Ledger of Oblivion

It's just toilet paper, sticking to the back of the plastic clipboard. You can take it off if you want.

Maybe it's kitchen tissue? They look exactly the same.

If you want it to be kitchen tissue, it can be kitchen tissue.

It's not though. It's toilet paper.

(Leave it there, it's cool.)

Mhm, cool toilet paper... I mean kitchen tissue.

It says: everyone look at me and my kitchen tissue covered cop ledger! I don't care. My ledger is droopy and smells like a urinal. Not a new addition, though. So keep that styling case open, my friend...

This stinking tissue will show everyone what a bum you are. How little you give a shit. This toilet paper will PUNISH the world.

This toilet paper will show everyone what a bum you are. How little you give a shit. This toilet paper will PUNISH the world.

It says: everyone look at me and my toilet paper covered cop ledger! I don't care. My ledger is droopy and it smells like a urinal. Not a new addition, though. So keep that styling case open, my friend...

It says: everyone look at me and my kitchen tissue covered cop ledger! I don't care. My ledger is droopy and it smells like a urinal.

It says: everyone look at me and my toilet paper covered cop ledger! I don't care. My ledger is droopy and it smells like a urinal.

Way cool.

(Take it off.)

Still wet, the toilet paper -- I mean kitchen tissue, sorry -- peels off the plastic easily. All you have to do is shake it off your finger, and voilà, the ledger now looks (marginally) better.

Still wet, the toilet paper peels off the plastic easily. All you have to do is shake it off your finger and voila! The ledger now looks (marginally) better.

Inspect the clip.

An aluminium block runs the width of the board, biting down on the paperwork. Its crocodile teeth are the only thing keeping the papers together. On it, the perforated watermark counting the achievements of the person you used to be.

A bunch of sodden papers sag from the clipboard in your hand. It's a sorry sight.

An aluminium block runs the width of the board, biting down on the paperwork. Its crocodile teeth are the only thing keeping the papers together. A regular pencil, the tip worn down to nothing, has been attached to the clip.

Run your finger across the aluminium.

The surface is interrupted by a silvery sticker. It's rectangular, sparkling with iridescence. You don't know how you didn't notice it before...

Looks like an official mark, made to be low visibility outside the right circumstances.

It is similar to the RCM watermark on your blazer the lieutenant mentioned. Didn't he say something about the headlights of his motor carriage? That you can read these there?

"Lieutenant, is this one of the hologram watermarks you mentioned?" (Point to the sticker.)

"What?" He is lost in his own notes. It takes a moment for him to see it. "Yes, a halogen watermark used for adding information to RCM property."

"That's all, thank you." (Conclude.)

"Okay." He returns to his neatly kept notes...

...while a bunch of sodden papers sag from the clipboard in your hand. It's a sorry sight.

"Interesting. What kind of information?"

"It depends. Aside from an anti-counterfeiting stamp, mine has my station number and address. The information varies by date of issue."

Maybe yours will have how many cases you've solved?

How many years you've been on the force, he's thinking. It'll have that.

Your kill count. Yours will surely have your kill count.

"How can I read it?"

"Any capable light with the right wavelength will do."

"Before, you mentioned the headlights of your vehicle?"

"Yes." There is a pause. "RCM vehicles have headlights tuned especially to reveal halogen watermarks."

This means you can read the watermarks, if you just turn the lights on.

The lieutenant fears this will lead to fiddling with the delicate, folding headlights on his motor carriage. They're dear to him.

The lieutenant would rather not have you rummaging around, looking for the lights in his vehicle...

"Like -- for example?"

"All RCM vehicles have headlights designed to reveal halogen watermarks. Mine too."

"Hey lieutenant. What is this?" (Point to the sticker.)

"What?" He is lost in his own notes. It takes a moment for him to see it. "That thing? It's a halogen watermark. We use it for adding information to RCM property."

Forget about it for now -- how is the rest of this thing doing?

Not good. A bunch of sodden papers sags from the clipboard in your hand.

What can I do?

You should turn them on and get in front of those headlights -- see what happens. There may be information on there, a halogen watermark he called it.

When I get the chance. (Accept.)

It'd be nifty if you found something that way, wouldn't it? The papers still sagging from the clipboard in your hand -- not so nifty.

Not interested, Logic. I don't take orders from anyone. (Decline.)

Obviously, yes. The papers still sag from the clipboard in your hand. It's a defiant sight. You're a hero.

What is this?

To be honest: you have little to no idea. You're dumb. And alone.

Somewhere -- not here -- the helpful Lieutenant Kitsuragi is making notes in his blue notebook. He tilts it ever so slightly, a glowing rectangle catches the light. He could advise you with this. The next moment...

Enough of the clip. (Back.)

Slide the hidden drawer open.

Can I read the case files now?

Yes! You can piece them together using the alphanumeric code on the margin. It always begins with HDB41, then date of initialization and time of arrival on the scene. Followed by the title. For example: HDB41120117:00 (THE NEXT WORLD MURAL).