level_act32side_st02

(Yawns)

Reynell really knows how to grind gears. A perfectly good art gallery opening and he has to hold it late in the night. Now I'm stuck here, waiting it to finish in the morning.

I bet Reynell's gonna show us something totally out there, don't you? Why the all-nighter otherwise?

Whatever. I was looking forward to the street art community festival anyway, and that got cancelled for no reason. I've got nowhere else to be.

Reynell's taken the joke too far. Keeping the concrete details of this opening ceremony secret even from high-level partners like us...

Hrmph. I suppose playing to the gallery is his literal job.

<i>You</i> think of a joke that manages to drive over half of Terra's art investors scrambling to our Bunkerhill City HQ the way they have for the Galería Krysztauowa, and <i>then</i> I'll hear you whine.

Yessir...

This Kazimierzian on the brochure... I wonder if his salon really will get a painting or two of mine sold...

This isn't Leithanien. It's all about your story, whether or not it's enough to excite the investors.

Didn't you say to leave all that work to you?

I kept telling you, dye your hair, learn some profanity, dress in tatty clothes, call yourself a rebel against the rotten system of nobility, and they'll all eat it right up. But you won't do any of that. So what can I even say?

I'll give you one last tip. It can't beat a rebel spirit, but there's people who still like the down-and-out noble as a sell. Whether or not it's enough get the investors stirring all comes down to you.

Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. Our opening ceremony is about to commence.

Repeat. Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. Our opening ceremony is about to commence—

Reynell saunters up to the podium erected in the Galería's front plaza.

He calmly surveys the crowd before him a few times, especially the ones in seats closest to him. He confirms to himself that all expected have shown up, and then clears his throat.

Everyone, good morning, good afternoon, or good evening—please, take your pick, depending on when you usually sleep.

Thank you to everyone who applauded, and thank you to those who didn't. You have, after all, sacrificed your own precious sleep hours to admire this magnificent dawn with me, here in the City of Two Suns.

Hrmph.

Thank you for your warm welcome.

Thank you for joining me as together, we make history. A small part of it for sure, and possibly of no note to ages far from now, but to all of you here, it will be one you remember for the rest of your lives.

What a smooth talker.

God save Bolívar, and God save Dossoles ♪

Our tourists fork out money with their brains full of air ♪

And the future of this city is one and same ♪

Hermano, you need some fresh lyrics. Let me accompany for you, I'll write you something a bit more topical.

God save the Coalition, and God save Kowalski ♪

The army brass gets in bed with all our slumming millionaires ♪

On the night when the freak nightmare beast comes to play ♪

Everyone, welcome to Dossoles, and welcome to Galería Krysztauowa.

Before we get to the main course, I'd like to introduce to you all this event that marks a new age.

I'm sure not all of you are for the Galería or the opening ceremony—I'm sure a lot of you sitting there are thinking, 'this is just some forced antic by a Kazimierzian failson.'

You would probably care more for something lucrative, so I have it laid out here before you, to satisfy your curiosity and greed.

Ladies and gentlemen, please bring out your personal terminals, and raise them high in the air.

You proclaim yourselves individuals of refined and discerning taste. You keep up with the trends.

Portable terminals. An invention to stand with the greats. An escape for people from the guilt of wasted time, bringing news to every corner of every city, connecting them all together as one.

And it's on this rich future vein I'm willing to build a drilling platform in the name of art, and stuff your wallets full with the golden coins and crisp paper bills it gushes forth.

It is with great pomp and circumstance that I introduce to you this groundbreaking invention, which will soon make waves throughout the intercity net...

The Collector's Virtual Art Piece Project.

Bro, how come I've never seen you before?

What are you talking about? I live right upstairs from you!

Oh, you're that one guy, uh... Pisto?

Yeah, you got it.

Didn't you go to get treated though?

Who cares? Does getting treated give Reynell the right to storm into our neighborhood and wreck our shit?

Damn straight!

How about it? Let's head over to that gallery and throw a real party? Should we go big?

No duh we go big!

Now you're talking! We can't give a guy like that a single inch!

Collector's Virtual Art Piece? This is what you did with our capital?

Ah, think about it. Soon, some artists will cease to work in paints and brushes. They'll sit before their terminals, creating works for the intercity net that you'll be just as able to invest in.

I can take any painting in the Galería's collection, make a one-for-one copy of it on the intercity net, and you'll be able to see its every detail on your terminals, whenever you want.

No one will be able to steal or duplicate the painting. All rights to the virtual artwork will lie with you. Sell it, destroy it, it's all up to you—

—This is blasphemy against art!

What was that, I'm blaspheming against art? Look at that grizzled, big-bellied investor beside you. If you want blasphemy, well, he's the master.

You people don't care what creators conceive or convey, you just want the rights to the interpretation in your greasy grip, to easily manipulate prices against market trends.

You do the same thing, and so does your father!

