then tell me -- what do you think of the pale?"

"That we continue to persist at all is a testament to our faith in one another."

"Hmhm..." Her eyes tense. Crow's feet radiate from them. She observes you: your bloodshot eyes and swollen face.

Your ailing constitution, sweaty forehead, the beads there and your heavy breathing.

"You really didn't know. This does not spell good for the investigation, detective. If you don't know even this, then..." She stops mid-sentence.

"This investigation will be my masterpiece. The one they remember me by. I promise."

"I hope so, I truly do. If I may suggest -- hold on to your colleague Kitsuragi. I ran a check on him and he is very competent. In the meanwhile..."

Some of that assurance is meant for herself, as much as it's meant for you. She must have a lot on the line here.