When the previous story didn't happen, what is bound to follow? Those worlds will mingle again. Hopefully this time, aided by a humble traffic attorney's pursuit for truth, things will make more sense.
An awareness of/familiarity with the stories of the predecessor will help, with more thrown into the mix this time: Fearblog of Fear, Dreams and Sleep and Fear, and the works of Archangard & Magreat. With each new instalment of PLAN 31, the stakes of "stories to be aware of" rise.
Note: This one's still in production and likely will be for a while. I'm writing it under a more mature lens (or so I like to think). As a result, this post is subject to change.
Many posts spread over multiple planned episodes of courtroom drama and absurd(ist) mystery. Currently on the first Intermission.
"Coffee's dark fragrance," the voice said through a tin filter, "a cheese and onion sandwich wrapped in thin paper, the overcast sky letting out a bit of sun, a bench to overlook an idle street-- these are some of my favourite things as I wait for God to meet with me. He takes his sweet time. By the time he gets to me, I see Him flirting with another girl, this one from the pirate shop. He flirts with all the girls. He acts like it's a perk of his job." GoogleBot looks at me and beeps lightly. "Anyway, then God sees me and asks if I want Him to buy me a pint. We get together every Thursday. Shoot the breeze. Been friends since high school. You wouldn't believe the things that guy got up to in college. But suddenly, out of nowhere, God pulls out this knife and threatens me with eternal damnation." Another voice asks the speaker if that was the moment he 'did it.' The speaker says yeah.
I hit stop on the tape recorder and look back at GoogleBot. "A confession. He copped to it. How are we supposed to defend him?"
"BEEP BOOP MAYBE HE WILL TAKE BAIL."
"Don't you understand? The plaintiff is God. You can't just get away with bail when God sues. He wants to take it all."
"GET THE JURY ON YOUR SIDE?"
"If we can even get a jury who'll listen."
"WHO'S PROSECUTING?"
"Angelo."
"THEN YOU MAY beep HAVE A CHANCE."
I sighed. "Yeah, but it's gonna be a lot of hard work. But this is what happens when Batman punches God."
Hello, readers. DJay here. There was a time when this blog contained different posts, about nine or so instalments suggesting an extensive story with zany characters and conspiracies, a suitable sequel to PLAN 31: CLOSE ENCOUNTER OF THE SOCK KIND. But then there was two years of silence. I worked on other blogs, I retreated into the labyrinth of introspection, I occasionally looked back at the idea of a finished PLAN 31 sequel but kept shirking it. I just couldn't really get back into the groove of the ideas I once had.
But now there is hope. A saviour of words has entered the blogosphere, and his name is Christoph Magreat. I read his The Blog Without a Face as well as his masterpiece Viceking's Graab, and I thought it would be extraordinary to see what he could do with an established "canon." So I met with him up at Hitler's Walk, proposed the idea to him, and told him as much of the "series bible" as he wanted to know. He told me he'd ruminate on this.
Today he came to my house. He showed me a stack of papers written in the most elegant, legible, fragile handwriting I've ever seen. The papers contained maps, character lists, infrastructures, essays, outlines, it contained the whole lot. I looked up at Christoph and asked him if this was a "Yes."
He told me it was a "No." But that his daughter had said "Yes."
I had no idea the esteemed blog artist had a daughter. But she's taken over the mantle of running PLAN 31, and she will most certainly bring you the sequel you've always wanted.
I had to report to the King's Court at nine in the morning, sharp, to attend the preliminary hearing for my client. On my way there, driven in my limousine by GoogleBot, I took a look at my case files.
CASE PL-111: Batman Turnabouts God Charge: Assault Defendant: Batman Plaintiff: God
Sketch artist's representation of plaintiff.
Presiding Judge: The Supreme Hat
Sketch artist's representation of defendant.
All that in order, I rested my head and watched the countryside sail by. At the time, I thought nothing of truth, justice, or the pursuit of freedom. I thought only of the pizza I'd be having for lunch. Nor did I consider the haunting ramifications that this case would have on my career to follow. Again, I was just thinking about a pizza. Looking back on it now, my life seemed so tranquil, oblivious to the mysteries of identity and fate I would soon drown within. Seriously, I was oblivious to all but that pizza.
We arrived seven minutes late. GoogleBot blamed traffic.
King's Court, situated in Dekan city centre (immediately opposite the big park with the swing set), is a sight to behold. Its architecture, ripped straight from the pages of the Baroque movement, emphasizes its corps de logis with plafonds and parapets beyond compare (except maybe to the palace its design was ripped off from). I won't name any names, but I will place this plafond here for comparison:
Now, inside the court, the architecture is bafflingly eclectic. Some rooms are giant and flashy, some are small and modern, staircases sometimes vanish, the elevators rarely work, but the courts themselves are always identical. There's the judge's seat overlooking the room, opposite that is the witness stand, and then perpendicular to these are the benches for the prosecution and the defense.
Frank Slenderman: Ace Attorney
Defense, that's me. My name is Frank Slenderman, attorney at law. I mostly handle traffic stuff, some minor drug charges, the occasional breaking and entering. That day, I was called in to handle assault. I thought, then, that I was moving up in the world.
GoogleBot: Ace Also Attorney
GoogleBot, I met at a bar some long time ago and don't remember the details. I'm pretty sure he was the one who convinced me to become a DA, as he was one too and boasted about the "MASSIVE CHEDDAR boop" and "SERIOUS FUZZ" he got as a result-- that's binary for big money and notoriety (so I'm told). We've been friends ever since. Of course, I haven't seen any of that cheddar nor that fuzz yet, but I have hope.
Archie Angelo: Ace Prosecutor
This guy is Archie Angelo, a gas mask-wearing plumber who prosecutes on weekends. We go way back, pretty much to eldritch grade school. Even in those days, he had a passion for finding out who did something wrong. I mean, most of the time he actually just accused others to distract from the fact that he's the one who had done them, but that talent of his stuck around and influenced him to become a legal prosecutor. When I hear I'm going up against him, it always puts a smile on my lack-of-face.
Supreme Hat: Ace Judge
And last but definitely not least, the honourable judge Lizard Bite's Supreme Hat. Little is known about him other than that his booming uncontrollable voice sounds remarkably like Samuel L. Jackson. He can be quick to anger, but he's respected in our courts as someone who always gets the right verdict.
All of these people were present that day, as were hordes of cameramen and interviewers for magazines local and distant alike. This was a media case, as it involved celebrities, so the Supreme Hat made sure we got the preliminaries out of the way as soon as possible. Hence the early time. Really, if all that paparazzi knew how dull the prelims actually were, they all likely would have slept in.
GOD, Plaintiff, -vs- No. 111 BRUCE "BATMAN" WAYNE, Defendant.
I, SORCHA MARION MAGREAT, DRR, DCA, RPR, Official Court Reporter, do hereby certify: That the following post 4 contains a true and correct transcript of the proceedings had in the within and above-entitled matter as by me taken down in shorthand writing at said proceedings on August 17, 2014, and thereafter reduced to web log by computer-aided transcription under my direction. DATED: Dekan, underscore, August 17, 2014.
SORCHA MARION MAGREAT, DRR, DCA, RPR
TRANSCRIPT
[In the defending bench: Francis Heribert Slenderman and GoogleBot 343, with defendant Bruce Wayne] [In the prosecuting bench: Archibald Angelo] [Proceeding: The honourable Lizard Bite's Supreme Hat] [Bailiff: Benjamin Malkator]
Malkator: Will everyone please rise for the courtroom background music? [everyone rises]
Court is in Session
Supreme Hat: THANK YOU, BENJAMIN. THE KING'S COURT WILL NOW BEGIN THE PRELIMINARY HEARING FOR GOD V. BRUCE WAYNE. [GAVEL BANG] Supreme Hat: MISTER ANGELO, IF YOU WILL GET US STARTED? [everyone sits, except Archie] Archie: At the local corner on 5th and 7th, God approached Bruce "Batman" Wayne with the intention of offering a pint of alcohol at the nearby common-house. Wayne claims the plaintiff threatened him bodily harm with a knife. So Batman punches God. [the Supreme Hat considers this] Supreme Hat: I SEE. DOES THE COURT HAVE ANY FUCKING EVIDENCE TO SUBMIT? [Archie holds up a tape recorder with tape inside] Archie: Your Honour, I have on record a confession from the defendant. Supreme Hat: WELL GODDAMN. LET'S HEAR IT. BAILIFF, PLAY THE THING.
BATMAN'S CONFESSION (TAPE RECORDING) (voice of Batman) "Coffee's dark fragrance, a cheese and onion sandwich wrapped in thin paper, the overcast sky letting out a bit of sun, a bench to overlook an idle street-- these are some of my favourite things as I wait for God to meet with me. He takes his sweet time. By the time he gets to me, I see Him flirting with another girl, this one from the pirate shop. He flirts with all the girls. He acts like it's a perk of his job. Anyway, then God sees me and asks if I want Him to buy me a pint. We get together every Thursday. Shoot the breeze. Been friends since high school. You wouldn't believe the things that guy got up to in college. But suddenly, out of nowhere, God pulls out this knife and threatens me with eternal damnation." (voice of investigator) "Was that the moment you did it?" (voice of Batman) "Yeah. That was when I punched Him." (voice of investigator) "Whereabouts did you punch Him?" (voice of Batman) "Uhhh I'd say I punched Him in the face." (voice of investigator) "And what happened next?" (voice of Batman) "Suddenly there were all these police officers around me, and then you showed up with your tape recorder." (voice of investigator) "That will be all." [ END OF TAPE ]
Supreme Hat: I'LL BE FUCKED SIDEWAYS IN THE CROWN, THAT SURE AS HELL WAS A GODDAMN CONFESSION IF I'VE EVER HEARD ONE. [Frank Slenderman slouches in his chair and stares at the ceiling] Archie: Your Honour, there was also a witness to the assault-- Supreme Hat: DOES THIS EVEN NEED A WITNESS? THIS IS OPEN-SHUT, MISTER ANGELO. Archie: Apologies, Your Honour. I'm just thinking with regards to due process-- Supreme Hat: THANK YOU, MISTER ANGELO. [GAVEL BANG] Supreme Hat: LIKE I SAID, THIS IS OPEN-SHUT. THE COURT HOLDS BRUCE "BATMAN" WAYNE TO ANSWER IN AN ARRAIGNMENT IN FIVE DAYS. Slenderman: Your Honour? Supreme Hat: FUCKING CRANBERRIES, I COMPLETELY FORGOT YOU WERE EVEN HERE, MISTER SLENDERMAN. WOULD THE DEFENSE LIKE TO MAKE A STATEMENT BEFORE I OFFICIALLY END THIS HEARING? Slenderman: Um. No, actually. I was wondering if we could speed up the arraignment, maybe do it three days from now as opposed to five? I have a dance recital on that day. [the Supreme Hat does his best effort to resemble a shrugging gesture] Supreme Hat: SO BE IT. BATMAN'S ARRAIGNMENT IS IN THREE DAYS, THEN. [GAVEL BANG] Supreme Hat: COURT DISMISSED!
I've had some rough prelims in my days, but that one? Utterly the worst. The prosecution had everything: A confession on tape, a witness, a rich and well-connected plaintiff, and it was a media case, so he could pull out his well-rehearsed legalese that he so often neglects in court. "Due process," pah. Angelo wouldn't know due process if he breathed it in his gas mask.
The walk out of court was even worse; reporters swarmed Batman like pikmin at a picnic. He's a smart kid, though. He knew to always respond with "Talk to my lawyer." Which made it even more annoying for me. Oh, and Angelo, criminy, he ate that publicity right up. Pointed fingers at us and bragged about how creamed we were. "The defendant had better start pleading guilty now to save more time just in case his lawyer has any more dance recitals!" Started showing off what he considered to be his muscles, and when GoogleBot strolled over to him and pointed out his complete lack of such, Angelo responded with the ever classy "You're dead meat, GoogleBot. I could take you off this Earth with my eyes closed. Better step off."