When have I ever tried to claim that Szczepan Kowalski does not blaspheme against art?

I know at a glance that the man beside you eagerly agreeing with everything you say is desperate for you to beg others to blaspheme against <i>his</i> art for only a prettier penny, isn't he?

You're mad.

Is arguing with the audience part of his opening ceremony?

Look, he made a name for himself as a maverick, you can't deny that, can you? Can you, sir?

Hmph, how dull. All he knows is fiddling with his terminals.

Heh.

(Subdued) What a surprise, this bunch isn't any better. Hypocrites.

El Capitán covers the ominous glint in the corner of his eye, and puts on an expression of indifference before anyone can cotton on to him.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am about to present the very first batch of CVAPs in all of Terra.

Beneath the podium, the crowd hushes for a spell.

They've had an ample taste of Reynell's zero amenity to reason, but a man without reason is still a man, one who'd naturally want to maintain the privileged life he enjoys. Or to put it another way, he needs money too.

The issue is the difference, and the difference is that the layperson who abides by the rules makes money in ways everyone can accept, and be amicable while doing it. The unreasonable sod, meanwhile, has a nasty habit of looking down on the rest while churning their cash.

But no matter. As long as the sod still seeks money, the layperson will always find a chance to pick every last scrap of the madman's innards clean.

(Whisper) Sir, what should we do?

(Whisper) Let's see how this plays out.

(Whisper) See what collectibles he can wheel out for us.

(Whisper) The intercity net isn't enough to sustain a new field of investment, but there's a chance this madman can strike some actual treasure.

(Whisper) We've got ways to get what we want, anyhow.

These pieces brim with the kindness and hospitality and brightness and sheer beauty I've come to feel during my time in Dossoles. And so, they possess the geist of commemoration, one to forever elude comparison.

I proudly present to you all—'El Capitán Molesto'!!

How... How is this worth anything?

You're out of your mind! A rich kid with brainrot!

It's over. It's all over. There's no art salon here. Why do I paint for a living...?

Wait, bro, that virtual artpiece or whatever, that one... I think Reynell based it on you?

Me?

El Capitán stands himself up, first looking at the terminal in his hand, then at the show screen, and finally at Reynell, whose line of sight meets his.

Capitán Mateo, in light of how jolly our first meeting was, I have one more gift for you here.

You are going to be the model for the first CVAP in the entire history of Terra.

Come, pick one. I'd be glad to grant it to you, free of charge.

All eyes in the venue land on El Capitán.

He does not immediately respond to Reynell. His first order of business is one more glance at his terminal.

And finally, he sees the news he's been waiting for this entire time.

No need, Señor Reynell. You keep it for yourself.

So sorry, everyone, but I have urgent news to announce.

Who're you?

I am a representative of the Bolívaran Coalition Government in Dossoles, señor.

The latest news indicates a terrorist threat targeting the gallery is imminent. I ask you all to follow my instructions to get to safety.

Reliable information suggests that rioters are charging our location at this very moment. Do please follow the soldiers under my command to shelter in the gallery.

Vague, on the horizon, are a notable number of silhouettes seemingly charging for the Galería, apparently emerging with an indistinct jumbled chorus of singing.

Come with me, señor.

No! I need to find Candela and—

Not now. You, grab him.

Sir.

Let's go, Reynell.

Mr. Mateo, you really have furnished my opening ceremony with a tremendous surprise—

Men. I want you to haul him away, off to his favorite balcony to watch the sunrise. I'll have a talk with him later.

Oh, also, remember to make him climb the stairs himself.

Status?

We've managed to intimidate—sorry, <i>convince</i> the majority to accept our arrangements. We're relocating them to the Galería Krysztauowa interior now.

There's a few troublemakers unwilling to listen to us. You see...

Troublemakers?

Once the majority are inside, I want blades against their throats. See if they have the stomach to make trouble then.

Sir.

What about the street art people?

They'll be here in a few minutes. Our plants there have succeeded in instigating them. Now we just wait for them to reach the plaza and carry out their atrocities, and they'll substantiate the terrorist attack claim.

Dawn is coming. We need to hurry.

The gallery is just after the turn there!

Whew, I can't wait to give Reynell a shock.

I like it! We'll smash up his gallery and loot every last piece of stupid crap in there!

Huh?

What's your deal?

What...? What's my deal? Didn't we say we were gonna go big?

When I said go big, I meant we were gonna turn his gallery doorstep into our own arts festival and completely flip Reynell's opening ceremony. What was your idea of going big?

I...

Whatever, I'll go scout ahead!

Tecno!

What's up?

That guy there said he lives above me, but I'm not buying it—

Go on...

What's up?

The hawker's jaw drops wide open. He points a finger at the gallery-front plaza just a turn away.

There's a podium there, and seats, and even jackets left on those seats by the audience...

But not one person is present.

Not a one.