story_mantra_1_1

Remember: All we do is to preserve the honor and purity of Ursus. Even if we are not on the battlefield, we are always at war.

To ponder, to judge, to question. That is the road to desertion.

You shall listen, observe, and record accurate notes. That is all.

Logic dictates that I should like my job, or at least be proud of it, but I don't feel anything about it either way.

The man who was on this same detail before me was called in for questioning after he accidentally sighed into a hot mic. I don't know where he is now, and I don't much care.

Still, I have to thank him. His failure showed me what not to do each time I walk into this room.

I'm in position.

Roger that.

What has the target being doing today?

Same as before. She hasn't left her apartment.

At 03:10 AM, Visitor 05 delivered food, water, and a med kit, and departed empty-handed twenty-seven minutes later.

There were no other visitors today.

Okay.

I pick up the notebook on my desk and scribble a note in my log: 'No abnormalities detected.'

Hello?

Is something wrong?

Just who are we surveilling, anyway? Do you know?

It's common for agents assigned to surveillance duty to not know the target's identity. The point is to keep them from seeing their target as an actual person.

I, of course, do not break from that practice.

To be honest, after observing her these past few days, I don't think she's worth surveilling. When she removed her headscarf, she looked about as old as my grandmother.

She hasn't even left her apartment. She's like any other old lady who has trouble getting around. She even needs someone to help her do her shopping. How could she possibly be capable of sheltering the Infected?

She hasn't even said a single word! Sometimes she uses sign language, but it's only to communicate with patients. What possible harm could she being doing to society?

As far as I know, we're not here to make judgments.

If there aren't any abnormalities here, I'm going to sign off. Third Bureau—Intelligence Collection Office, Room 301. End of transmission.

Hey—

After turning off the speaker, I flip back through my notebook to the page on Visitor 05.

Visitor 05 is a Sargonian who hails from the same town as the target and is, in fact, her most loyal patient, occasionally serving as her assistant.

Visitor 05 has been one of the target's most frequent non-infected visitors while she's been in Ursus.

After putting on a pair of headphones (each ear plugged into different devices), I call up the audio file from 3:00 AM to 4:00 AM and start reviewing today's work.

...3:11 AM, Visitor 05 enters the apartment.

Madam.

(Nods)

The target says nothing. I hear a sound of rustling hair.

How are you feeling today?

(Shakes head)

Hair-friction sounds at varying frequencies.

Ah. I keep forgetting that I'm the one who's sick. Well, at least I don't have Oripathy...

Plus, I already feel much better, thanks to you.

Oh, and here's three days' worth of supplies. And that herbal pillow you talked about last time? I got someone to collect the herbs and make it.

I know that people are going to start visiting you at 7:00 AM. Do you want me to stick around and help?

(Shakes head)

(Sign language)

Rustling garments. The sound of moving limbs. From context, I can deduce that the target has signed: 'No thank you. I don't need help.'

Polite as ever. Well, I'll just sit here for a while then. Will you join me?

Ten minutes. I'll sit here for just ten minutes.

(Nods)

Breathing sounds. Boiling water. Sound of someone pouring tea.

Footsteps, a door opening and closing.

Visitor 05 remains at target's apartment until 3:37 AM.

The time is now...

6:55 AM.

Only ambient background noise is detected in target's room; there are no indications of activity.

There are knocks at the door. Two heavy, one light.

The target says nothing. The door opens. Various footsteps, both heavy and light.

It sounds like the visitor is limping.

*sigh*...

This visitor always begins with a sigh, arrives earlier than expected, and has a leg injury. This one has already been recorded in the log as Visitor 74.

This aching leg. Every time I leave you, it gets worse again.

If I press my on leg through the cloth the way you showed me, it gets a little better for a while. But as soon as I have to go out and work, it gets worse.

Think of another solution, will you?

(Shakes head)

Please! I'm begging you!

(Sign language)

The sound of moving limbs. Based on the visitor's subsequent reply, I can assume the target has signed, 'Let me take a look.'

It's here, the same old spot. The swelling is getting worse...

Is there... no way to treat my leg?

(Shakes head)

(Sign language)

It's hard to guess what the target is saying here.

Hot! Hot!

I only put it on after my hands were red and burning—

(Sign language)

The sound of vigorous movement. Subsequent context lets us presume this is the sound of someone correcting the way the treatment is applied.

Ah... Ahhh...

Oh, so I need a cold compress? But it's summer. Where am I gonna find ice?