At least afterwards, riding home in our limousine, we could unwind and listen to The Convocation's newest rap album: STRAIGHT OUTTA YOUR INNARDS ('CAUSE I'M A BIRD). The craftsmanship on that thing was superb. Still to this day, I wonder why anyone even bothers trying to make music now that The Convocation's taken over the job for the world?
Into the throat of seasons, into the presence of enemies, I vanquish all doubt. Science alone will guide my hand. [The penmanship unmistakeably curt, albeit not unwordy, this landed in my inbox today. How it got here and what it has to do with a mere accountant, I'm unsure. But with annotations, perhaps their true literate potential can be unleashed?]
5-0-3-2-4, Password for a passing age. The rage behind those eyes will find rest beyond my dreams. My Fossil work must take a pause. Into the throat of seasons, into the presence of enemies, I vanquish all doubt. [The F in "Fossil" being capitalized strikes me as odd. The significance of the number, aside from being a zip code in Iowa, escapes me.]
The monster who appeared in my chamber, bathsalts ablast with battery acid, Forespoke me a symphony of whirls and wharfs. BEEP BEEP went a mechanical mouth in my vision, Leading me perhaps to another sight of solace? Into the throat of seasons, into the presence of enemies, I vanquish all doubt. [Perhaps this stanza of gibberish is best left uncommented on.] Through streets lacking in name, past people lacking a purpose, I approach a bridge over water. This water, reflecting back at me my unimportant face, ripples with a shining glee, the striking of holy fuck. Did I just see a murder? [Such a cunning subversion of metre. Whoever you are, anonymous author, I applaud you. Wait a minute. Someone knocking at my door.]
FURTHER PAGES CONFISCATED BY DEKAN POLICE DEPARTMENT UNDER ORDERS OF CASE INVESTIGATOR
PLAN 31: RISE OF MCFEAR Episode 1: Turnabout Visitors
Early morning, at approximately Too Early O' Clock.
The phone rang.
I assumed it was the alarm, so I rejected the call thinking that was the Snooze button.
The phone rang again.
I assumed something was broken in the alarm, so I ignored it and went back to sleep.
The phone rang again.
I picked it up this time. It was Archie. Archie Angelo.
"Hey, Frank. Did I wake you?" "No, I'm always up this early. Got appearances to keep."
"Great, hey listen, uh... I kinda need your help."
"I charge extra for deliveries, you know."
"No, I mean-- I'm in jail."
"You're..." I started to wake up. "What happened?"
"They think I killed GoogleBot."
"GoogleBot is dead?"
"Yeah." Said so faintly I could barely hear it.
"Hold on, I'll come to you."
I drove my limousine to the Dekan police station, where I was let into Archie's cell. This was all too real for my liking. The cell was dank. Gross. Confined. It.. it was a cell. And Archie looked terrible. Wet, even.
Our talk didn't last long. Archie asked for me to defend him in court. His story was that he was out early this morning to run some errands when he stumbled upon GoogleBot's body, and then the police turned up and arrested him. Since he wasn't the one to call the police, I'm assuming there was a witness. We'd have the prelims later that day where as much would be confirmed, and at the arraignment Archie tried to plea autrefois acquit before I got him to shut up so I could declare, for him, that he pleads not guilty. Neither the prelim nor the arraignment had a prosecutor present. The Supreme Hat asked about that, and the bailiff informed him that the prosecutor assigned to this case could not attend but would be there for the actual trial. The Supreme Hat was surprised, since he hadn't actually scheduled a trial yet, to which the bailiff responded "The prosecutor said, having reviewed the case, that he expected a trial to be scheduled for tomorrow." The Supreme Hat admitted that that was fairly predicted and scheduled it just.
In the meantime, I remained in the dark-- about the witness, about the evidence, about this prosecutor, and about what really happened to GoogleBot that morning. In the dark, dark like coffee. But even still, I knew in my slender gut that Archie couldn't have done it. He talked a lot of smack, but he hadn't got it in him It sure figured, though, that out of all the trouble he'd gotten me into in the past, it would be him that would usher in my first murder trial.
7:20 AM ..wait. What. One moment I was asleep and all was right with the world, next thing I know I'm sitting on a bench by a bus stop in the rain? A bus is approaching. Its ticker reads "KING'S COURT." I guess that's where it's going? Oh hey, admission is free. Then I guess that's where I'm going!
7:24 AM This bus is empty, save for me and the driver. And he's not talking. I.. bah. I still need to wake up. Need to get my bearings. I am Jordan. I am fine. Everything is fine. Am I still dreaming? That must be it. This is a vivid dream, maybe a Reverie dream.
7:26 AM Maybe Rapture is coming back. I feel like I'd heard something to that effect once. Whatever's happening, I suppose there's no sense arguing with perception. I think I'll be a passenger a while.
7:32 AM The bus stopped along the way and picked up the slender man. He sat next to me and put a briefcase in his lap. "Didn't expect to see anyone else on this line so early." Yeah, well.. early bird gets the worm? He grunted. "That's one way of looking at it. Sometimes I'm not sure whether I'm the bird or the worm." It's all a matter of perception. "In the end." For all time. "Indeed." Yes.
7:33 AM So what's your story? "I'm defending someone today." Ah, so you're a lawyer. He sighed. "That I am, kid. That I am." Y'know, I knew a guy like you once. Had a scarf of blood and a hat of shadow, but he was a good guy. Fought hard. Defended his planet. "Huh. Small world. I doubt I'll be doing any planet-saving, though. Hell, usually I just do traffic; this is my first murder." Oh shit. "It was my friend, too." The murderer? "What? No, no. Though by coincidence, the accused is also my friend. I mean the victim, I knew the victim well." I'm sorry. Another sigh. "Live and let die. Live and let live. All the same." No use fighting it. "Denying it." Fighting it. "Avoiding it." Fighting it. "What about you, what's your story?" Lengthy, rambling, and at times too vague to parse. "Preach."
7:38 AM ..do you think I could watch the trial? "My trial? I don't see why not."
7:41 AM The bus is starting to crowd up. "This must be the jury." Does the bus normally take this many people going to the same trial? "On mornings, it does."
7:46 AM We're approaching a large and fancy building. People are getting ready to get off. This must be King's Court. "Here's our stop. Hey, listen, why don't you sit with me in the defense's bench?" Really? "Sure. Ordinarily I have a friend with me to help me out, give another perspective, but.. well, he was the victim." Oh. I mean.. I can. If you want me to, a stranger. "A perfect stranger." Complete. "My name's Frank." extended a hand to shake I'm Jordan. "Good to meet you." And you. "Well, shall we go? Justice awaits."
The City of Dekan, Plaintiff, -vs- No. 417 ARCHIBALD "ARCHIE" ANGELO, Defendant.
I, SORCHA MARION MAGREAT, DRR, DCA, RPR, Official Court Reporter, do hereby certify: That the following post 9 contains a true and correct transcript of the proceedings had in the within and above-entitled matter as by me taken down in shorthand writing at said proceedings on August 20, 2014, and thereafter reduced to web log by computer-aided transcription under my direction. DATED: Dekan, underscore, August 20, 2014.
SORCHA MARION MAGREAT, DRR, DCA, RPR TRANSCRIPT
Bailiff: Will everyone please rise for the courtroom background music?
Court is in Session
SupremeHat: THANK YOU, MALKATOR. EVERYONE CAN NOW SIT THEIR ASSES DOWN. THIS AIN'T A MEDIA CASE, SO THE GLOVES ARE OFF. COURT IS NOW IN SESSION FOR THE TRIAL OF ACHIBALD ANGELO. [gavel BANG] SupremeHat: ARE THE CASES READY? Slenderman: The defense is ready, Your Honor. ???: The prosecution is ready, Your Honor. SupremeHat: AH, I BELIEVE THIS IS THE FIRST TIME YOU'LL BE SERVING IN OUR COURTS, MISTER...? ???: They call me the Black Mask. SupremeHat: AND WHY IS THAT? BMask: Because I wear a black mask. SupremeHat: I'M TOLD YOU HAVE MUCH EXPERIENCE WITH COURT OUTSIDE OF OUR JURISDICTION. BMask: Court is not something to merely "have experience in." It is something to study, understand, prepare for, and hopefully gain the privilege to experience. It is a juggernaut of spinning wheels and moving parts. We are all born under its shadow, each one of us, whether we are aware of it or not. Some spend their entire lives seeking to unravel its complex reels. Many are crushed under its might. A rare few can say they understand the point of it, but I've yet to meet a man that does. [silence] SupremeHat: I DIDN'T ASK FOR YOUR FUCKING LIFE STORY. BMask: Regardless. That is my conceit. I am here to learn yours. [the Black Mask points a finger at Frank] Slenderman: My "conceit?" I'm sorry, I fail to see what this has to do with the case at hand. [silence] [the Black Mask retracts his hand] BMask: Of course. SupremeHat: YEAH, ABOUT THAT THING, Y'KNOW, THE CASE. IF THE PROSECUTION WOULD BE SO KIND AS TO BRIEF US? WITHOUT YOUR FLIGHTS OF WORDLESS FANCY, IF YOU PLEASE. BMask: The prosecution calls the detective in charge of the case to the stand.
[at the stand is yet another faceless slender man, this time in a trenchcoat and fedora] BMask: Please state your name and profession. Sman: Slender man. Detective. BMask: And you were placed in charge of the investigations regarding the death of GoogleBot? Sman: *nods* That, I was. BMask: Will you please tell the court what you've found? Sman: Sure thing. The body was reported at 4:17 AM on the morning of the 18th. Officers found it, along with the defendant, aboard a small rowing boat on the river Canaan. Also on the boat was a crowbar bearing some loose circuitry that a post-mortem confirmed belonged to the victim. Said post-mortem also confirmed that the victim had died by blunt force-- a crowbar to the cranium. BMask: And the defendant was the only one on the boat? Sman: He was. BMask: Did this crowbar bear any fingerprints worth mentioning? Sman: Those of the defendant were the only prints present. [the jury discusses this amongst themselves] SupremeHat: THAT SOUNDS CONCLUSIVE. Slenderman: Objection! Your Honor, what about motive? BMask: Objection right back at you. Mister Slenderman, I may be new to this court but don't take me for a fool. Angelo was a prosecutor, wasn't he? Slenderman: ..on weekends, yes. [the Black Mask pulls out a sheet of paper] BMask: And was it not he who stated, on the day prior to the murder, that the victim was, and I quote, "dead meat?" That he, Angelo, could take GoogleBot "off this Earth with [his] eyes closed?" Slenderman: That was.. just banter. For the paparazzi! SupremeHat: FRANK, YOUR OBJECTION IS OVERRULED. THE PROSECUTION HAS SATISFACTORILY MET YOUR REQUEST FOR A MOTIVE. Sman: We also have two witnesses who saw the murder being committed. [the jury discusses this too] [gavel BANG; all is silent] SupremeHat: BEFORE WE EVEN HEAR THEM, I WANT TO HEAR FROM THE DEFENSE. FRANK, GOOGLEBOT WAS YOUR MENTOR, WASN'T HE? Slenderman: Mentor and a good friend. SupremeHat: ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO GO THROUGH WITH THIS TRIAL? THE DEFENDANT WAS YOUR RIVAL. THERE IS A CLEAR CONFLICT OF INTEREST HERE. [Frank pauses; Jordan watches him without expression] Slenderman: The defense wishes to hear from the witnesses. SupremeHat: VERY WELL. BLACK MASK, YOU MAY CALL YOUR FIRST WITNESS.
[at the stand now is an adult man in a muddy lab coat] BMask: Witness, your name and occupation. Cloud: Stanford Milgram, code name "Doctor Cloud." Scientist and medical officer at Topography Genera Center East. SupremeHat: HUH. I'VE NEVER HEARD OF THAT PLACE. BMask: The witness is not from around here. He was in the area on business. Cloud: That's right. *adjusts glasses* SupremeHat: I SEE. AND JUST WHAT DID YOU WITNESS ON THE MORNING OF THE 18TH? [bailiff Malkator cues the testimony music]
Cross-Examination (MODERATO)
Doctor Cloud: "The Morning of the 18th" I came to Dekan for research purposes which require constant concentration. My station was on the riverside, and I'd had a long night. That's when I heard it: A sharp crack, disrupting my focus, tore me from my research and bid me look up at the river. There was a robot, destroyed by a man in a gas mask, on a boat.
