Conversation · The Hanged Man

The corpse looks ageless, like meat on a hook.

Teeming with opportunistic micro-organisms, letting out a foul-smelling diamine compound. Your eyes turn watery...

"We've heard a nom de guerre -- Lely. It's better than nothing. Write it down."

Write: Lely (nom de guerre).

"N/A -- next?"

"4. Date of birth:"

"Shouldn't we file the coroner's case under me? Technically, I arrived at the scene before you."

"And what would that make the alphanumeric?"

HDB41-0803... help me out with the time of day anyone?

Lets say 13:00 -- a good time to start drinking.

11:11. It's meaningful.

10:15. It's understated.

"HDB41-0803." (No time of arrival.)

"Good. Let's go with that."

The lieutenant is quite surprised you managed to come up with an adequate case number.

"I have no idea."

"I do: KK57-0503-0815."

Write it down.

"HDB41-0803.1111"

"HDB41-0803.1015"

"HDB41-0803.1300"

Leave it empty.

The corpse lies there, indifferent to your retrograde amnesia. The next box says:

Write: Harrier Du Bois.

Write: Tequila Sunset.

Write the initials: H.D.B.

Write: Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau.

Write: Harry Du Bois.

Write: The Gloaming.

The corpse is indifferent to time of the Dead Light and Great Culling, just lies there. The next box says:

(Begin.) "1. Assistant:"

"Let's pause this autopsy."

"Let's." The lieutenant nods.

The corpse does not object, he lies slumped to the side stinking. The ground underneath him is saturated in purge liquids.

You stand there with the ledger open like a lonesome idiot, realizing you have no idea how to conduct an autopsy without the lieutenant, who is out there doing something immeasurably serious.

Search the body one more time, thoroughly.

"First, what exactly is a field autopsy?"

"Come on, officer." He pulls on a pair of latex gloves. "You know what a field autopsy is. You've done a hundred of them."

What you do know is: at 18.9 km, the dormant shield volcano Corpus Mundi is the world's highest summit; and the failure of the '38 single 'Et Puis Du Sang' to crack the Top 20 was the death knell of disco. But -- what a field autopsy is? You have no idea.

(Clap your gloved hands.) "Let's get in there."

"There truly is a time for everything -- even for yellow gardening gloves." He nods approvingly. "However, they are lacking hygienically. I suggest you get in there in limited capacity."

"I don't know. What do you mean?"

"I mean when I need you to. Until then -- I should handle physical contact and you should take notes."

You're being handled. If you resist now he will turn on his heavy duty authority mode. You'll get your chance to dig in -- later.

"Okay. Where should I take these notes?"

"In your paperwork, officer. Just fill out the field autopsy form." He sighs, already expecting the answer.

"You're not gonna believe this -- I think I've lost my paperwork."

"Now they only have one paperwork too..."

"Officer, what haven't you lost?"

"My shoes. I have both of them. I found the other one too!"

"Good. Otherwise you would only have one shoe, now..." He looks at his notebook.

"I can give you my paperwork -- there's an autopsy form there. Several actually. But only if it helps move things along."

"I should have just brought a dictaphone," he mumbles.

"Let's go find mine. We have to find it sooner or later."

As the words leave your mouth -- there it is again! That strange feeling, like there's something in there...

Begone strange feeling.

Good call! Never mind that old trash containerlurching there, full of bad old news...

"I guess you've got to start finding at least some of the things you've lost, before they hurt someone..." He sighs.

"We should locate your ledger, then hurry back to the autopsy as soon as possible."

"If we must, then we must. Police paperwork is confidential material, officer..." He sighs.