"With due respect to our overlords, the eternal caretaker government that keeps Martinaise a monument to the efficacy of its artillery..."
Conversation · Joyce Messier
Speakers · 28
- Joyce Messier
Drama
Conceptualization
Inland Empire
You
Kim Kitsuragi
Encyclopedia
Empathy
Endurance
Logic
Esprit de Corps
Rhetoric
Visual Calculus
Perception (Hearing)
Half Light
Reaction Speed
Authority
Suggestion
Savoir Faire
Electrochemistry- Horrific Necktie
Volition
Composure
Shivers- Perception (Sight)
Lilienne, the Net Picker
Cindy the SKULL- Perception
When
An appropriate warning to those who'd cross the line and pull the city into madness once more...
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While a gentle wind sweeps the streets in the rebuilt East, light drizzle washing it clean, lights go up and motor carriages circulate the tracts...
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"I would not have relinquished sovereignty to the Coalition. Not here in Martinaise -- and not in the Stella Maris or Delta beachheads either. If not for my own sake..."
"... then for my daughters'. We had an obligation to defend our sovereignty. We should have burned the whole isola down rather than let them have it."
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"Yes, whatever else I am, I'm also a mother. And a wife." She closes her eyes, then opens them again. "Now -- shall we return to reality?"
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"Perhaps." Her earrings chime as she nods. "My intellectual vanity will be my undoing."
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"I hope we are able to continue as friends despite my scaly bulk. And the treacheries committed by my people against the Suzerain and the Commune."
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"I hope we are able to continue as friends, despite my deeply felt need to infiltrate and betray the Revolution. And then ensnare you to financial seruice."
"I hope we are able to remain friends despite my scaly bulk and my love of regicide and homo-sexuality. The loss of sovereignty was not our plan all along, I assure you."
"I hope we are able to continue as friends despite my scaly bulk. And my intimidating liberal credentials. This was not the plan all along."
"I hope so. I hope we are able to continue as friends despite my scaly bulk. And the insanity, bloodshed, and transfer of wealth that took place here. It was not the plan all along."
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"Ah, you know more than you let on..." She gives you a coy little smile. "Philosopher-Detective of Precinct 41."
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"Ah, maybe you remember more than you let on..." She gives you a coy little smile. "Despite whatever brain damage the alcohol may have inflicted."
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"I'm afraid you'll find that every woman is a Devil Woman, detective. There are only aesthetic differences between one and the other."
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"I do hope so," she bows. "I hope we are able to remain collegial despite my monstrousness. The ultras didn't have anything against the king or the Commune, you see. It was just business."
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"I hope you do. I hope we are able to continue as friends despite my scales and my need to infiltrate and betray your precious Revolution."
"I do hope so," she bows. "I hope we can remain collegial despite my affection for regicide and multiculturalism. We didn't mean to kill the king, I assure you."
"I do hope so," she bows. "I do hope we're able to remain collegial despite it all. Tell me, when you look in the mirror, do you not see a monster staring back at you?"
"I do hope so," she bows. "I hope we are able to remain collegial despite it. Remember, we were partners, whether you like to admit it or not. There's blood on many hands, I assure you."
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- "That's a pity," she bows. "I hope we can remain collegial despite my monstrousness. The ultras didn't have anything against the king or the Commune, you see. It was just business."
- "I do hope so," she bows. "I hope we are able to remain collegial despite my monstrousness. The ultras didn't have anything against the king or the Commune, you see. It was just business."
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"That's a pity," she bows. "I hope we can remain collegial despite my monstrousness. The ultras didn't have anything against the king or the Commune, you see. It was just business."
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"That's a pity," she bows. "I hope we can remain collegial despite the fact that I'm a high priestess of capital. Don't take it personally -- it was only business, as they say."
"That's a pity," she bows. "I hope we can remain collegial despite my affection for regicide and multiculturalism. We didn't mean to kill the king, I assure you."
"That's a pity," she bows. "I do hope we can remain collegial despite it all. Tell me, when you look in the mirror, do you not see a monster staring back at you?"
"That's a pity," she bows. "I hope we can remain collegial despite it. Remember, we were partners, whether you like to admit it or not. There's blood on many hands, I assure you."
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You feel that she won't like the answer -- just as it's leaving your lips. Even more -- it will hurt her.
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"A fitting punishment," she smirks. "To be forgotten, if not forgiven. Save a prayer for us in our châteaus on Ozonne and in Stella Maris."
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"No," she shakes her head, slowly. "Not like me. I am the nether creature of the forbidden swamp, who pushed the king under a shitwagon and betrayed the Revolution..."
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"Are you liberated enough to offer up your home on a plate for financial colonists?" She looks you in the eye. "No, I think not. Tell me -- now that I've uncoiled myself -- do you find me frightening?"
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"An ultraliberal, it's a type of liberal. From the Revolution. It's... not the moderate kind."
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"Haven't you heard?" She nods, pedagogically: "I am a nether creature of the forbidden swamp, one of those who pushed the king under a shitwagon and betrayed the Revolution..."
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"We surrendered the nation to financial colonists. No sane person identifies as an ultra anymore. Not in broad daylight." She looks you in the eye. "Tell me -- now that I've uncoiled myself -- are you repulsed?"
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"We surrendered the nation to the financier pirates. No sane person identifies as an ultraliberal anymore. Not in broad daylight." She looks you in the eye. "You're a man of the left, a true communard. Tell me -- now that I've uncoiled myself -- are you repulsed?"
"We surrendered the nation to the financier pirates, no sane person identifies as an ultraliberal anymore. Not in broad daylight." She looks you in the eye. "You've got Revachol in your blood, a real nationalist. Tell me -- now that I've uncoiled myself -- are you repulsed?"
"We surrendered the nation to financier pirates, no sane person identifies as ultraliberal anymore. Not in broad daylight." She looks into your eye. "I can see we're not so different, you know. Tell me -- now that I've uncoiled myself -- do you find me frightening?"
"I can see you thought I'd gone extinct. No sane person identifies as an ultraliberal anymore. Not in broad daylight." She looks you in the eye. "You're a centrist at heart, a real moralist. Tell me -- now that I've uncoiled myself -- do you find me frightening?"
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"Tell me about this world again?"
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"What world?" The fading pearls of her eyes look to the sea. "The only one, I suppose -- the world of matter and its pale antipode..."
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"Great bodies of water, forest-covered surfaces... clusters of light where the cities lie. You've seen the montage, we all have -- this world is enough," she concludes.
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It must be. This is the greatest and kindest arrangement the atoms had in them.
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- "Of bodies of water and forest-covered surfaces, clusters of light where the cities lie. You've seen the montage, we all have -- this world is enough," she concludes.
- "Great bodies of water, forest-covered surfaces... clusters of light where the cities lie. You've seen the montage, we all have -- this world is enough," she concludes.
A frisson lifts the hair on the back of your arm. Wind sweeps the surface of the bay.
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"There is a term of endearment they coined for it. In the Dolorian century, when humanity was high on this world, discovering more and more of it -- these archipelagos included..."
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- "Indeed. There is a term of endearment they coined for it. In the Dolorian century, when humanity was high on this world, discovering more and more of it -- these archipelagos included..."
- "There is a term of endearment they coined for it. In the Dolorian century, when humanity was high on this world, discovering more and more of it -- these archipelagos included..."
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"Not in this case, no. That sounds more like something the Mesque petrofascists might say..." Her gaze wanders.
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The Confederate Republic of Mesque -- the world's largest state by territory -- has fallen into an especially nihilistic strain of nationalism lately.
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Her eyes return to you. "It isn't enough to call us animals. Even animals aren't animals."