SupremeHat: THANK YOU, DOCTOR. FRANK, THE CROSS-EXAMINATION WOULD COME IN HANDY RIGHT ABOUT NOW. Slenderman: Of course. [Frank turns to his young sidekick] Slenderman: Are you ready to see me in action, kid? Jordan: So this is what you do, you cross-examine? ...wait, how does this work, exactly? Slenderman: It's quite simple. The witness has made a statement regarding the nature of what it is he witnessed that made the prosecution consider him so necessary to this trial. It's up to me, in the interest of my client, to examine his statement and cross it with the evidence, pressing him for more details if I think something needs further clarification. Jordan: And what's the end-goal of all this? Slenderman: Well, testimonies are one of the primary means of gaining information about a case. Jordan: But isn't the information we gain inherently limited by the perspective of the witness? Slenderman: Precisely. That's why I cross-examine his statements. We don't take people on faith in our legal system; we compare their perspectives with others' in an attempt to approach an objective truth by which we can process all wrongdoings. Jordan: Ah, I see! SupremeHat: THIS IS NOBLE TALK COMING FROM THE GUY WHO JUST DOES TRAFFIC AND HAS A PICTURE OF HIMSELF ON HIS LUNCHBOX. GET ON WITH IT. Slenderman: Sorry, Your Honor! [Frank leaves the defense bench and walks up to Doctor Cloud] Slenderman: Doctor, do you mind if I ask you a direct question? Cloud: By all means, I welcome brevity. SupremeHat: YOU AND ME BOTH. Slenderman: What was the subject of your research here in Dekan? Cloud: Ah, you see, now that's a difficult question to reply to. I research many things, some of which are sociological, some of which are psychological, much of which deals with particle-based physics. Your culture offers fascinating alternatives to what I had been conditioned to believe were fundamental facets of scientific view, and much of my time here has been spent readjusting my beliefs on the very paradigms of scientific thought. [Frank turns away, arms behind his back, thinking] BMask: I, for one, think the good doctor has made his point clear. Slenderman: *nods in concession* That, he has. That, he has. Jordan: ..I'm confused. What point did he make? Slenderman: He made two points, actually. One: That, in a matter of multicultural exposure, worldviews are called into question. And more pressingly two: He's dodging the question. [Frank spins on a heel and points an accusing finger at Cloud] Slenderman: I asked you what you were researching. For someone who praises brevity, you failed to give the straight truth! Cloud: Ack! [the Black Mask objects] BMask: Truth exists in a spectrum! [Frank retaliates] Slenderman: That may be so, but individual points on said spectrum are consistently valid when parsed through their respective filters! BMask: But, as the filter in question involves the conglomeration of varying experiential lexica, you argue for a senseless act of hypocrisy! Slenderman: *points aggressively* Not for hypocrisy but consistency! Consistency, I argue! The laws of standards are sociologically proven! BMask: "Proof" is just a mask to cover the impending carnival of our fates! Slenderman: Your input is an unintentional display of ironic projection! BMask: Was it unintentional, Frank? [the Black Mask slams his hands on his desk; the camera zooms in dramatically close to his mask] BMask: Was it? [pause] [everyone stares in tension at the action in the middle of the room] [Frank backs down] Slenderman: (in respect) Your ruse falls on deaf ears save for those who admit the impossibility of sound. BMask: (returning the respect) And your conceit has sufficiently soared higher than I could have asked. [they shake hands] Slenderman: But the witness was still dodging the question. BMask: Conceded. [silence] SupremeHat: ..WHAT JUST HAPPENED IN MY COURTROOM? Slenderman: The prosecution and I came to an agreement, Your Honor, concerning the witness's lack of getting to the point. SupremeHat: I GET THAT, BUT WHAT WAS WITH ALL THE OTHER STUFF? IT MADE MY HEAD HURT! ...AND I DON'T EVEN HAVE A HEAD! Cloud: Oh, they were simply debating the validity of basing a legal system around the notion of a "truth." SupremeHat: OH. NATURALLY. CAN YOU ANSWER HIS FREAKING QUESTION ALREADY? Cloud: *sighs* I came to the river Canaan in order to research spatial anomalies. [the jury murmurs amongst themselves] Slenderman: (dubiously) "Spatial anomalies?" In our river? Cloud: Now do you see why I might not have wanted to share my reasons? Jordan: It would make sense. If I had reason to believe there were tears in space, I'd be shy about sharing it too! Cloud: "Tears in space!" Aha! No. These are less readily tangible than tears would be. Unfortunately, I am not at all in a position to be able to speak about this. I have to plead the fifth. Slenderman: We don't have a fifth. Cloud: Then I reserve the right to remain silent. SupremeHat: ALRIGHT, WHATEVER. WE'VE WASTED LONG ENOUGH ON THIS LINE OF ENQUIRY ANYWAY. FRANK, YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO FIND SOMETHING ELSE TO QUESTION. Slenderman: My pleasure. There was one other thing that confused me about your testimony, doctor... Cloud: Yes? Slenderman: So you testify to having witnessed the murder? Cloud: What I said is what I testified to having witnessed. Slenderman: Smart man. Because you didn't actually admit to seeing any crime. BMask: What? Slenderman: It's quite simple. His claim was, and I am quoting here, "A sharp crack, disrupting my focus, tore me from my research and bid me look up at the river. There was a robot, destroyed by a man in a gas mask, on a boat." He witnessed the aftermath of a crime, not the action therein. BMask: Again, what?! "There was a robot, destroyed by a man in a gas mask!" That's pretty evidently a described action! Slenderman: *shakes head* If you take it out of context, sure. But the actual sentence is "There was a robot [...] on a boat." An image, not an action. BMask: "Destroyed by a man in a gas mask!" Slenderman: Mere conjecture. BMask: What?!?! [gavel BANG] SupremeHat: BURDEN OF PROOF IS ON YOU HERE, FRANK. CAN YOU PROVE IT? Slenderman: Well, here's my logic: Doctor Cloud was pretty concentrated on his work. He testified that it "required constant concentration," emphasis mine. He didn't say anything about noticing the boat prior to-- and here's the clincher-- a "sharp crack." That would have been the actual murder, right? But if he only looked up at the river after hearing the sharp crack, he would have missed the crucial moment! Therefore, he could only assume as to the details of the event! [the jury discusses this amongst themselves] SupremeHat: IMPRESSIVE. YOUR LOGIC MAKES SENSE. BMask: Yes, but you fail to answer an even more pressing matter that your logic, or at least your use of it, implies. Slenderman: And what's that? BMask: Why doesn't your sidekick fill you in? I think he knows it too. [Jordan, indeed, looks uneasy] Jordan: If the sharp crack wasn't Archie striking GoogleBot, then who was it? There was no one else at the scene of the crime... Slenderman: ..hrm. Yeah. [gavel BANG] [bailiff Malkator ends the testimony music]
SupremeHat: OKAY, THIS WITNESS HAS GIVEN ALL HE REALLY CAN. DOCTOR CLOUD, YOU MAY LEAVE THE COURTROOM IF YOU WANT. [Doctor Cloud does so] SupremeHat: I WILL GIVE THIS TO THE DEFENSE: THEY HAVE ESTABLISHED REASONABLE DOUBT AS TO THE PROSECUTION RELYING ON JUST TESTIMONY ALONE IN PROVING THE DEFENDANT'S GUILT. HOWEVER, THE EVIDENCE STILL POINTS TOWARD THE ACCUSATION. Slenderman: Yes, Your Hon-- SupremeHat: SHUT UP. NOT DONE TALKING. THERE'S ONE IMPORTANT MATTER THAT BOTH SIDES HAVE FAILED TO ADDRESS: WHY IN FLYING HELL WERE THE VICTIM AND THE ACCUSED OUT THERE ON A FUCKING BOAT AT FOUR IN THE FUCKING MORNING? [silence on the court] BMask: (embarrassed) I haven't got a clue. Slenderman: (same) Yeah, that beats me. SupremeHat: MISTER ANGELO. Archie: Yo, I'm still here. SupremeHat: SINCE WE OBVIOUSLY CAN'T ASK THE OTHER PARTY FOR AN EXPLANATION, SEEING AS HE'S PRESENTLY UP DEAD CREEK WITHOUT A PADDLE, WOULD YOU PLEASE INFORM US WHAT THE FUCK YOU WERE DOING OUT THERE THAT NIGHT? Archie: I plead the fifth, Your Honor. Slenderman: Archie. Archie: What? A guy's gotta keep some secrets to himself. SupremeHat: MISTER ANGELO, YOU ARE IMPLICATING YOURSELF BY REFUSING TO ANSWER. Archie: Fuck. Look, I just. I'm not.. comfortable explaining why, but I insist I went out that night alone. By the time I saw GoogleBot, he was already dead. BMask: ..and in your boat. Archie: I swear I have no idea how he got there! SupremeHat: SO YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU JUST HAPPENED TO GO OUT ON A BOAT ALONE AT FOUR IN THE MORNING FOR SOME DISCREET REASON, AND THEN AT 4:17 SUDDENLY A FUCKING FOUR-FOOT TALL ROBOT JUST HAPPENED TO MANIFEST ON YOUR BOAT, ALREADY DEAD? Archie: No, actually! He was dying. I could see the light in his eyes, but only for a few seconds. By the time I realized what I was looking at, he was dead. ..Your Honor. SupremeHat: OH, FORGIVE ME FOR GETTING THAT FUCKING DETAIL WRONG. Slenderman: Archie, seriously, it would only help you to tell us why you were out there at all. Take my legal advice. It's what I went to school for! Archie: But you guys are gonna laugh at me! BMask: We probably will, but if not we're gonna put you in prison. Slenderman: He's serious. Please. [Archie takes a deep breath] Archie: ...I was fishing. [silence] SupremeHat: WAIT, WHY WOULD WE LAUGH AT THAT? Jordan: (stifling a giggle) Archie angling. SupremeHat: ...PFFTHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OH MY GOD THAT IS THE WORST YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE FOR MAKING US WAIT FOR THAT PUN Archie: I FUCKING TOLD YOU SupremeHat: HA OH HAHA OH SHIT HAHAHAHAHA MY GOD HAHAHAFUCKINGHA. OKAY. OKAY. ORDER IN THE COURT, AND STUFF. NOW THAT WE'VE GOTTEN THAT OUT OF THE WAY. SO THE DEFENDANT WAS FISHING. Slenderman: That would provide a reason to be out that early... BMask: If the defendant is telling the truth. We still have to factor in the sudden appearance of the witness. If you want the prosecution's opinion, the likelier explanation is that the two had arranged to meet out on that boat, and any fishing done at all was only to forge an alibi. Archie: But why would I want to invite GoogleBot out so early? My fishing routine only accounts for one, thank you very much! BMask: I don't care much to learn about any details to a fishing routine from someone of your.. caliber. No, I suspect the question of "why" was never established, and out of sheer curiosity the victim accepted your invitation. SupremeHat: YEAH, THAT MAKES SENSE. DOES THE DEFENSE HAVE A RETORT? Slenderman: Only that neither argument, as yet, is watertight. There are too many ambiguities. BMask: The prosecution concurs, and that's why I have prepared my other witness. SupremeHat: FUCKING FINALLY. FEEL FREE TO CALL THE DUDE! BMask: Our medical officials asked me to warn the court first that she's psychologically fragile after what she witnessed. SupremeHat: OH. A SHE. WELL, I WAS ALMOST RIGHT. BMask: The prosecution calls Rauri McGanna to the stand!