Rustling garments. The sound of something being removed from a plastic container. Rustling garments.

What's this?

(Sign language)

We can presume she signed, 'This is for you.'

What is it? Medicine?

You have pain medicine?

But I... I can't afford it...

(Shakes head)

Th-Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you so much!

Rustling garments. Various footsteps, both heavy and light. Many quiet, garbled 'Thank you's.

The door opens and closes.

Visitor 74 leaves target's apartment at 7:11 AM.

Visitor 74, Visitor 12, Visitor 45, Visitor 07...

Her patients stick around, and she sees them at pretty regular intervals. New patients are rare. They usually show up because someone introduces her to them.

Hmm?

The door opens. Hurried footsteps. The new visitor is wearing hard-heeled leather shoes.

The footsteps stop. No one says a word.

Rustling garments. It sounds like two people are moving, but no one says a word.

The silence continues for twenty-seven minutes. The only sounds that can be heard are the sounds of limbs moving and rustling garments.

We can deduce that they are using sign language to communicate, though we do not know why.

The sound of plastic bag opening. Footsteps of leather shoes. A door opening and closing.

The person we suspect to be a new visitor leaves the target's apartment at 1:06 PM.

Based on past logs, the target takes her daily break at 1:00 PM.

Non-infected... non-infected... they're all non-infected.

It's been over two months since we increased the surveillance on her, yet the target has only interacted with non-infected.

It's very easy to make a marginalized person living in the slums with no family or friends disappear. It is hard to use said person to lure out the Infected.

We only need one...

And I can finish the job.

Hello. Do you read me?

I'm here.

The new visitor who arrived at the target's apartment around 12:40 is a noble who traveled here from Deity Grypherburg.

She entered the building wearing a disguise and left at about the same time that's you recorded in your log.

Your deductions were correct; she used sign language the entire time. I have transcribed and translated the conversation. You can go to the records room to get a copy of the transcript.

You aren't the one who was talking to me this morning.

I don't know what you mean. I'm the one who is talking to you now.

Is there anything else I need to know?

Not at the moment.

Roger. I'll be online.

The visitor has her back to the surveillance team and is wearing a hat.

(Sign language)

Here, the target says, 'Please remove your hat. It's safe here.'

The visitor turns around, surveys the room, and removes the hat. The visitor and the target, move to a different place, giving the surveillance team a clearer view of their movements.

(Sign language)

The visitor says, 'I can't take it anymore.'

The rest of the transcript contains only translated sign language, verbatim.

I can't take it anymore!

There are eyes everywhere! They're always watching me!

I have no place where I can rest. Even when I lie down next to my husband at night, I just lay there, eyes open, until the sun comes up!

I have no idea who's been sending wave after wave of their minions here. The new butler even knows the name of my favorite childhood cloudbeast!

Even the panhandlers know where I go and what I like. It's so creepy!

That butler... perhaps it's his job to know those sorts of details.

Easy for you to say. You will never understand what it feels like to be constantly watched.

At least we are safe for the time being, ****.

The visitor's name has been redacted.

You can tell me how you're feeling, and I'll hear you out.

How do you know my name?!

Your husband told me. He thinks I'll be able to calm your mind, so you won't be so anxious all the time, so you won't feel like there are hidden eyes and ears trained on you at every moment.

I will not speak. I will not say a word to anyone, no matter who.

That's just how I feel about this country. I cannot trust anyone here, including him, including you.

So I think we should just continue 'communicating' like this.

The visitor then starts complaining about the omnipresent surveillance, the war, and the plight of the poor. During this exchange, the target soothes the visitor, offering some comfort, before politely sending them on their way.

Are you still there?

It appears that the target is still asleep. What do you need?

I forgot to record the first visitor who arrived at the apartment today. Do you remember who it was?

Visitor 05; arrived at 3:11 AM. Any other questions?

No. Thanks.

3:11, not 3:10. His info was sourced from my records, not his predecessor's.

One minute... a problem... or a sigh.

I hope I'm overthinking this. I need to quickly obtain definitive proof that the target has come into contact with an Infected, or...

...At least produce some tangible results.

Madam?

(Shakes head)

I just heard...

I'm in position.

Roger that.

You're ten minutes late.

I have a legitimate reason. I had to go to the thirteenth floor to turn in a report. When I came back out to the elevator, it was under maintenance. I had to take the stairs.

Hmph. That old elevator is always under maintenance.

