Conversation · Klaasje (Miss Oranje Disco Dancer)

"No, there is nothing on Mundi. The Old Old World is dead and we both knew it. Come to think of it, maybe Oranje did bring us together -- in loathing."

No love for Mother Oranje? But wasn't he a soldier? This could be worth pursuing.

"Did that bring you together?"

"You were right, officer." The lieutenant nods, sportsmanlike. "He was Occidental."

"You were almost right, officer." The lieutenant shakes his head, like you just missed a shot in darts. "That means his race was Occidental, not Mondial. I'll update the form."

"Perhaps, miss, it was communism that killed him?"

"A moment ago it was love... And, no, I don't think the Union is communist. They're a couple of shades pinker than that."

"They're not hard core in that way is what I'm trying to say. What are we talking about anyway? This politics shit is a lot in the morning. Is it even morning?"

I think she's just tired. She doesn't know what you meant by that -- and can you blame her?

You could blame her a little. It was a pretty straight forward question that she refused to answer.

"Is the Union communist? They're a couple of shades pinker than that, no? Social democrats."

There is a little slip of questions that keeps everything in order. The questions are inside a blue notebook. The notebook is inside the lieutenant's pocket. Before the questions leave your mouth, you realize he should be here for this.

"Hm? Oh -- I'm guessing your partner should be here too?" She taps the ash from the end of her cigarette while you stand there in silence.

"Lely?" The lieutenant takes out his notebook. "That was his name?"

"As I already told your partner, I didn't actually know his name. I just called him Lely -- it's short for Lelystad, where he came from."

"It was his army name."

"Yes, he said his real name wasn't his. I tried to pry it out of him, but he never gave it up -- no matter how hard I tried."

"Lelystad. That's a good start..." The lieutenant writes it down in his notebook...

...then tears out a page and hands it to you. "We have a few questions you can help us with. A few things a field autopsy alone can't answer."

The young woman cranes her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the page the lieutenant passed to you. On it is a list of autopsy observations, recorded neatly in blue ink.

The last missing pieces of a puzzle of flesh.

Everything left to be clarified is in the column on the left.

...then starts tearing out a page, but stops mid-motion. "It just occurred to me, colleague," he says, turning to you. "We still haven't performed a field autopsy on the deceased."

"The questions I have assume some kind of foreknowledge on our part. I suggest we go and perform it now and return once we've brought ourselves up to date."

"No, I want to ask the questions now."

"Miss," he says, turning back to the young woman. "Excuse my colleague -- he has recently suffered brain damage. We will now go and do our duty cleaning up the deceased."

"You won't have to look at that sight much longer, I promise. We will return soon." He turns to leave.

There is no talking him out of this -- and no, the incident has not had a good effect on his opinion of you either.

"I have other questions first."

"All right, but quickly. She has endured that sight long enough." He nods toward the yard. "It's time for us to do our duty."

The young woman nods in silent approval. Then feeds herself another cigarette.

"Okay, let's go."

"Excuse the delay, miss," he says with a nod toward the yard. "This situation will be addressed now. We'll be back soon."

The young woman nods, then proceeds to feed herself another cigarette as you leave.

"Like -- for example -- his name?"

"Actually, officer, I didn't know his name. I just called him Lely."

"A nickname?"

"I guess. He came from Lelystad -- it's short for that. And it was his army name, apparently. He said his real name wasn't his. I tried to pry it out of him, but it was no use."

Where in the GRIH is the lieutenant? Possibly speeding from one terminal to another in glorious solitude? Wherever he is, you need him -- your other questions will make little sense without him here.

Wait! Where's Kim? The man with all the notes -- he needs to be here for this.

You should record her responses, but you do not have a notebook. Kim, on the other hand, does.

Hold up. Don't go it alone -- it's a marathon, and you'll need support. Get Kim before you go any further.

"A nickname?"

"Sure, I can try. What do you need?"

"His name?"

"The Hardie boys gave me a recording. They say it proves the deceased's intention to commit rape."

"It sounds like the boys would have preferred my saying it did happen." A sigh. "I didn't want to get caught up in this..."

She is not at all worried the tape will contradict her statement.

"What does that recording say?"

"We are in the process of listening to it. But haven't -- yet."

"May I suggest the stereo system in your partner's room? It's... unapologetic when it comes to volume."

"Mine unfortunately only comes with a mimsy little radio."

"No can do."

"Ah, something happened to it? Another broken thing in a line of broken things. Quite a shame." She takes a drag. "Well, perhaps you'll find another one."

"Unfortunately, it is completely busted."

"Ah, another broken thing in a line of broken things." She takes a drag. "Well, perhaps you'll find one elsewhere."

"May I suggest the stereo system in your partner's room? If it can handle the songs of the coming Apocalypse, I'm sure it can handle this too."

"May I suggest the stereo system in your partner's room? It produces stratospheric, bedazzling sound. All night long..."

"May I suggest the stereo system in your partner's room? I'm sure it plays more than OO and the Sad Small Church Band..."

"May I suggest the stereo system in your partner's room? I'm sure it plays more than OO and the Sad Small Church Band..."