[at the stand now is a young woman in a hospital smock with muddy blonde hair] BMask: The witness will state her-- Rauri: Hi, Jordan. Jordan: (stunned) Hi. Rauri: Long time, no see. Jordan: Yeah. What are you doing here? [the Black Mask clears his throat] BMask: The witness will state her name and occupation. Rauri: Sure. I'm Rauri McGanna, student under the Misericordia. [Rauri looks at Jordan, then back at the court] Rauri: Some also know me by "Fentzy." SupremeHat: HM? AND WHY WOULD THAT BE? Rauri: It's.. something of a stage name, you could say. BMask: The witness claimed in questioning to be a famous artist, Your Honor. SupremeHat: "CLAIMED?" IS SHE OR ISN'T SHE? BMask: Admittedly, I have never heard of her. Slenderman: Mm, nor I. Jordan: I have. Um. Not as a famous artist, per se, but she was a good friend to me years ago. Rauri: I've done a lot since we drifted apart. Jordan: I can see that. o_o SupremeHat: ...DID THE BOY JUST SPEAK IN EMOTICON. Slenderman: The defense would like said emoticon stricken from the record! SupremeHat: THAT'S UP TO THE STENOGRAPHER, MISTER SLENDERMAN. YOUR REPUTATION IS IN HER HANDS NOW. BLACK MASK, IS THE WITNESS'S STATUS AS AN ARTIST RELEVANT TO THE CASE? [the Black Mask hesitates before answering] BMask: No. SupremeHat: THEN FUCK IT. STRIKE IT ALL FROM THE RECORD, MISS MAGREAT. UNDER YOUR DISCRETION, OF COURSE. BMask: Moving right along, Miss McGanna, please state to the court what you witnessed on the morning of the 18th. Rauri: Do you mean the thing that made you guys take me into custody or whatever? That was during a morning? Slenderman: Early in the morning, yes. Approximately 4 AM. Rauri: Ah, right. Okay.
[in the interest of only having each song once per post, the reader is hereby pointed to the previous audio player.]
Fentzy: "The Thing I Saw" That night is seriously blurry when I try to remember it. One moment, I was walking home, the next I was in front of a.. river, was it? And out on the water was this boat with two people in it, one striking the other with a long weapon. I remember that part so clearly. The rest is silence.
SupremeHat: YOU'RE QUITE COLLECTED FOR SOMEONE WHO WITNESSED A MURDER. Rauri: Eh. I've seen much worse. A lot of my art is based on the apocalypse. Slenderman: The apocalypse...? Rauri: Yeah? Y'know, when Rapture was coming? BMask: Miss McGanna has been under hospitalized care for the past few days. When officers picked her up, she showed signs of malnutrition and unexplained bruising. It's possible she may also suffer from some mental setbacks as well. Rauri: (offended) What the hell? Jordan: (quietly, to Rauri) I don't think Rapture came here, boss. Rauri: What? What do you mean, "here?" Where am I? BMask: (to judge) As I said, she may exhibit some idiopathic cognitive difficulties, but her testimony corroborates with my case, Your Honor. This was no accident. Rauri: Hey, fuck you! I'm not insane! You're wearing a fucking mask, you're one to talk! SupremeHat: ...SHE'S GOT YOU THERE, PAL. BMask: *laughs* Miss McGanna, I'm on your side here. The defense are the ones who wish to invalidate your experiences. Slenderman: Objection! Your Honor, that was uncalled for! SupremeHat: OBJECTION SUSTAINED. BY THE FUCKING WAY, CAN WE STOP THE IN-FIGHTING FOR JUST ONE MOTHERFUCKING SECOND? I WILL HAVE ORDER HERE! [gavel BANG] [everyone shuts up] SupremeHat: EVIDENTLY HOW USEFUL THE WITNESS'S TESTIMONY MAY OR MAY NOT BE WILL DEPEND ON IF, BY OUR LEGAL STANDARDS, SHE IS SANE. I MEAN NO FUCKING OFFENSE BY THAT. JUST STATING THE FACTS. Rauri: No offense taken. SupremeHat: SHUT UP. STILL TALKING. NOW, SHE BROUGHT UP AN APOCALYPSE AS SOMETHING THAT SINCERELY HAPPENED. WE NEED TO GET THIS STRAIGHT. WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE TALKING ABOUT? [Jordan raises his hand] SupremeHat: .........WHAT IS THIS, A GODDAMN CLASSROOM? YES, YES, WHAT DO YOU WANT? Jordan: Your Honor, I can corroborate that Fentz-- uh, the witness's apocalypse really happened. I was there, it was three years ago from May 21st to October 21st, 2011. However, I cannot confirm why no one else seems aware of it. SupremeHat: GREAT. A POSSIBLE SECOND NUTJOB. Slenderman: But the chances of two people suffering an identical delusion are pretty slim! SupremeHat: OKAY. COOL. BUT WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? [silence] SupremeHat: ANYONE? NO? FUCKING JEEZ. OKAY, FINE. I'LL TELL YOU WHAT. LET'S JUST PRETEND THIS WHOLE "APOCALYPSE" TALK NEVER HAPPENED. IT LIKELY HAS VERY LITTLE TO DO WITH THIS CASE ANYWAY, AS EVEN IF IT DID SOMEHOW HAPPEN, IT WAS THREE FUCKING YEARS AGO. SO. AUGUST 18TH. 4:17 AM. CROSS-EXAMINATION. GOT IT? GOT IT. FUCK. [silence] SupremeHat: AND HURRY THE FUCK UP! Slenderman: Oh right! *reads through testimony again* "One moment," you were walking home, then suddenly by our river? Rauri: Yeah... [Frank brings the piece of paper very close to his face, reading carefully] Slenderman: Does.. anyone have a possible explanation for that? BMask: It was four in the morning. That's pretty dark. Slenderman: But then how did she see the murder? BMask: The Canaan is a wide river, and the murder occurred on a boat squarely in the center-- far from any, say, overhanging building's shadow. Under the looming city, it's dark. Looking out at the river, the moonlight could allow such a sight. Slenderman: Ah, though this isn't just a matter of vision! Her memory is also relevant. If the rest of the night was blurry in her memory, why would this stand out? Jordan: Actually, Frank, that can happen with traumatic events. Slenderman: Can it? BMask: Yes, it can. Slenderman: Huh. That answers that. SupremeHat: WAIT, I'M A LITTLE CONFUSED BY SOMETHING. Rauri: Yes? SupremeHat: WHERE THE FUCK WAS DOCTOR CLOUD DURING THIS? Rauri: Who? BMask: The other side of the river. If it pleases the court, I have a map of the crime scene I'd be willing to submit as evidence. SupremeHat: LAY IT ON US, DUDERINO! BMask: Here it is.
Jordan: What are we looking at here? BMask: It's meant to be a top-down view of the crime scene. The white section in the middle is the Canaan-- complete with boat in the middle, the red representing the accused and green representing the victim. The gray sections are the opposite banks on both sides of the river, with each blue dot being one of our two witnesses. Doctor Cloud was on the right from here, and Rauri McGanna on the left. Not that it really matters. SupremeHat: HMMMM. OKAY, COOL. I THINK I UNDERSTAND NOW. Slenderman: And what's this black dotted part? BMask: The Canaan is crossed, at multiple areas, by bridges. The parallel dotted lines are the nearest overlooking bridge. SupremeHat: OH? WHICH BRIDGE IS THAT, OUT OF CURIOSITY? BMask: Grott, Your Honor. SupremeHat: GOOD. NOW I KNOW WHICH ROUTE NOT TO TAKE TO WORK IN THE MORNING. FUCKING HATE BEING NEAR CRIME SCENES. BMask: Are we all clear on the visuals now? Slenderman: I think we've got it now. Thanks, Black Mask. [Frank leans forward, his hands on his desk] Slenderman: Miss McGanna, you said the victim was stabbed with a "long weapon." Rauri: Actually, I said-- Slenderman: Is this the weapon?
Rauri: I didn't get that clear of a look at it. The boat was too far away. I don't even remember seeing what the people on the boat looked like beyond their silhouettes. Slenderman: Thank you, Miss McGanna. The defense rests, Your Honor. SupremeHat: ...AND WHAT POSITION DOES THE DEFENSE REST ON? Slenderman: Neither testimony can reliably indict the defendant. SupremeHat: UH. YOU DO REALIZE, WITHOUT THE TESTIMONIES, WE HAVE TO RELY ON EVIDENCE THAT SUGGESTS YOUR MAN WAS THE ONLY OTHER ONE ON THAT BOAT, RIGHT? Slenderman: ...fuck. The defense un-rests, Your Honor! BMask: Objection! Is that even a thing? SupremeHat: OBJECTION OVERRULED. THIS IS FRANK'S LAST CHANCE TO TURN THINGS AROUND. LET'S LET HIM HAVE IT. BMask: Hmph. Fair enough. SupremeHat: THIS COURT WOULD PROCEED REGARDLESS OF WHETHER OR NOT YOU THINK IT'S FUCKING FAIR, MISTER BLACK MASK. BMask: My apologies to the court. SupremeHat: ACCEPTED. FRANK, THE COURT IS CLEAR FOR YOU TO ATTEMPT A SAVING THROW. [silence] SupremeHat: ...SPORTS. Slenderman: Right. Saving throw. Uh. Jordan: (quietly, to Frank) Do you know what you're doing? Slenderman: (quietly, to Jordan) Barely. Jordan: (quietly, to Frank) Listen, Fentzy's my friend, let me ask her something. Slenderman: (quietly, to Jordan) What, and use up my only saving throw? I don't get that many of these a year, you know! Jordan: (quietly, to Frank) Please. Unless you have any better ideas, it might be best to trust in me. [Frank glances around the courtroom, making his decision] Slenderman: (quietly, to Jordan) Good luck, kid. (to rest of court) My partner here wishes to ask a question to the witness. This will act as the defense's saving throw. SupremeHat: VERY WELL. Rauri: What do you want to know? Jordan: Whatever the circumstances were for your witnessing of the crime, you've made it clear that what you saw left a definite and striking impression on your mind. You've also said that you are an artist. The defense wishes to know if you could perhaps draw for us what you witnessed that morning. Rauri: You want me to.. draw it? BMask: *chuckles* What would that prove? Jordan: I know Fentzy well enough to know that she's better with pictures than with words. If there is a chance that this picture could act as a more reliable testimony, then I believe we should take the chance. SupremeHat: HMM. THIS IS KINDA UNORTHODOX. BUT I LIKE IT! WITNESS, WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO DO AS REQUESTED? Rauri: I would, Your Honor. SupremeHat: AWESOME. BAILIFF, GET THIS WOMAN A TABLET, PRONTO! AND CUE THE TENSE TESTIMONY MUSIC!
Cross-Examination (ALLEGRO)
[the court stares at the image in confusion] Slenderman: Why does it say "PLACEHOLDER?" BMask: It's probably some obtuse artistic statement. SupremeHat: I THINK THE BETTER QUESTION IS WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE LOOKING AT HERE? Rauri: This is (except for "placeholder," which the stenographer reserves the right to strike from the record on further notice) exactly what I saw that night. Slenderman: But.. but what the hell is all this blue in the sky? Rauri: *shrugs* It's what I saw. There was definitely a cloud of some sort around the boat when I first saw it. BMask: Tsk, tsk. Your Honor, all the defense has done with this charade is prove the unreliability of the witness's mental problems. Rauri: Hey, you're the one who called me here! SupremeHat: WELL, FRANK? IT'S YOUR CALL. DO YOU THINK, WITH THE ADDITION OF THIS PICTURE INTO COURT RECORD, THERE IS ENOUGH BASIS ON WHICH TO HAVE A REASONABLE DOUBT AS TO THE DEFENDANT'S GUILT? Slenderman: Oh man, I'm not sure... Jordan: C'mon, Frank! If you can't find anything that contradicts the prosecution's accusations, even slightly suggests another possibility of what happened that night, then Archie's going to prison! Slenderman: ...fuck. [Frank takes one last look at all the evidence...]
[...and in the interest of dramatic effect, this post will end here.]
