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And then you see it. As it strangles and beats your friends to death... the sweetest most courageous people in the world. You see the fear and power in its eyes. Then you *know*. That the bourgeois are not human.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - His partner Émile Mollins can't be there -- he's in another apartment with another man who's showing him a dead dog under the radiator. “It's dead,” Mollins says. “No,” the man replies. “I touched him. He's warm.”

There is a radio in the distance. A radio of the world. Playing sounds - Good morning, Elysium. Soon you will return to the world.

CHESTER MCLAINE - “It's not like that. They're what you call *hetero-sexual life partners*. They have a battle-tested relationship. A 'bröderbund', if you will.”

Every so often, you might hear a gunshot pierce the air somewhere in Jamrock. But in Martinaise? No gunshots, no sirens. The people are languishing in boredom and complacency. This place is a sepulcher. We'll paint it red. We bring the raucous -- you bring the sirens.

JOYCE MESSIER - “Indeed. There is a term of endearment they coined for it. In the Dolorian century, when humanity was *high* on this world, discovering more and more of it -- these archipelagos included...” YOU - “What is it?” JOYCE MESSIER - “Elysium.”

BLOATED CORPSE OF A DRUNK - You really dropped the ball, Harry. Four point six billion people -- and you failed every single one of them. You really *fucked up*.

INLAND EMPIRE - A strange feeling... looking at the water. Maybe you should just wander off into the sea? Leave it all and walk in... ELECTROCHEMISTRY - With a bottle in your hand.

ENDURANCE - It's time to wipe that decadent homo-sexual grin off your face.

INLAND EMPIRE - There is also a *fourth* thing you've lost. YOU - A... fourth thing? INLAND EMPIRE - More precious than the gun, the badge and the motor carriage *combined*. Lost forever. Into the deepest of seas.

Are you... are you part of the *homo-sexual underground*?

KIM KITSURAGI - “*Sunrise, parabellum*,” the lieutenant says. He's in the middle of a freshly cleaned room, with the fan above his head like a halo. His face is covered in bruises.

PALEDRIVER - “The look on her face -- like an orgasm. The wound in her chest. My hand in my father's hand...” She closes her eyes, her eyelids trembling. “Except I never had a father. And I never shot Her Innocence Dolores Dei.”

COALITION WARSHIP ARCHER - But as the sun sets, the shadows cast by those columns and arcades weave together to form an intricate umbral lattice. When you see it, you suddenly understand: It was all built for you, for *this very moment*.

YOU - Wait, the pale is human made? INSULINDIAN PHASMID - It is a nervous shadow cast into the world by you, eating away at reality. A great, unnatural territory. Its advent coincides with the arrival of the human mind.

DOLORES DEI - I always loved you for it -- but it could not save us. It could not make me stay. ELECTROCHEMISTRY - You would be right to drown this shit in alcohol. Drown it... until your neurons depolarize. Until it's gone, melted.

YOU - “I need to go to the children, Kim. Girl Child Communism. Boy Child Freedom.” KIM KITSURAGI - “You mean we should do that *right now*, don't you?” the lieutenant asks, his usually even tone wavering slightly. “Can that be done *after* the murder investigation?”

You're sitting on a kicksled, whizzing through the snow. A warm, kind presence is guiding the sled behind you, her mittened hand resting on your back. You feel very, very loved -- and very, very safe.

“Everyone has their own method of coping, some more effective, or self-destructive, than others...” He gives you a meaningful look.

INLAND EMPIRE - His corpse is marked by stars. YOU - What will mine be marked by? INLAND EMPIRE - Alcohol and heartbreak. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Your fist clenches suddenly. YOU - It will be riddled with disco.

29-year-old wunder-twins Guy and Keith Joost are the stars of the show, with their bomber jackets and white sneakers -- head curators of this art exhibition. It's the wompty-dom-di-dommiest event of the year and all the cool kids have RSVP’d. Where are you, if you are not there?

KIM KITSURAGI - “We might need your help with something later,” he adds, suddenly regaining his confidence. AUTHORITY - As if he recalled that he's, in fact, a decorated police lieutenant, and not a naughty boy. ELECTROCHEMISTRY - The two aren't mutually exclusive.

