The scruffy-haired little boy kicks a stone while the other watches him do it.

The two things are unconnected. Your question didn't make sense.

"Please don't..." The boy's eyes well up as he looks at you. They're dark and round. The wind tussles his hair.

"Don't start crying," his brother says, then, in a whisper, adds: "I'm sorry."

The other boy straightens his back. "I'm not gonna start crying, stupid," he snaps, regaining control of his quivering chin.

"It's okay to kill yourself, you know. I'm gonna blow my brains out. Gonna close this one final case and then blam -- I'm outta here."

"Your father did not kill himself."

"I don't know..." The boy who made the claim finds himself unsure of it. He looks around.

"Someone lives on the island?"

"No," the boy answers, shaking his head vehemently.

"Yes." His brother looks at him, then at you.

"Let's go with yes." The lieutenant raises his eyebrows and whips out his notebook.

"What then?"

"No, some other island. Of course that one."

"Okay." His brother answers for him.

"I need you to tell me what you know about it -- what's on the island?"

"Hey, boys. Your sister told me you got in trouble for saying bad words."

"Yeah." The boy turns a rock over in his hand. "We heard bad words and said them, and got in trouble..."

"Bad words," the other says, nodding absent-mindedly. "Bad, bad words..."

Say fuck. It'd be HILARIOUS.

It would be hilarious, my man! Live it up! Say FUCK!

Conduct yourself with some dignity. You don't need to swear in front of the children.

Wait! Stop everything. Back this up. What are bad words?

Pipe down Puzzle Face, this is a Code Red situation! If we review all the bad words, that's only going to add more temptation to saying them -- in front of the children. And we do not want that.

"Bad words are bad. Don't say them, kids. It's a first step to a life of crime."

"We won't," the little boy says. He adjusts his cap in the cool air.

"We learned," the other replies.

Good on you. I know you were tempted to shout fuck, but you controlled your impulse. Well done.

"Let's move on. Where did you hear the bad words -- was it from someone on the coast? The radio?"

"We just heard funny voices." The boy shrugs. His jacket whispers as his shoulders move.

"We thought the voices were funny." The brother nods. "We said what they said and then we got in trouble..."

"Where did you hear them? Did you overhear someone say them? Was it on the radio?"

"Radio? What's that?" The boy sniffs up a drip of snot. "We just heard them. In our head."

Could it be? Do their minds work in the same way?

Voices from another self? Voices from a deeper self? Voices from... early schizophrenia?

"Voices in your head? Like little bleeps and bloops of information?"

"No." The boy shakes his head. "Just people talking real fast."

"Okay. What did you hear?"

"Uh..." He scratches his head. He looks at his twin, who nods -- and then he begins. "It was like... 'It is time at last, my nasty speedfreaks! Our brotherman is about to grow up!'"

A memory stirs. You've heard this quickfire patter before.

"'DJ Flacio's big boy debut single is here! Buckle up, because this is the fastest trash that you're ever gonna hear.'"

"'Turn up the volume, blow those speakers out. Now here's---'"

"No!" The brother cuts in, suddenly and sharply. "Don't say bad words, stupid!"

Why, what a splendid rendition these two rapsssssssssscallions have offered us here today! Faultless memorization! Perchance they'll enjoy greatness as a double-act in the Performing Artsss.

"A word when you're done." The lieutenant clears his throat. His eyes are wider than usual.

The boy draws a jagged rock across the ground. It leaves a white scratch.

Elsewhere in Revachol, the Lieutenant switches on the radio. His head rocks subtly to a violent track. He needs to hear this story.

"Any family history of schizophrenia?"

"Is that a bad word?" The boy blinks at you.

"Sure. But what words did you hear?"

"No. Just tell me what you heard."

"'Fuck' is the bad word, remember? But tell me what you heard."

"What do you mean you 'heard them in your head'?"

"You know." He points at his head. His fingers are red from the cold. "I heard people talking. Except just in my head!"

"Fuck."

This is a shame and a disappointment.

The boy blinks. "Fffff...." Despite his efforts, the unfamiliar word catches in his mouth.

COME ON BOYS, YOU CAN DO IT!

"Ff..." The other boy tries. He looks at his brother for understanding, then at you. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. What happened? Where'd you hear bad words? Was it from someone on the coast? The radio?"

The lieutenant is deeply unimpressed.