SupremeHat: WELL, FRANK? IT'S YOUR CALL. DO YOU THINK, WITH THE ADDITION OF THIS PICTURE INTO COURT RECORD, THERE IS ENOUGH BASIS ON WHICH TO HAVE A REASONABLE DOUBT AS TO THE DEFENDANT'S GUILT?
Slenderman: Hmm...
[tense silence]
Slenderman: Yes, Your Honor. I think there was a crucial missed opportunity in the investigation.
BMask: Hmph. And would you mind telling us what that is?
Slenderman: It's quite simple. May I direct the court's attention to this blue scribble in what's supposed to be the air?
Rauri: My blue cloud?
SupremeHat: I THOUGHT THAT WAS THE ARTIST GROWING FRUSTRATED WITH THE TABLET.
Slenderman: That's one possibility. However, there's an even more pressing possibility to consider. Black Mask, may we have another look at that map again?
Slenderman: Mister Black Mask, if you'll be so kind as to do me one last favor?
BMask: What is it?
Slenderman: These parallel black dotted lines, what do they represent?
BMask: The Grott Bridge, which runs across the Canaan.
Slenderman: And how high up is it from the river?
BMask: ..pretty high. What are you.. wait a minute.
Slenderman: Mhm. Does the court notice the location of the bridge in proportion to the boat?
SupremeHat: IT'S.. RIGHT NEXT TO IT?
Slenderman: Indeed, it is. And tell me, Black Mask, since you're being so cooperative so far, run with this hypothetical for a second. If an object were to drop from the Grott Bridge and land on a boat on the Canaan, what would happen?
[the Black Mask clenches his fists]
BMask: It.. would cause a big splash.
Slenderman: Thank you.
SupremeHat: HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE. IS THE DEFENSE SUGGESTING THAT SOMETHING DROPPED FROM THE BRIDGE AND ONTO THE BOAT? AM I READING YOU CLEARLY?
Slenderman: That's right.
SupremeHat: BUT WHAT. WHAT THE FUCK COULD POSSIBLY HAVE FALLEN ONTO THAT BOAT THAT'S SO GAME-CHANGING FOR THE CASE?
Slenderman: Why, Your Honor, I thought it was obvious. The victim's body.
Cornered!
SupremeHat: WHOA, WHERE'D THIS MUSIC COME FROM
Malkator: It felt appropriate, Your Honor.
BMask: OBJECTION! This is absurd!
Slenderman: OBJECTION right back at you! You wanted a possibility, well, here's one you can't deny! My client was fishing all alone when his boat passed under the bridge and bam, GoogleBot fell into his boat, causing a big splash and a sharp "crack!" It corroborates with all testimony, and it accounts for how a man-sized robot could have gotten onto the boat without Archie knowing!
BMask: Ack!
SupremeHat: HMM. Y'KNOW, FRANK MAKES ONE HELL OF A POINT.
BMask: Your Honor--
[gavel BANG]
SupremeHat: SHUT UP, BLACK MASK. THE DEFENSE DID ALL THAT WAS ASKED. WE WANTED ANOTHER POSSIBILITY, AND WE'VE GOT ONE NOW.
BMask: But. This implies...
Slenderman: It implies that this trial is inconclusive in its present state, is what it implies.
SupremeHat: AND I AM LED TO CONCUR. MORE INVESTIGATION IS NEEDED, SPECIFICALLY IN TERMS OF THAT BRIDGE AND WHO WAS ON IT THAT NIGHT.
BMask: That bridge is an integrally located straightaway, any number between ten- and twenty-thousand individuals could have crossed it, and more between the night of the crime and today! We'd be searching for a needle in a haystack!
Slenderman: But we have to, or else we could potentially be condemning an innocent man!
BMask: "Innocent" is such a loaded word.
Slenderman: Oh, don't be so sophomoric! The law doesn't run on whatever passes for "intellectually jaded philosophy" you may have picked up in college!
BMask: You are quick to misjudge.
Slenderman: Says the prosecutor.
BMask: Now hold on. There's something you're missing in your little explanation.
Slenderman: And what's that?
BMask: Even in the witness's drawing of the event, it very much looks like one figure raising a weapon towards another. How do you explain that?
[Frank looks at the drawing]
Slenderman: ..damn, you're right.
Jordan: No, what? It looks to me like someone, holding a fishing rod, reacting in visible surprise at the sudden appearance of someone else.
BMask: Oh, please!
SupremeHat: ..HEY, I CAN SEE IT EITHER WAY.
BMask: That doesn't prove anything!
Slenderman: This isn't a matter of "proof" anymore! This is a matter of possibility!
BMask: Enough of this. Judge, will you please shut the court up?
SupremeHat: OH YEAH, I'M THE ONE WHO DOES THAT, AREN'T I? AHEM.
[gavel BANG]
[the music stops]
SupremeHat: THE DEFENSE HAS PROVEN THE NEED FOR REASONABLE DOUBT AS TO THE DEFENDANT'S GUILT. LIKE IT OR NOT, I CANNOT PASS JUDGEMENT WHILE THE BRIDGE THING IS STILL A POSSIBILITY. THE POLICE ARE GONNA HAVE TO CONTINUE INVESTIGATION, LOOK INTO THAT COCKSUCKING BRIDGE. I WILL HAVE JUSTICE! COURT IS DISMISSED. [gavel BANG]
Hah. "Justice." The justice system is a joke. Can't take any of it seriously. Not ever since that case so long ago. Ever since my life was ruined by two cold words. But I don't like to think back to that. Too much on my plate as it is.
After leaving court, had to take some detours. Couldn't shake the feeling I was being tailed. In my line of work, that can be a real problem. No fans waiting to take my picture. No reporters wanting my perfect Sunday. Only instruments of decay. Only vindicated grins. Only Satan's paparazzi staring me down from the barrel of a .38. These kinds of enemies, you can't just look over your shoulder. That's just asking for bullets where your eyes should be. Instead, over time, you learn to take context cues. One footstep too many. Kids, with mother, looking behind you in innocent wonder. An unkempt silhouette in the reflection of a passing shop window. I had all of these today. Had to keep walking. Had to act like I didn't see nothing. Had to act like I wasn't concealing a piece. Like I wasn't waiting for this.
Bastard followed me all the way to the klink. Knew all my detours. Saw his reflection waiting for me when I came out of the sewer on the other side of town. Thought I'd been ratted out.
Backed into a corner in a forgotten alleyway. Knew I was going to die. When I saw that unspeakable thing, blank void where there'd normally be a face, my hands fumbled. Gun fell to floor. Foot accidentally kicked it. My only line of defense was now sliding several feet away. I was doomed, faced with the unknown and the unknowable, and it loomed over me, blocking out all light from the sun, summoning all of its anathematic power in order to deliver a torturous and thorough death straight into my ears.
T. Quiet was at my desk for seven hours too many. Prefaced the auditing process by telling me I didn't have to be there. That he'd just need my input on a couple things. Smug little asshole. Wound up questioning everything I said. Not my fault that I don't keep my receipts. If I did, we'd be swimming in scraps of paper.
Long story short--
"Can you help me get a solid figure on your monthlies?" "What's my monthlies," I said. "Your monthly EBT?" "We talking with interest and amortization? Deductible? Means? And what's a 'month' to you people? Calendar or fiscal? Gimme somethin' to work with." "I just want the gross incomes." "Do you want I should whip out my actuarials too?" Looked at me funny. "Slend, I'm trying to help you here." I muttered a "yeah, yeah" and threw in a grumble-- free of charge. Listed my earnings. Coulda made it a pie chart if he asked. But he didn't. So I didn't. Just would have been neat. "..wait, and what are your expenditures?" "Theoretical or actual?" "What?" "Like, how much I spent, past-tense, or how much I owe overall?" "Uh." "'Cause I can tell you right now, how much I spent looks an awful lot like the number you just came up with." "How in the hell do you keep this business afloat?" "I write as much down as deductible." "As much what?" "As much as the law'll let me."
--Long story short, Quiet walked out of my office after handing me the biggest invoice I've ever seen. Now I'm in debt. To the fuckin' G-men.
First stop after hearing the financial news was to an old friend. Simply known as "the Penguin." By me. Everyone else calls her Red Cap. Because that's her name. She hates it when I call her the Penguin. It's a long story. Everything's a long story when you're in the information business. And business this year was looking a little... in the red.
Red.
Red Cap.
In the.
Penguin runs a church off of 18th and 10th. Don't ask how our streets work. Legislator who proposed the new system launched a successful ad campaign with it. Spawned the slogan "Don't ask, it's eldritch." Now a staple of our popular culture. Prime example of the steady degradation of post-modern society. That was their other slogan. Worked alarmingly well. Anyways, the church. I'm not the type to write up a full report en descriptive narratique, so to speak. Nor am I the sort who'll bother giving you the cold bureaucratic autopsy in feet and geometrical dimensions. Me, a church is a church. And this church had pretty doors. Eat your heart out, Eco.
Found her alone in her ministerial chambers. Which I'm pretty sure is just a fancy way of saying "office." Was surprised she wasn't in the middle of a sermon. Penguin's always doing sermons. Not my thing. Seen enough of the world's crimes to know a hawk from a handsaw. Sort of thing that'll change a man. Change him from going to sermons to not going to sermons. Plus Sundays are my day off. Good enough for God, good enough for me.
I told her about my debt.
She asked me what I expected her to do about it.
I reminded her that we go way back. Grad school. Visited each other so much we practically shared dorms. I reminded her that there was a time she owed me money.
She pointed out that, exactly speaking, she owed me two bucks 'cause I bought her a beer one time. That my business's red ain't her red, not by miles. Again, she asked. What did I expect her to do about it.
I declared, in my famous calculated anguish, that I was up shit creek sans paddle.
She slapped me with a ruler. Told me to watch my mouth.
That conversation went nowhere at all. It looked to me that I'd need to resort to drastic measures. I'd need to put the band back together.
12:42 PM Outside. I never really got a good look at this city, did I? Then again, it's not like I can get a perfectly good look at it now, since I'm just outside a Burger King somewhere in the middle of the big ol' urban centre. It. It looks like a city. A rather bland city, one that eludes any grip in description (except perhaps by the most meta-clever of analysts, which I am not). Like, it looks like it specifically eludes description. That one street, right there? It's kinda grey. Made of.. asphalt? It's got the white lines and stuff. Y'know, it's a road. It's not the kind that has "character," if any road at all can really be said to inherently have character that isn't just a projection of the narrator. GAH! See, I look at it and I just see a road, but when I try to actively think of the road I just end up getting all.. self-referential. o__e
12:44 PM Frank's walking towards me, burger in hand. "So what are you writing? You a journalist or something?" Oh, no. It's more like. A habit at this point? I write, like, everything. Or not everything, but I think I've taken to writing at any point that I get particularly self-conscious, maybe? And then I just write. I write my thoughts and what I'm experiencing. "So you're an experimental artist, exploring the parallels and/or connections between media and the self." I am? "Actually, your description of the act feels like it strikes more at a Sartre-esque 'loneliness = in the presence of an imaginary audience' kinda thing." It does? "Eh." munch "Everyone's a critic." What? ..hey, wait! I'm the one who should be saying that! "It's an integral part of Dekan's social culture. You get used to it." What is? Saying what others should be saying? "Uhh.. more along the lines of 'Everything has a voice.'" I'm lost. "As I said, you get used to it."
12:48 PM Said goodbye to Fentzy. She's going back to the medical ward, needs her rest. Meanwhile, Frank's taking me to his office! :D
12:50 PM It was right around the corner. 'Slenderman & Jeff Law Offices.' Who's Jeff? "That's not important right now."