So, have you found anything?

I submitted a full report on our surveillance of the target. I included a copy of the log from Visitor 97's visit.

The Visitor 97 thing was all thanks to you.

You're going to snitch on that noble already? You really are impatient.

All we do is to preserve the honor and purity of Ursus.

—Right. For Ursus.

For Ursus.

What I do not tell him is, as long as the higher-ups on the thirteenth floor are willing to take five minutes to review the report, they'll all come to the same conclusion...

The same conclusion reached by each and every individual that has served in my position:

The target poses no danger, so we can reduce both her threat level and her surveillance level.

If they really can't figure it out, so be it. At least my report on the venerable Visitor 97 will give me a tangible result to show for my recent work.

It might buy me some more time.... maybe.

The target is alone. Visitor 05 left an hour ago.

There are no footsteps, nor sounds of the door opening or closing. However, without warning, humming sounds, of various frequencies, begin to resonate continuously throughout the room.

I'm not sure what I'm hearing.

What's that?

Uhh... what's that noise...?

Bzzz... bzzz...

(Noise)

Hey!

Damn! Lost connection!

The sound comes and goes, intermittently.

She might be sending some sort of signal. I'll use the spectrum analyzer!

I'll use this microphone, right. I've gotta convert it into an electronic signal. There's the receiver—

Now, to analyze the code!

Aha. It's a military identification code.

I must decipher this message before the noise stops. I have to do it!

'Sul...li...van'

A name, huh? One of the Infected, maybe?

I'm so tired that I don't even realize that it's also MY name...

Until...

'You're also...'

'...being...'

'Sullivan, you're also being listened to.'

The sentence hits my mind like a lightning bolt. It arrives without warning, as if—

As if someone is right here, speaking to me.

The one who is listening in on others... is also being listened to.

Words cannot describe how I feel when that thought dawns on me. That damned thing isn't important. What's important is that—

The sound stops. The speaker returns to dead silence.

I think about the elevator 'under maintenance,' and how there were more Gendarmerie than normal at the entrance to the stairwell.

This is just the worst kind of horror story.

Shit.... shit, shit, shit!!!

Deserter—

—surround him—

Take him down, and then send the second team to catch that damned doctor.

Move out.

They didn't even lower their voices. It appears Ursus's patience has run out.

But I cannot be 'disappeared.' I cannot meet the same fate as all those who sat in this chair before me. I cannot end up like the woman whose voice echoed from the speaker.

I'm more familiar with this place than I am with my sixty chervontsy a week studio apartment. I know how to leave this place without going through the front door.

—Sullivan Smirnov.

About that report you submitted today... we need you to tell us—

Whoever comes will only hear a sound that cuts off abruptly.

I'm running madly through the streets.

I don't even realize that it's gotten dark out. Our office has no windows, only a narrow row of ventilation shafts, but they're wide enough for an adult male to crawl through.

I land in the alley, but I don't know where to go next. I'm sure that coffin—I mean—studio apartment, has already been locked up. I can run for a bit, but I'll be captured. If I don't run, I'll also be captured.

But so what? Why is she telling me about this? Does this mean she knew she was being listened to, being watched, the entire time, just like that paranoid woman who visited her?

Also, who is this voice speaking to me?

With these questions in mind, I rush to the address that's burned into my memory.

Phew—

Phew...

Forget this. I should run. The Gendarmerie are already—

The dilapidated apartment, which was once filled with sound, is now silent, save for the echo of my words.

The doctor has already made it across the Leithanian border.

She single-handedly moved nearly a hundred Infected out of Ursus and provided shelter for those who couldn't leave. She's quite impressive.

By the time we arrived there, Ursus had already turned its attention to her.

It seems like we intervened just in time.

Yes.

Ursus was a special case, but the methods she used to help the Infected are still instructive for our future operations.

The report is on your desk, Madam.

Thank you for all your hard work, Mantra.

(Nods humbly)

You must be tired after spending so much time undercover.

Dr. Kal'tsit helped me before. Now I wish to repay her kindness.

Besides, I was just 'listening' to her. I did not really have to go undercover.

This is your story. I understand. However, I hope that one day you can call Babel your home.

Madam—

Ah. I've gone off topic again.

Go, take a rest, Mantra. I'm sorry that we can't give you even more time to recover.

There are still voices all over the world that we need to listen to.

I'm sure you've also heard the cries for help.

(Nods)

Yes. I've heard them.