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[callbacks]

[Remember that one Spectre randomly accosting people for interviews on fuck all? Looks like some teenage D-bag in shades actually saw fit to entertain her questions. Oh dear. The brief interview doesn't get nearly as much unreal air as li'l Miss Invidia of poisonous fame, but it's playing here and there today. The brief clip might not merit any attention at all, except...]

...local establishment you think more Invidians should know about?

[The kid lights up suddenly without actually smiling, rising up a little on the balls of his feet with his hands still jammed in his pockets.]

Shit, dawgs, you have no idea. You got yourselves a national--or, like--at least a municipal treasure sitting like a bereft and sack-clothed widow at the corner of Ignored and Abandoned. You assholes don't know what you're missing. It's a downright indignation, the lack of patronage enjoyed by this magnificently unironic piece of shit business modeling. Hold on to your asses because I'mma need you to get 'em parked pronto-mundo in the chairs at Mr. Dudeguy's BBQ and Foot Massage-While-You-Wait.

[He takes a breath, and it's at this point the interviewer really should have moved on, but it's too late. It's always already too late.]

Got a long-standing nation in my imagination
All staycationing in line at the bee-bee-queue,
Awaitin' pork and grilled onions while Granny get her bunions
Caressed lovingly in the hands of a master in toe-fu,
By which I mean podia-shiatsu-jutsu-fu,
Though you could probably order tofu, too, I mean, I ain't the boss of you
If that's the shit you want to order smoked and spice-rubbed for you.
Uh, anyway,
All I'm sayin' is it's the sweetest jerk-and-rub of a release
Your mortal soul can experience post-cease.

[...Did he just--]

You know, if that's how you feel about it. Anyway, yeah. Check it. Cat does a sweet kebab.

[In any case, business is now booming at BBQ and Foot Massage-While-U-Wait. Lines are out the door and around the block. A full street away, a hunched, furtive-looking blond is bargaining in desperate, hissed tones with a seller of hoodies.]

Please, no, I'm begging--no. I can't give you the sunglasses, I'm on a strictly no shades-trades platform. Can't you just--holy shit.

[Sensing someone looking at him, he stiffens and turns away further. He will ollie off this entire layer if he has to, Jesus.]

Comments

[mementomoritz]

[She flaps a hand dismissively, seemingly unworried at the whole situation.] Oh, I can always come back and figure something out later- you seem like you're in a hurry.

Besides, I'm only a little myopic- it's what, -3.00 diopters at most? I just need to avoid trying to operate any motor vehicles until I can get them back and I'll be fine!

[callbacks]

[Well. At this point, Dave's sort of autopiloted into holding the hoodie against himself. Looks like it'll fit. And the Spectre titters to himself and tells Medic "Sold!" as he squints himself through her prescription lenses.]

Uh... [Well, he isn't going to argue with words like "diopters" and negative numbers with decimal points.] All right... I'm not signing autographs or anything, though. Not unless you've already got a pen.

[On goes the hoodie, up goes the hood. No time even to take the tag off. His shit is SAFE.]

[mementomoritz]

I have at least seven pens on me at all times. [What if something scientifically interesting happens and she can't take notes on it? Unacceptable.]

But I don't think I need an autograph for anything? I'm just keeping an eye out for other Eidolons.

[callbacks]

[...]

You're scoping out idols?

[How many times can he get away with half-deliberately misinterpreting the same exact word in the same exact way...]

[mementomoritz]

[Cheerfully, without missing a beat:] Them, too!

Although I guess that's really more Autumn's job... Or maybe Veil's, she seemed really enthusiastic about it.

[callbacks]

Yeah, uh, you lost me at "too." Or maybe "although."

[mementomoritz]

An Eidolon is a dead person who knows they're dead. [Given the amount of obscure medical jargon she lapses into when she gets excited, she's pretty used to explaining herself.] Like us!

Spectres are the ones that don't know, and just go through the motions of being alive- like these guys. [Gesturing generally at the passersby.]

[callbacks]

...Aaaand you think I'm...?

[mementomoritz]

Well, either you're an Eidolon or the bar for self-awareness is a lot higher than I thought! But since you didn't seem confused when I told you about the dead bits, I'm pretty sure it's the first one.

[callbacks]

Shit. You saw through my completely uninformed disguise that I had to base on nothing on account of knowing shit about fuck all. That disguise was about as transparently flimsy as a single wet ply of toilet paper itself masquerading as a sexy ghost's "tastefully" applied square of bedsheet. What I'm saying is that disguise might as well not have existed. Which I guess it didn't, I just wasn't sure if your sniffing out Eyedolls was good or bad for me so I thought I'd play kinda coy with it.

[mementomoritz]

[Medic giggles delightedly at the sudden flow of wordplay.] It was such a small disguise, I didn't even realize you were trying to disguise anything at all!

[She looks a little more serious as she continues, though.] You might have the right idea, though- I'm definitely happy to see more Eidolons around, but she might not be. [Pointing discreetly at the nearest screen- which is, of course, showing yet more footage of Esme.]

After seeing that footage of you, I don't think there's much chance of keeping it secret. Compared to the Spectres, you're a little too... well, I guess "lively" is a bit ironic, as words go. Unlively?

[callbacks]

Maybe the word you're looking for is 'real.' As that's what I'm constantly keeping it 24/7, sloughed free of my mortal coil or not.

[Still, his gaze follows her finger over to Esme's ubiquitous visage.]

...What's she got against spirits being slightly more spirited around here? Doesn't look like she's got rights to complain about anyone after-living it up.

[mementomoritz]

Oh, I think she mostly wants to make sure no one can become an Executor- someone with powers. [Just flat-out saying it, what's a secrecy.]

They're supposed to maintain the afterlife, from what I hear. And if things start working like they used to, with people eventually reincarnating... well, it's hard to say exactly what happens, I haven't been around that long. But it would definitely be a big change!

I guess no one really wants everything to change after they've finally gotten it all just the way they want.

[callbacks]

...Huh, okay. I think I follow.

[He tilts his head a hair as he ties together the threads of her explanation.]

These powerful Executor dudes are supposed to be around to maintain things and get people moved along to their next rounds of Life, the Universe, and Everything, but right now shit's fucked and some people are okay with that, like whatserface on TV. What you're trying to say is she might try to nip me in my pre-executive bud before I can make problems for her.

[mementomoritz]

[A cheerful nod.] Yep, that's pretty much it!

[A beat, and then:] Also, she tried to poison a bunch of us to death a little while ago, so she's definitely taking it seriously.

[callbacks]

Damn. At least it didn't take, I guess?

[mementomoritz]

Everyone's on track to make a full recovery! [She might not be sure about much, but she's confident in her medical diagnoses.]

I'm still trying to figure out how she made it... Whatever she used is definitely something unique to the afterlife, I've never seen anything exactly like it before! [At least someone's having fun.]

[callbacks]

Would you remember if you had, though.

[Jussayin'.]

[mementomoritz]

Hm... [She gives it due thought, it's an interesting question.] On one hand, there's the amnesia. On the other hand, my medical career is really the only thing I do remember from being alive.

I guess it could go either way!