12:53 PM Yeah, there's literally just a desk and a couch in here. And a poster about traffic laws. "So. You made a good call in court today, with your friend's art stuff." Thanks! It felt like the right thing to ask. "How would you like to partner up?" Like. How so? shrugs "Come with me to all my trials? At least for the immediate future." Is that.. legal? "Hey, nobody objected today. I think you're fine. Besides, I.. work better when there's someone else with me." I mean, sure. As long as I'm here in this city, I'd be happy to help. "Sweet!" While I'm here, do you think you could tell me about this place? "My office?" The city. Decan, was it? "With a K. Dekan was founded--" How could you "Dekan was founded several thousand years ago by viking orders some time after the tectonic shift that joined the two supercontinents of the time into one. Those guys had never seen that side of the world before, and they were ambitious folk, so they resolved to map the entire thing in order to build a capital city at the exact centre. However, they got even more ambitious and decided to do the same thing but with the centre of the entire world. And that's where they built this city!" ..what? We're at the centre of the world? "The centre and the origin." How is that "See, it was those same people who kept being ambitious and wound up discovering and charting the entirety of known physics. They also gave us mathematics, technology, and all of our folklore-- that's the root of our culture!" I. How could a people from millennia ago give unchanging culture and sciences and stuff? "Well, they didn't at the time, but their descendants did. They are the Canonical Vikings." Okay, I know for a fact that you're not saying "vikings." "Vicekings. That's V-I-C-E. The Canonical Order, as they're more commonly called, are basically our inherent governing body. Higher than the government due to their unquestionable wisdom, even." Is that why it's the King's Court? Is it short for "Viceking's Court?" "Nah, the King was a different entity altogether. Dark times in our history. We don't like to talk about him." What happened? "Ehhhhh... he usurped the Viceking, and there were a lot of acts of war, and.. we really don't like to talk about it." But if he was so hated, why name the court after him? "The King's Court was his palace, built in his honour by an awful lot of unpaid workers under threat of banishment. After he was assassinated, the recovering Canonical Order decided to take his palace and turn it into the centre for cross-examination, getting to the truth of the matter, applying righteous justice! By serving the court, ordinary citizens like you and I can do our part to take what was once a site for uncontrollable injustice and spin it on its head." he's folding his arms in pride Huh. That's certainly noble. "Yeah. But this is all textbook stuff, everyone learns it by the time they're twelve. You're really not from around here, are you?" To be honest, I don't know where I'm from in relation to here. But it sure feels like far away.
1:04 PM About what happened today... the prosecution's case was pretty convincing. "Tell me about it. I thought for sure Archie was a goner." But he's your friend! D: "Yeah, but that doesn't mean jack when you're up against cold hard evidence." Hnng. But we proved a cause for reasonable doubt, right? That's about as good as we can get. "It's good. But it's not out of the woods. We still have to prove his innocence." What?! How is this a legal system? "How do you mean?" It's. It's just not how we do it where I'm from. I don't think. "Well, how do your people do it? Do you take the defendant's alibi on blind faith or something?" No! From what I recall, burden of proof lies on the prosecution-- they would have to prove the defendant's guilt, whereas all the defense ultimately needs to do is debunk their case to the point where a jury is convinced. We wouldn't want to risk sentencing an innocent person. "Yeah, we tried a system like that once. It didn't last long. Not for lack of trying, mind you-- I think it just wasn't as popular as the old and now current system? You know how it is. Tradition is a hard trend to break." I don't get it. How can you prove innocence? Does it have to be 100% proof? "In most cases, it's a matter of proving someone else's guilt." What if it's a case where no one is guilty? "False allegations? Those are always rough. Best case scenario, you find proof that the allegations were forged, you prove the plaintiff's guilt in the slander." What about, like, if a death was actually an accident? "Then prove it was an accident. There's almost always evidence for these things. As the saying goes, everything is evidence." That's an interesting saying. "Plus, in most cases that aren't serious crimes, the trials aren't that big of a deal anyway." They're not? o___o "I probably mentioned that I worked a lot in traffic; those are perfect examples of what I'm talking about. Often it's, like, a DUI ticket. If they hit somebody, then great, there's definite parties involved and the case has something to work with. But most often these guys get tickets just for being a little bit tipsy and they just happen to get pulled over for some inspection. You can't really prove or disprove how tipsy is too much, not in the majority of cases where it's right on the line. So the trials for stuff like that tend to just be pure theory-- prosecutor and DA arguing about the ins and outs of legalese and whatnot. Even if the defendant is found guilty, great, they have a ticket to pay, it's never over fifty bucks, and really the city often pays for it." Wow. That's a much less stressful system than the one I'm familiar with. "Admittedly, we get that a lot. Dekan's a popular city for immigration, and our law system's one good reason. Unless it's a murder trial. In which case, be prepared for some serious experimental performances." So the kinds of dialogues as we heard today are common in murder trials? "Murder trials are much less common than traffic. Our legal system never really decided on a clear-cut punishment system for it. So the prosecution and the defense often get really experimental because we want to change how the judge views the defendant-- in effect, we want to change the severity of any punishment should there be a guilty verdict." Wow. o_o "Plus, most of our philosophy has ultimately come from the dialogues between prosecutors and DAs. Court is a fundamental part of our modern culture. The transcripts are distributed for free in all the major publications. We always have an audience in mind, just some cases are more widely-read than others-- media trials, as we call them, are called as such because they get the highest priority of coverage. Front page, photographs, interviews, the lot. A trial like today's? Middle-page material. Not everyone will read that far into these publications." So really, your lawyers are more like performers. "Performers, thinkers, celebrities, we're artists in our own right. Art is integral to everything we as a society stand for."
Hey! DJay here, posting in someone else's story. Like a rascal. Let me set the mood for this post here.
So. Sally's really funny. She's doing PLAN 31 great justice. And lemme tell you, I've been reading and rereading these notes of hers; there's some staggering shit here. Arcs that go way beyond anything I or even her dad have ever even attempted. And it looks like she might even have the writing abilities to follow through on them. So naturally, thrilled as I am by the way things are looking, I wanted to get an audience with the writer herself. I'd never met her or even seen her. So I waltzed on over to Christoph's place, gave him a bottle of wine, and asked him if I could meet her. He just kinda shifted his eyes and asked why I needed to see her. "Hey, whoa, it's no big deal, is it? I only ask 'cause she's continuing my story, and I'm loving her stuff so far." "I understand. Believe me, I do. But she has specifically requested to be left alone. She will not even allow my company except on special circumstances." "Is.. everything okay?" "Absolutely." "Then. Why the enforced isolation? If you don't mind me asking." He gave the fakest shrug I've ever seen. "Women. Am I right?" I looked off to the side, as if to an imaginary camera or live studio audience, and raised my eyebrows. Then we spent a few hours reading media textbooks in deep silence in the company of each other.
Alright, here's where the story gets juicy. Get this. While we were there, in his living room, reading these dense bricks, I kept hearing music from the floor above. The creaking of a bed as pose shifts. The occasional light cough. And naturally, I didn't want to impose by asking anything, so I just kept reading. Besides, for all I knew, it could have been the dude's wife. (Is Christoph even married? He has a daughter, I mean. ...how old even is he? How old is she?) After a few hours, I was considering wrapping up and heading home for important reasons (I like to spend 11 PM lying in absolute darkness on my bed while listening to Kanye West's more experimental work, you see), when I heard a door open upstairs. Footsteps approaching the staircase that leads to that same living room. Christoph looked at me, pale as a ghost, then cautiously stood up as down those stairs came the author herself. The actual author. In pyjamas. Holy mother of god, I have seen her with my own eyes, journal. She's gotta be, like, at least nineteen. (HOW OLD IS CHRISTOPH HE LOOKS SO YOUNG HIMSELF) She's thinner than I am. Thick sleep circles under her eyes too, probably worse than mine, almost as black as her hair. And a voice like.. like it's fit for Radio 4. And I think I scared her? I wouldn't be surprised. We were reading in silence. She saw her father with the most bored expression that lasted only a fraction of a second because then she saw me and fucking jumped. ...I'm doing a terrible job at telling this story. Okay, hang on. So Christoph was all like "I'M SORRY, HE JUST CAME OVER TO READ WITH ME" And I was like "I'M SO SORRY" And she was like "IT'S OKAY WHAT ARE YOU READING" And we were like "WELL RIGHT NOW WE'RE READING CRITICISM OF DAVID FOSTER WALLACE'S 'E UNIBUS PLURAM' ESSAY" And she was like "CRITICISM OF THAT EXISTS?" And we were like "APPARENTLY SO" Then she said she had to take plates down to the kitchen and prepare herself for "meaningful social contact" and we let her pass by. After she had left, Christoph sat back down, looked at me, and chuckled in surprise. I twiddled my thumbs and said "That went well." "That she hasn't retreated to her room means.. something. I admit worry." "..should... should I be worried too?" "That depends on what you fear." "Making an ass of myself in front of a really good writer." "Would you say you also fear being smacked and thrown out of a second-story window?" I paused. "Yeah. Yeah, that's one of my fears. Why?" "No.. reason. At all."
When she came back up, she'd put on a dressing gown and a trilby. I considered that a point in my favour. Even more of one was that she actually came and sat with us. Never one to cower in the face of fear, I spoke first. However, always one to cower in the face of cute girls, I faltered with it. "So how is.. um. How are you? Hello. I'm Jordan?" "You're not as tall as I'd expected. ..or thin." Not even a smile. I apologized, irrationally. "I mean, I'm still pretty thin, or so I like to think. But! So! You're. You're Sally?" "Sally is my name, yes." Christoph was in the corner, face in his hands, but at this he spoke up: "Actually, her name's Sorcha. But it can be short for Sally." She eyed him (a glare?), then finally smiled at me. "Funnily enough, I got 'Sally' from your writing." I imploded into Pillars of Creation inside my heart. "Oh, really?" Jordan, you sly sack of shit. You were way more interested than that. "Yes. It was Salmacis's nickname in later Rapture. I found it peculiar, first of all, how you had decided to assign a gendered nickname to an ambiguously gendered character" those Pillars of Creation faded to dust and self-hatred "but Salmacis never used the name herself, so really I just found it clever how you managed to use one character's name as further characterisation for the narrator. Ever since then, the name has been stuck in my head." and then the Pillars rekindled "Haha! Yeah, Jordan was fun to write." "A perfect asshole." I grinned, but inside I was jumping out of the window myself. "You captured the spirit of adolescence so well." I jumped back into the window. "Thank you! I had to deconstruct something." She nodded. All was silent. Then I asked her about her vow of isolation. "It's not like that. Dad colours things so out of proportion. I just don't often desire company, that's all." A definite glare at Christoph this time. "I would definitely prefer to be alone on today, of all days, but whose company I share is my business to decide." "Oh? What's today?" She looked, once more, at her father. He sighed and said he'd leave us alone to "conversate and be young." She threw a pencil at him.
Can I be the first to say "HOLY FUCK I GOT TO TALK ONE-ON-ONE WITH SALLY FUCKING MAGREAT?" Because holy fuck. I am exploding. The rest of our conversation got pretty personal, and she requested I not share it. But she did request I write this post. She apparently thought it'd work in the flow of the story? I dunno. Seems awfully meta to me. The Magreats are weird.
BUT YEAH GUYS HERE'S THE DEETS THAT MATTER:
She's twenty
She prefers "Sally"
She is totally okay with being my friend
She loves my writing and reads it all pretty carefully in order to get a better sense of how all the characters should sound
Rapture is her favourite story of mine, she cherishes it, and yet Jordan is her least favourite character in it, but she doesn't think favourites even matter
Actually the original PLAN 31 was her least favourite story, she detested it and is interested in writing the sequel because it allows her to essentially ignore the original
She gets sick a lot, hates darkness and sleep, and needs absolute solitude in order to write
SHE IS A TOTAL FIGURE OF MYSTERY OTHER THAN THOSE TRIVIAL DETAILS
actually as a whole she seems basically like me with boobs? but no I'm only projecting because, as said,
THE BLOG WITHOUT A LOGICAL BASE - Detective Slender man
When you're a detective, life's nothing but first stops, long stories, and things that "turn out" to be other things. If you want to minor in detectivery, you have to major in lit. Me, I don't got time for reading. Hardly got time for writing. But I Cliff Note'd a lot of textbooks. Some classics. Other not-so-classics. I can tell you a thing or two about To the Lighthouse. The Lincoln Lawyer's not bad. And I don't mind a small dose of Dante. Primarily my college life was TV. And comic books. "Graphic novels," as some people call them. Point is I got my major. Got my minor too. I know how to spin a good yarn. Not literally. But literately. I know a buddy who can spin a literal yarn, though. Leave a comment below. I'll email you his contact info. He's really good.