No, I need to go back to a time when *love* was still possible.

NO, YOU DON'T, YOU NEED TO GET ANOTHER DRINK; OCCIDENTAL HAPLOGROUP B4 IS DONE GIVING ORDERS AROUND HERE. THE INFLUENCE OF THE *HAM SANDWICH RACE* IS WANING.

YOU - “Lamby looks soft.” LITTLE LILY - “Yes. Very soft.” Suddenly she pushes the stuffed animal toward your face. YOU - “I don't deserve it. I'm scum.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - There's a satisfying crack as the cap comes off, and the hair on your back rises like an army at attention. You've been here before. Welcome back, detective. You're home now...

SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL IS GOING TO HAPPEN

I can still fix it.

VOLITION - In honour of your will, lieutenant-yefreitor. That you kept from falling apart, in the face of sheer terror. Day after day. Second by second. INLAND EMPIRE - DETECTIVE ESPRIT DE CORPS - ARRIVING AUTHORITY - ON THE SCENE

VOLITION - No. Not a disaster. Weave this into the story of you. Walk out of its *ruins*. Save those who still can be saved -- *I'm* on your side.

YOU - I don't wanna say *cock-carousel* anymore.

JOYCE MESSIER - The Coalition of Nations. Graad, Mesque, Vesper, Messina, Oranje and Sur-La-Clef -- the armed centre of the world. They landed here and ended the Revolution. It was the *moralist* thing to do.

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - And when you fall we will come to raise you up, bud from you, banner-like, blossom from you and carry you apart in a sky funeral. In honour of your passing. (But not me, because I am just a leaf eater.)

Turn from the ruin. Turn and go *forward*.

RHETORIC - You -- against the atom, the charm and the spin. Where the whole world failed -- matter failed to bend to human will; human will failed to get out of bed and tie its laces -- you alone, single-handedly, will rebuild the dreams of the working class. You are The Last Communist.

SHIVERS - GO TO THE CHILDREN OF THE BIG SEA. RHETORIC - The big sea…The Big C? That can only mean one thing - Communism. YOU - Yes, Comrade Zephyr. I shall find them. Girl Child Revolution and Girl Child Communism! SHIVERS - BOY CHILD FREEDOM. BOY CHILD JUSTICE.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - “In dark times, should the stars also go out?”

YOU - …I don't want to masturbate on the street, okay? ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Whatever, coward.

YOU - “The wind told me to talk to children. Let's roll.”

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant leans in confidentially. “You wouldn't be able to hear if he were wearing anal beads,” he whispers.

YOU - “Do you wish you were out there fishing right now?” LILIENNE, THE NET PICKER - “Aye, always do... I like it. It's like being on another planet. A water planet. With water worries... and water joys.”

KIM KITSURAGI - “Press your damn cheek against Lamby, okay?” The lieutenant sounds authoritative -- and surprisingly gruff.

BLOATED CORPSE OF A DRUNK - No. It's gone. Three times gone and never coming back. You failed. You failed me. BLOATED CORPSE OF A DRUNK - You failed Elysium

KIM KITSURAGI - “Harry... it explains *everything*. The running around. The jumping. The *shot-put*. Your inexplicable facial hair...”

YOU - RIGHT HERE ON THE SEA ICE?!

Real darkness has love for a face. The first death is in the heart.

Brother, you already *were* a ghost. Up there, screaming — along with all of them. Scaring each other. Haunting each other. It's the living who are ghosts. The dead are silent. They don't rattle windows or write letters in blood. The living do. Leave them behind. Rest.

YOU - I seem to have named a case “THE SQUARE BULLET HOLE MURDERS.” KIM KITSURAGI - “Again, in your defence, I seem to have named one...” He peeks into his notes. “THE MAN WITH THE HOLE IN HIS HEAD. That was a real person, his death was real. Still I named it that. To amuse myself.”

YOU - No need for secrets. SHIVERS - No need for anything anymore.

Maybe you should *stop* obsessing about your own -- and other people's -- sexuality? Feels like it’s about time to do that. You’ve thought about this for *eight hours*?! Not only should you stop, you should tell Kim you've stopped obsessing about other people's sexuality too.