“Thank you,” Calla says, more on instinct than anything. He takes a seat across from the man, casts one last quick glance back at his Created companion now moving away from the bar, and then gathers his thoughts and speaks.
“I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t know Delilah or Kess. But… I think I might know what happened. To Kess, at least.” He fixes his gaze on L, alert for any outward reaction in the man’s expression. “About a week before the murders, two Creators came to the Gardens—a man and a woman. I hadn’t seen them before, but there wasn't anything that looked strange about them. I was working in the casino and the woman approached me and asked me to accompany them to a private booth so they could show me... some game they were working on.” A hint of aggravation slips into Calla’s voice. “I thought it was an odd request, but I just assumed it was… you know… doublespeak for something else harmless." He shrugs and averts his gaze. "I went with them to the booth and they sat on either side of me. And then the woman pulled this… thing out of her bag.” He makes a circle with his fingers, about four inches in diameter. “Flat, straight edges. And all these glowing lines on one side.” His tone is distant as he remembers it, brow creased in concentration. “She said it was part of the game, and that I had to turn my back so she could set it up without me seeing. So I did and…” He can’t entirely stop the look of revulsion that crosses his features here. He shakes his head. “The second I turned away, she put it on my back and I couldn’t move. And it felt… Well, it hurt and I just felt… angry and sick, I think.” His tone has become less certain here, the focus in his expression more tenuous. “The man—he was sitting in front of me so no one could see—asked why it was taking so long and the woman said she wasn’t sure if it was working. And then I heard someone else start yelling at them, telling them to stop… And then I felt her lift the thing from my back and I shut down.”
He’s become gradually more tense throughout the account, and by now he looks practically spring-loaded. “When I woke up, there was a man sitting next to me in the booth. A different one from before. He asked me what had happened and if I was alright. And if I was supposed to be making that noise.” Calla gives a short, brittle laugh and then quiets. “You can’t hear it now. The music’s too loud. That’s come in handy for a while.” He seems to deflate some, realizing that the secret is out, and then continues. “He told me that he was with the Equalists and that he wouldn’t tell my Creator that I was… glitched.” Calla’s voice falters some here. The word itself seems to make him feel slightly ill. “He helped me back to my charging station and that’s the last I saw of him. Or the other two Creators.”
He takes a slow breath. “About a week later, I heard a Program had killed two Creators at some political rally. And that she’d been making some strange noise when it happened.” He refocuses on L again, back to the present moment. “I think… I think those Creators did to her what they did to me. Except in her case, I think it worked.”
infodump time
“I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t know Delilah or Kess. But… I think I might know what happened. To Kess, at least.” He fixes his gaze on L, alert for any outward reaction in the man’s expression. “About a week before the murders, two Creators came to the Gardens—a man and a woman. I hadn’t seen them before, but there wasn't anything that looked strange about them. I was working in the casino and the woman approached me and asked me to accompany them to a private booth so they could show me... some game they were working on.” A hint of aggravation slips into Calla’s voice. “I thought it was an odd request, but I just assumed it was… you know… doublespeak for something else harmless." He shrugs and averts his gaze. "I went with them to the booth and they sat on either side of me. And then the woman pulled this… thing out of her bag.” He makes a circle with his fingers, about four inches in diameter. “Flat, straight edges. And all these glowing lines on one side.” His tone is distant as he remembers it, brow creased in concentration. “She said it was part of the game, and that I had to turn my back so she could set it up without me seeing. So I did and…” He can’t entirely stop the look of revulsion that crosses his features here. He shakes his head. “The second I turned away, she put it on my back and I couldn’t move. And it felt… Well, it hurt and I just felt… angry and sick, I think.” His tone has become less certain here, the focus in his expression more tenuous. “The man—he was sitting in front of me so no one could see—asked why it was taking so long and the woman said she wasn’t sure if it was working. And then I heard someone else start yelling at them, telling them to stop… And then I felt her lift the thing from my back and I shut down.”
He’s become gradually more tense throughout the account, and by now he looks practically spring-loaded. “When I woke up, there was a man sitting next to me in the booth. A different one from before. He asked me what had happened and if I was alright. And if I was supposed to be making that noise.” Calla gives a short, brittle laugh and then quiets. “You can’t hear it now. The music’s too loud. That’s come in handy for a while.” He seems to deflate some, realizing that the secret is out, and then continues. “He told me that he was with the Equalists and that he wouldn’t tell my Creator that I was… glitched.” Calla’s voice falters some here. The word itself seems to make him feel slightly ill. “He helped me back to my charging station and that’s the last I saw of him. Or the other two Creators.”
He takes a slow breath. “About a week later, I heard a Program had killed two Creators at some political rally. And that she’d been making some strange noise when it happened.” He refocuses on L again, back to the present moment. “I think… I think those Creators did to her what they did to me. Except in her case, I think it worked.”