Turns out the long story short is my first stop was to Grott Bridge. So named for some sorry bastard who fired me one time. After I arrested him. At the start of this year. He spent a lot of money in his time. May have been a mob boss? But convinced some city fella to name a bridge in his.. uh.. name. I cross the bridge every morning to get to the courts. Even when it doesn't make practical sense too. I like the Canaan. That river and me go way back. I'd spend several minutes a day in college gazing thoughtfully out at it. Contemplating the meaning of life. Why Red Cap wouldn't put out. Why I cared so much about that. It was during that time that I came up with the phrase "The city is a lady." I think every young adult spends some time glancing at nature and wondering why they're so interested in sex. Like. Really why. I'm not even human. Doesn't make sense. Did a lot of that thinking while listening to Taking Back Sunday. Weird phase. I don't even have ears.
First stop in my long story short, turns out I found a suspicious individual pretty quick. A kid milling about. Doing sweet F-A. With his hood up. I know the kid, too. A punk by the name of Billy. Billy Everyblogger. He was high up in my detectivorial interests pre: the whole "debt" debacle. Debtacle? He was wanted for trading highly illicit contraband. You know what I'm talking about. The V-word.
So, long story short, my first stop turned out to be asking him how his camera had been doing. He mumbled something about "sticking it to the man." I said "Watch it!" He said "sorry." I followed him back to his workplace. He works in a DVD store. The only one in the city. Once cause for a lot of gridlock. Thank God for Netflix. I still frequent his store from time to time. Always glad to see it up and running. Even if I want to punch its underage employee in the face. Fucking vlogger.
I slammed my fist on the counter and demanded he cut the wise guy act already and give me the skinny. "What do you know about the murder?" He shifted his eyes left. Shifted his eyes right. Ushered any and all customers out of the store. Closed the damn door. Offered me a cigar. Lit it for me. Put a foot on a chair, rested his arms on his knee. Like in the movies. "Thank you for the cigar, but you still didn't answer my question." He was the one who said that. Threw me for a loop. I had no idea what to say. "My question was what do you know about the murder?" Him again. I don't recall him asking that. Could have sworn I was the one doing the asking. I spoke, this time it definitely was me because I remember the coughing fit: "I know that there's something awful fishy about that bridge, and you're gonna tell--" That was when I broke into the aforementioned coughing fit. Damn cheap cigars. "Calm down. You're gonna rupture a lung or something. Here, drink some tequila. It'll wake you up." I said that this time, one step ahead of his game. Then the owner of the shop heard me offering alcohol to a minor and kicked me out.
.....but not before I rooted through his garbage! I'll take it to the klink for questioning.
The klink is a nice place. It's got a few blocks of jail cells. Nothing fancy. Just enough to detain a couple of no-good good-for-nothing crooks who are on their way to Justice. That's the name of our prison. Other than the cells, there's a bunch of offices, an evidence room, and a coffee maker. You can guess where I like to spend my time. ..it's the coffee maker.
I had just thrown the literal piles of garbage into Cell 4 when in came the new prosecutor. The something. Black Mask, that's it. 'Cause of his black mask. I didn't get a good look at him in court. Turns out he's got no actual legs. More like a glitch than anything else. He was just coming out of another cell some blocks away when we passed in the hall.
"Detective." "How you doin'." I should mention that I didn't recognize him at this point. "I trust that you're performing all necessary investigations with due diligence?" "Yeah." I nodded a ton in silence for emphasis. "Dude Ill n' Gents is my middle name." "Good. Listen, keep this strictly off-the-record, but--" "Actually, I think it was my father's." He wasn't listening. "..but I'm hereby submitting a formal inquiry as to the whereabouts of the McFear artifacts." "I think I know that guy." "This is confidential, of course. Your audience only, for the time being." "Sure. You can trust me." Still didn't recognize him. "I don't wish to cause alarms among the constituency, but it is my belief that those artifacts are central to this case. Do you know anything about the victim?" "The robot? He was a lawyer, wasn't he?" "You mean you didn't know about his hobby?" "Listen, whatever that guy got up to in his private life was strictly between him and the missus, it's none of my--" "Alright. Forget I said anything." He walked off. "You got it." Then I finally remembered who he was. Oh well.
Next thing I did was log onto my computer and start writing these public blog posts.
The City of Dekan, Plaintiff, -vs- No. 417 ARCHIBALD "ARCHIE" ANGELO, Defendant.
I, SORCHA MARION MAGREAT, DRR, DCA, RPR, Official Court Reporter, do hereby certify: That the following post 19 contains a true and correct transcript of the proceedings had in the within and above-entitled matter as by me taken down in shorthand writing at said proceedings on August 21, 2014, and thereafter reduced to web log by computer-aided transcription under my direction. DATED: Dekan, underscore, August 21, 2014.
SORCHA MARION MAGREAT, DRR, DCA, RPR TRANSCRIPT
Bailiff: Will everyone please rise for the courtroom background music?
Court is in Session
SupremeHat: THANK YOU, MALKATOR. PARK YOUR BUTTS. [everyone sits] SupremeHat: YESTERDAY WE HAD A BIT OF A RIDE ON OUR HANDS. MISTER ANGELO, THE ACCUSED, WAS OUT THERE ON THE MORNING OF THE 18TH BECAUSE HE WAS FISHING. BMask: Or so he claims. SupremeHat: YEAH, THAT. AND DOCTOR CLOUD WAS THERE, AND SO WAS THE CRAZY APOCALYPSE GIRL. SHIT WAS WHACK. WE CONCLUDED THAT THIS CASE NEEDED MORE RESEARCH. MISTER BLACK MASK! DID YOU OR YOUR POLICE FORCE EXAMINE THE BRIDGE?
BMask: I did, in fact, send for the bridge and environs to be examined, but not much progress could be made in the 24 hours given.
SupremeHat: OH WELL. TELL US WHAT YOU FOUND ANYWAY.
BMask: The prosecution asks for Detective Slender man to take the stand!
[Detective Slender man takes the stand, cigarette in mouth promptly taken away by bailiff Malkator]
BMask: Detective, will you please inform the court of your findings yesterday?
Sman: The investigation was arduous, monotonous, and took all night. The bridge was covered in footprints, so many that not even the crispest microscope could ascertain which came when.
[he shrugs]
Sman: Bridge gave nothing.
SupremeHat: THANK YOU FOR YOUR HARD WORK, DETECTIVE.
Sman: All in a day's work, sir.
BMask: Actually, all he did was throw trash bags into Cell 4. My task force did most of the investigation.
SupremeHat: FUCK YOU FOR YOUR LAZINESS, DETECTIVE.
Sman: All in a day's work, sir.
FrankSlenderman: Trash bags?
Sman: Yup.
Slenderman: ..why trash bags?
Sman: My investigations took me to a shop nearby the bridge, where I had reason to believe a no-good criminal was conspiring to sell contraband. The trash bags were from said shop.
SupremeHat: HUH. I TAKE BACK MY "FUCK YOU," DETECTIVE. GOOD JOB.
Sman: All in a day's work, sir.
BMask: That's unrelated to this case, though.
Sman: I wouldn't say that. I spotted the criminal in question loitering around the projected crime scene.
Slenderman: You mean Grott Bridge?
Sman: The very same.
[Frank slams his hands on his desk]
Slenderman: Your Honor! These literal piles of garbage may prove relevant-- no, fundamentally crucial to the case!
BMask: What?!
Slenderman: The defense asks that they be submitted to the Court Record!
BMask: You're joking!
SupremeHat: HMM. THIS SOUNDS LIKE A POINTLESS EXERCISE THAT MAY BE A TOTAL WASTE OF TIME.
[pause]
SupremeHat: LET'S DO IT.
[everyone in the court leans over their desks and stares at it in careful concentration]
SupremeHat: HMMMMM. SO THIS IS THE TRASH BAG, YOU SAY.
BMask: I don't see anything particularly special upon first glance, but who knows what illegal mysteries lay within its clutches?
Jordan: I feel like I'm in the presence of gods. Knowing my luck, I probably am.
Sman: I will now open the trash bag.
[he does so]
Sman: The contents are as follows: One (1) big pile of ground coffee waste. Seven (7) empty milk cartons. A bunch (5) of napkins. Some (???) crumpled-up paper plates. One (1) piece of paper with "GOOGLEBOT MUST DIE EVEN IF I MUST PUSH HIM OFF GROTT BRIDGE MYSELF" written on it. Two (2) broken DVD cases. And a crushed paper cup (1).
SupremeHat: THE SECRETS OF THE TRASH BAG A MYRIAD RAINFALL OF ANSWERS BEGET. Slenderman: I couldn't have said it better myself, Your Honor. SupremeHat: OF COURSE YOU COULDN'T. THAT'S WHY I SAID IT.
[The members of the court argue over the trash bag for a while. The camera tracks backward, out of the courtroom, and reaches the lobby, whereupon it turns and approaches an elevator labelled "OUT OF SERVICE." The elevator dings, the doors open, the camera enters, the elevator is called from somewhere below, the doors close, the elevator hums with dutiful life. We head down to the depths beneath the King's Court, where Doors are kept in the forgotten evidence storage rooms.]
[Lights flicker, assailed by no one. Cobwebs keep company for cryptozoology encased in celluloid. A Genesis song plays somewhere on a broken record that has spun for years. Our camera, vessel of knowledge, the eye's aegis, approaches a Door buried under the rest.]
[The Door opens.]
[We enter.]
[We enter the Rapture canon.]
[We enter a level sand untouched by time, where a windward wanderer travels, direction set for the heart of the Sampo. But where is it? And, for that matter, where is this desert?]
[The wanderer transcends the gates of nonexistence and manifests in an old reality. Graves line the figure's passage.]
[A massive cenotaph, fabled one of seven, pokes out of the ill-drawn dunes ahead. Its buttresses crack and heave under pressure of erosive years.]
[The wanderer treads past sand-swept hut, inhabitants long gone. The wanderer does not look at any but the temple ahead. If the wanderer had chosen, instead, to explore this abandoned home, we would have been treated to a cluttered room, left in a hurry. A journal, dumped on the floor, would have greeted us with the following poem:
['Who knocks? ' 'I, who was beautiful Beyond all dreams to restore, I from the roots of the dark thorn am hither, And knock on the door.'
['Who speaks? ' 'I -- once was my speech Sweet as the bird's on the air, When echo lurks by the waters to heed; 'Tis I speak thee fair.'
['Dark is the hour!' 'Aye, and cold.' 'Lone is my house.' 'Ah, but mine? ' 'Sight, touch, lips, eyes gleamed in vain.' 'Long dead these to thine.'
[Silence. Still faint on the porch Brake the flames of the stars. In gloom groped a hope-wearied hand Over keys, bolts, and bars.
[A face peered. All the grey night In chaos of vacancy shone; Nought but vast sorrow was there -- The sweet cheat gone.]
Turns out some kid did it, jabbed a crowbar into GoogleBot and pushed him off a bridge. The note in the trash bag was damning evidence, not even the Black Mask could explain that one away. For a while, we suspected that maybe someone else had planted the note in the trash bag? But when Billy was called to the stand, he copped to everything before anyone even asked. He didn't explain why he did it, but Frank tells me that's a question for another day, and probably another attorney.
We walked out of the court quite overwhelmed. Frank didn't expect the case to get such a conclusive resolution, and I sure as hell didn't either.
The rest of the day was spent with Archie, getting him through all the paperwork involved and taking him out to a late lunch. In lieu of payment for his defense, Archie offered to be Frank's new driver. So that's a thing, I guess. Now he's driving us back to the office.
7:04 PM
back in the office
Archie has gone out for a smoke, Frank's pulled up some chairs
"So where are you from?"
I don't really know how I'd answer that in relation to here.
"Then don't. Where are you from, in general? I want to hear about how your world worked."
