Conversation · Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife

"Yes, we're in Martinaise, on the coast of Revachol."

"Revachol is the disgraced capital of the world. Something like that?"

"Yes, great, see -- we're getting somewhere. What else do you know about our city of splendour? Tattered as she may be..."

"All I know is that Revachol used to be really cool in the Thirties."

"The New! Disco dancing! It seems like a lifetime ago..." Her eyes are filled with light reflected off those gilded years, when the city seemed full of possibility.

"Much has changed, but it is still the most beautiful city in the world, a rare jewel set in the sand between the pines. Everyone says so, even foreigners." There's a pause as she studies your expression. You must look quite lost.

"Speaking of history -- you know what year it is, yes?"

"I know it's the '50s, but I'm not sure about the year."

"Good, dear, you got the decade right! It's the spring of '51."

Though she praises you, it is clear that she was taken aback by your response.

Outside, the melting snow seeps into the cracks in the walls and the cobblestone streets. All the way down into the sewers... Above ground, the first May bells blossom. You can feel it. A great cold. Then the shiver passes.

"I can tell that this is taxing for you, so I'll just ask one more question. What regime are we living under? What mode of government?"

"I believe Revachol is being managed by something called... the Coalition?"

"Precisely, sweetie! Revachol is what's called a Zone of Control, led by an alliance of foreign powers. We have almost no government of our own, sadly..."

"If there's no government, how come there are cops?"

"Oh dear..." She shakes her head, suddenly very worried. "And you were doing so well. There aren't any cops in Revachol, not in the traditional sense. The status of law enforcement has been a complicated matter since the Revolution..."

"But we should stop for today, sweetie. You look like you need a break. Besides, I'm not the best person to explain the big things to anyone..."

She's scared now. She's realized you really are brain damaged.

"So -- how did I do?"

"You were doing quite well up until the end there. It does look like you're having trouble remembering things. History and places. Remembering Reality, in a word. It's very odd..."

A sigh. The lieutenant buries his nose in his notebook.

"But -- maybe a fresh set of eyes is what the world needs? And -- while I'm no doctor -- such bouts of amnesia are often temporary. So I wouldn't worry too much."

She means this sincerely. Worrying won't do you any good.

"You didn't do too well, dear. It does look like you're having trouble remembering things. History and places. Remembering Reality, in a word. It's very odd..."

"Who could tell me more?" (Conclude.)

"Someone more educated in sweeping matters? Maybe you should ask..." She turns to the lieutenant.

"No." He looks away. "I'm not an encyclopedia. I won't be a guide either. I'm a detective."

"Of course." She turns to you. "Then I don't know. Someone rich maybe? Wealthy people are educated. Though I don't know where you would find a wealthy person in Martinaise..."

That's a good point. This doesn't look like Rich Central.

"Someone more educated in these things than me? Someone rich, maybe? Wealthy people are educated. Though I don't know where you would find a wealthy person in Martinaise..."

"Well... I'm not sure, detective. I'm sorry. Wealthy people tend to be educated, but you're not likely to find one of those in Martinaise..."

"What is the Revolution you mentioned?"

"A defeat, I'm afraid. The people of this archipelago tried to build something new, something different. The rest of the world didn't like it, so they came and ended it. This was forty two years ago."

"But I'm a cop. Whatever it was hasn't stopped me!"

"Of course, sweetie, I... I really don't know how to explain it better."

I'm just a poor woman, she thinks. What do I know of these things -- and how can I help you?

"What does that have to do with there not being any cops?"

"It has something to do with everything. I really don't know how to explain it better..."

"Oh dear, this is troubling. You really ought to know that -- being one yourself. There aren't any cops in Revachol, not in the traditional sense. The status of law enforcement has been a complicated matter since the Revolution..."

"I don't even know what to say. I'm so disappointed."

"It is quite disappointing, yes. A lot of people would like some form of representation. There's talk, but... for now, the RCM is all we've got."

"Our leaders are fierce warriors who traverse the plains on steeds. Civilization cowers before us."

"Oh... no, nothing like that, dear. Revachol is a Zone of Control, led by an alliance of foreign powers called the Coalition. We have almost no government of our own. And certainly not one who's horseback."

Of course. You've arrived at a weak world, where no one appreciates animal husbandry.

"Radios are being used to control people's minds and distort our perception of reality, concealing our true masters: foreigners and women."

"Oh... no, nothing like that, dear. Revachol is a Zone of Control, led by an alliance of foreign powers called the Coalition. We have almost no government of our own. And certainly no matriarchy..."

She's trying to avoid the foreigners part. This is because she's a woman. She may be lying to you...

"I'd like to think it's the dictatorship of the proletariat, but something tells me it's not."

"Oh sweetie..." she smiles a sad smile. "It's really not. There used to be people who thought that way -- other people, who wanted those things -- but... they all went extinct."

"Revachol is a Zone of Control, led by an alliance of foreign powers called the Coalition. We have almost no government of our own. And certainly no dictatorship of the proletariat."

But they still have cops...

"Cop. We are living under the cop-regime."

"Actually..." She raises her finger. "We are not. You could say that about almost any other nation, but not Revachol. Try one more time, officer -- what mode of government?"

Damn it, I was really hoping it would be a Cop World. Okay, well, let's see...

"Some kind of democracy maybe?"

"Nope. Sadly not. Revachol is what's called a Zone of Control. Under an alliance of foreign powers called the Coalition. We have no government of our own and what democracy we have is..." She thinks. "Market driven."

Meaning: buying is voting.

"We are governed by intelligent machines that perform calculations to determine the freest market. Everyone hustles and grinds like a bad ass visionary."

"Oh... no, nothing like that, dear. Revachol is a Zone of Control, led by an alliance of foreign powers called the Coalition. We have almost no government of our own -- certainly no machines."

I don't know... still looks like there's a lot of hustling going on. Maybe she's wrong. Also...