I'm from Europe. Or. The United Kingdom, but that's technically in the continent of Europe, and I, uh.. relate more to European ideals than English ones.
"Is English the kingdom? What's the king like?"
The kingdom is Great Britain, which is made up of a few nations, including England which is the implicit power.
"Ah, so 'English' is a conjugation of 'England.' Were the Engs a people?"
The Anglo-Saxons. England is the land of the Anglos.
"Did they look like you?"
For the most part? I think on my mother's side I come from the Anglo-Saxons, but on my father's side I'm Irish. Uh. Descended from Ireland, land of various Gaelic tribes. I think my dad once said I'm a direct descendant of a line of high kings?
"Neat. So your world was very concerned with biological lineage, it sounds like."
I guess. Actually yeah. Yeah, it was. I wasn't too into that. I preferred abstraction.
"And these Gaelic tribes, did they get along with the Anglos?"
I have no clue, honestly. I didn't learn much European history. Spent most of my life an ocean away, in America.
he's gotten up and gone to the fridge "I'm still listening! Just getting some dinner. Tell me about America. Tell me about its values."
American values? Heh. Freedom, and nothing else.
"Noble enough."
Oh, you misunderstand. While they use the word "freedom" as given to them by the Anglo-Saxons and our Germanic roots, they'd translated the word a little differently. To the American powers, "freedom" exclusively refers to the self and precludes a conflagration of responsibility.
"Oh fuck yes, a pizza. What do you mean by 'the self?'"
Well, American freedom is exclusively a freedom from things. Freedom from being told what to do, freedom from having to consider opposing viewpoints, freedom from having standards that regulate dangerous things, freedom from being mildly inconvenienced for the sake of allowing another human to coexist. And, tellingly, this is enforced at a state level and iterated at federal level.
"That's.. interesting. How did they resolve conflicts? Sounds like they couldn't have gotten much done."
They resolved conflicts, don't worry. Resolved them with force and with censorship.
"I think I get you." oven open, pizza in, oven close "Whoever was the first to have freedom then decided they didn't want to have any possibility of being challenged, so they became King and twisted the definitions a little."
Yeah, as a matter of fact. And one of their twists was renaming "King" to "President," and then later to "CEO." But the president of the empire remained the High King.
"They were an empire? Now this makes a lot more sense. Hey, want a beer?"
An empire in all but name. They realized pretty quickly that identifying as an "empire" was bad PR, so they just stopped being explicit about it. Sure, if you're offering. Thank you.
"Your lawyers must have had their work cut out for them."
They most certainly did. But lawyers were part of how the empire bent their definitions and enforced their prohibitions. They weren't quite the noble profession they are here.
"They. I don't understand. They used questioning to take away freedoms? How is that possible?"
It's.. hard to explain. I wasn't around long enough to be able to see all the nuances to it, but obfuscation was pretty important to the people in power.
"Obfuscation. They let linguistic games dictate their policies? What kind of empire was this?"
I think we're at a difference of language here. I just mean that the people in power lied.
"But then. How were they in power?"
Through force?
"And your Mab didn't drown them?"
Our what?
"Your river Mab."
I don't know of any rivers called Mab on my world.
"Then your analogue to Mab."
I don't know what Mab is!
"You're shitting me. You use it, practically dance with it, yet you don't know what it is?"
Well. What is it?
"The future in a plastic bag. Tell you what, I'll take you to our local Mab Centre tomorrow, show you how Dekan lives and breathes."
Sure! o: I'm very curious.
7:12 PM
"Hey, do you listen to music? I've got this CD I've been meaning to listen to for a while, figured I'd pop it in, do you mind?"
I don't mind at all!
END OF EPISODE 1
[At last the wanderer reaches the sunkept arch welcoming all into the cenotaph.] [The wanderer enters.]
three Veren je Veden The Liquid Quarters 8 5
[Chamber echoes, calling us inward.]
[Inward, us calling echoes chamber.]
[Centre untouched by time--time untouched by centre]
[Riverfull of blood and waterfall against each other]
[Still rage fill page but traveler looks on]
[Traveler but rage still each against waterfall and -time by untouched centre inward us calling echoes chamber.]
We see our villein. Tu?
[the wanderer fights two figures in his head. one is felled, the other has been waiting for a long time for this.]
[the figures vanish.]
[Tiresias, blind keeper of history, challenges wanderer to a duel of might.]
[Tiresias, keeper of history blind, can fell all with a one-two punch.]
[Wanderer, flaneur that time forgot, can recover from any hit.]
[Wanderer, constant in space, outlasts. Wanderer, space in constant, outlasts.]
The ritual fulfilled, the Wanderer successfully summons one of the Black Eyes, all that's left of the despised Planck gods, killers of McFear. For McFear will return. And this multi-canon battlefield must be populated with those who will fight it. So says the gospel of the Supreme Hat, who damns the Mab.
How many Jordans are there, exactly? Can it even be pinpointed? He shifted the outward presentation of his beliefs like it was his true art (and maybe he even believed it was), but from my relatively limited time in getting to know him, I attained a significant impression: He believed in a three-dimensional material universe masking an eleven-dimensional ideal multiverse. It's in that multiverse that the Jordans lie; count the universes, and you've got the answer to our problem. This answer, for which we will for now substitute x, is an infinite number but a definite one. Pun not intended.
Focusing on the contexts of Plan 31, we can delineate five Jordans which are immediately pertinent, with an additional three within hypothetical range.
Jordan from OH GOD THE RAPTURE IS BURNING, the narrator of the "Jordan" posts in Plan 31.
Jordan from Jordan Eats Normally Now, who appeared in the first Plan 31. Since Doctor Cloud is present in this one, that implies that Jordan is canon too.
Jordan, author-character of Dark Chao Adventures, author-character of Plan 31, minor character in the Everyblogger triad. Those are the same Jordan, the one who befriended me.
Jordan-as-legend, surrogate for Shem, written on the walls of the Viceking's Graab.
The material Jordan, the one that any reader might assume is typing this post until the revelation comes.
The aforementioned hypotheticals:
The specific instance of Rapture!Jordan in Close Encounter of the Sock Kind is from an early draft of Rapture, whereas the instance in Rise of McFear is from the final draft. These might be considered two separate Jordans, then.
In any case, in the final draft of Rapture, there are exactly two separate Jordans anyway: One who was launched into the Sampo by Seppo Ilmarinen, "dying" as far as that universe is concerned but waking up as a narrator in Plan 31; and One who was born from the creation of the Sampo, whom Thoth and Nyarlathotep refer to as a "Nobody." The Nobody's arc is not your concern here, though there's always the chance it might become your concern, and so this marks another Jordan Of Hypothetical Pertinence.
Someone had to co-create the early Sunsetters albums with Lindsay, from which excerpts are posted in this blog. For reasons which the unspoken "revelation" may make clear, this is not the material Jordan. I do not know if this Jordan will interact with Plan 31 beyond being part of the context for producing background music, and as such, he is another JOHP.
The fact that Plan 31 concerns itself with five Jordans, and potentially a total of eight, is an amusing coincidence for those who enjoy the recurrence of those "arc numbers." I certainly find it amusing, but then, who am I to you?
To be honest, I don't know who I am to myself either. There are a few of me scattered across that multiverse, and I don't know if you'd believe me when I said Jordan didn't actually create any of them. I'm not Salmacis, I'm not related to Salmacis, I'm hardly related to Christoph Magreat. You could call him an adopted father, and you could call "Sally" an adopted identity. Maybe my name is actually Sal. Maybe it's Issy. Maybe, even, maybe it's also Jordan, but unrelated to all those instances of him. Or maybe I haven't decided on a name just yet, and that's okay. So let's stick with "Sally" for now. It works for Plan 31, I'd say.
You're waiting for something that Jordan owes the world. A creation, a long one, and not just another promise of one. You might not have given the Graab the chance to give you the long creation contained deep within, you didn't want to have to go looking for it, and you might not be totally on board with the Sunsetters as a substitute for some good old-fashioned experimental emotional long-form storytelling. With words. Even if you were, you're getting tired of waiting for whatever Sunsetters material is supposedly in the works. What was it this time, was it Summer Sucks? An 85-minute prog opera? Sure. That'd be a good start, if it was done already. The radio silence is getting a bit much. And you're not gonna get mad at him for taking his time, necessarily, but... there's still an emotional reaction, isn't there? Something deeper. A sort of emptiness that feels full as it builds within you. Then he released that one blog post, composition no. 7 from that one blog, where he said he didn't even want to write anymore, and that kinda sealed it, didn't it? That allowed the emptiness in your gut to speak louder than ever before, uttering in a voice you recognize all too well from recent years: a flat "Okay." A defeated "Okay." An "Okay" that wants to not care. Rapture's probably not coming, it says. Most people see all this and, yeah, they go on, there's more to life. But maybe you, maybe there is a "you" out there, just as maybe there's really a "Sally" here typing these words, maybe you.. just... want something, maybe this is starting to really sting, maybe these stories meant something and you want to, need to, see them.. continue, as they were meant to. And I've got to tell you, if "you" really do exist, you're on the same page. As Jordan, the material Jordan, who lost his voice and muddled his fire and became a Nobody and got trapped in the walls. There's a goddamn, a godforsaken, a grim sadness to it all, isn't there? This sadness, it's been building up since the early days, and while it has produced some prose from him that's been at times poignant and at times cutting, now it seems to have turned itself onto you, and that's just.. not.. fair, is it? What is this, is this revenge of some sort? Doesn't Jordan understand that the people who hurt him aren't gonna be the same ones reading his stories, especially not now? But of course he does, it's gotta be stinging him too, the anger in his prose cuts him as he reads the stuff he'd long forgotten writing. It's like the sadness in these words encapsulates a bad night, and any time he wants to have a bad night again, all he's got to do is reread. So where's all the good nights? Where's the happy prose to counteract this? Why isn't he writing? Why is he doing this?
... ..so you see that Plan 31 has posted again, and you check it out, because, like... even if this is "a Sally story," you know it's really a Jordan story. Yeah. Oh yeah. You know the truth.
And holy shit, this actually goes somewhere. I mean, it's not a story, but this post has stuff going on, maybe even addressing some threads previous unfinished stories had left hanging. If you interpret it as Jordan using Sally as a vehicle to speak from his heart, then this post has already said an awful lot. But the thing is, if that is the interpretation you happen to believe in, this post is going to say something weird. And I've got to ask you to just... take it at face value this time. No metanarrative tricks. Just one single metaphor that's not doing a good job at hiding anymore. You'll pick up on it. I promise.
See, I am Sally. And I'm saying all this not to justify a friend's absence, but to.. process something that's fucking hard to process. You're going to see Jordan's voice a lot in Plan 31's future, and you're going to want to believe it's really him under all these layers of fiction. Because you might think fiction is like a disguise, or a veil with which to cover oneself. It might look like someone can even hide, under fiction, from the world. I might have wondered that same thing once.
It's not him, though. It's just his ghost, underneath all the layers. Some Jordan that's still alive out there in that multiverse of ideas, still scribbling in a journal that we can only ever see echoed.
And the sickest thing is, there might not have ever been a Jordan for our "material" world. This is not unheard of; the world is full of cases of mistaken identities, names as ghosts attached to the bodies of people-- children, adults, so many people stuck under falsehoods, drowning under them, a social prison, perhaps a real honest Fear made manifest, the almighty face-ful Gender Man. It sounds funny, more of a McFear, until you've stared him in all his eyes yourself.
Jordan is dead, and the Gender Man has decreed that I must live with his ghost.
That's the Revelation. The Apocalypse. The veils were uncovered, all except for one near-transparent metaphor. Luckily for you, my reader, Plan 31 already has practice uncovering and re-covering layers of fiction, and it won't have trouble putting those layers back on again. You'll get your Episode Two, and you'll hear from a Jordan, and maybe he'll be one who matters, or maybe he'll be one of those other Jordans. We've got an infinite number of them, after all.
What about you, though? How many of you are there? I hope you're on good terms with them. A cacophony of You is a lot to live with.
