The Offices of Thalia Trimble, Private Eye - vol 2

Two weeks have passed since turning Martha Bradford over to police custody. The day after that, Kate Lawson sent a crew to your home to debug the place. They also made you hand over the pager. After they finished you had Jamal do a scan and he was able to confirm that you are finally free from being spied on by Lloyd Laboratories. Even with his assurance, it is hard to shake the feeling of being watched, but the feeling decreases as the days go by.

Dylan Saunders and Emila Howard have been working with you and the witnesses on Andrew’s case. Arthur Fisher and Isabel Bell are both out on bail but are being watched by the police. They don't think either one is a flight risk, but with Ivanovich’s whereabouts unknown, the police don’t want to risk their star witnesses vanishing in the night.

Martha Bradford has kept up her end of the bargain and is cooperating. She was let go by Lloyd Laboratories, who have also pledged to assist in the investigation in whatever way they can. This largely appears to have been done for positive press. They haven’t actually turned over anything of worth at this point.

You are currently sitting next to Emilia on the couch in your living room. You both watch with confused expressions on your faces as Dylan works on the large pad of paper set up on an easel. He has drawn a birdseye view of a section of San Espero streets and continues to circle one corner at an intersection.

"Yes, Dylan, we get it--"

"Clearly, you don’t," Dylan cuts Emilia off.

She exhales in frustration and continues. "We understand that this is important, but fail to see the significance you are attaching to it."

DING! The egg timer goes off. Jamal and Cyn cheer your team’s latest failure and mark down the new total score: 10 to 2.

"I cannot believe you guys didn’t get that." Dylan smirks. "Clearly the phrase is bus stop. See, this is Thalia’s street and way over here where I circled is the nearest bus stop she has been forced to use for the last two weeks." Dylan is joined by Jamal and Cynthia in laughing.

"Brilliant, Dylan," a very unimpressed Emilia responds. "I"m glad you threw the game away for that joke." He shrugs his shoulders. "I demand a redraw because our partner is not fit to compete."

"Whatever you say, Counsellor," Jamal says through laughter. Despite the blowout loss, and Dylan poking fun at you, you are greatly relieved to see Jamal so at ease. No further news about his sister has come from Loomis and this is the most relaxed you have seen Jamal since you found out about his sister going missing.

Jamal hands you the marker and you pick up a clue from the bowl. "Get this one wrong, and you guys lose for real."

You unfold the slip of paper and read the clue: Three-toed sloth.

---

Dice Pool Limit: 5

Threat Rating
Pictionary! --- 3

"Oh, for crying out... I can't draw this," Thalia grouses. In fact, she can picture a sloth in her head, but it's just a general impression of the body. The face? Her mind's a blank about what a sloth's face should look like. But maybe the body will be good enough. If, of course... it's good enough.

She glances at her team of hapless no-talents sitting on the couch. Lawyers. Why did she get stuck with the damned lawyers?

Sighing, she gets to work. Because she is Thalia Trimble, the defender of the defenseless, the finder of creative solutions to pull out a victory when defeat is all but certain. If anyone can reverse this rout, it's her.

She makes a gentle curve for the back, down for the back leg. Three lines for claws, then on to the belly, and down for the front leg. Three more claws. A few quick, wobbly lines to indicate a tree branch, then the front and back legs in the background, dangling from the other side.

Then, the final, toughest challenge: the face. It... doesn't go well. Still, she thinks she's captured the gist of slothiness.

Emilia clinches a fist and just about leaps into the air. It is clear that the answer is on the tip of her tongue but she cannot quite get it out. Dylan has to hold back laughter at how serious Emilia is taking the friendly game of Pictionary. Jamal and Cynthia start counting down with the timer. Emilia aggressively shushes them which causes Dylan to finally burst out laughing. She ignores him and focuses as you put the final touches on the drawing. Those last few lines that complete the face. Emilia’s eyes light up with recognition. She leaps to her feet.

"THREE TOED SLOTH!" The buzzer dings just as you confirm she is right. Dylan is left staring at the drawing, completely dumbfounded.

"How did you get that from this demon looking thing?"

"Nice job," Jamal offers. "9-3. Our turn." He takes the marker from you and grabs a clue. You start the timer and he makes three quick dots and then surrounds them with a circle.

"Society!" Cynthia shouts out. Jamal turns around with a smile and points at her while nodding his head.

"WHAT!?" Your entire team says in unison.

"10-3. I do believe that makes us the winners." Jamal and Cynthia celebrate.

With the game finished, everyone scatters to refill drinks or get another slice of pizza. Jamal catches you before you can get too far. "Thanks for inviting me tonight." He rethinks it a little. "Well, for forcing me to come over tonight. I really needed this. I have to realize that it is ok to remain worried about my sister while at the same time continuing to live my life. Torturing myself isn’t going to help her at all." He laughs. "I guess you know a thing or two about torturing yourself. Glad to see those bruises are healed up. How are you holding up after everything?"

Thalia is amused by Emilia's competitive spirit and feels a little sorry that she ended up on a team with Dylan, who was clearly using the proceedings as a platform for his dry comedy, and Thalia, who just isn't very competitive when it comes to games. Maybe it's because her job involves so much contention, racing to put together clues against a villain's next move and often under life-and-death circumstances, but she definitely approaches playing games for fun in a much more philosophical and laid-back manner.

Even so, she's close to calling foul at Cyn's last guess. She's actually considering asking Jamal to submit to a scan for some sort of thought-transference tech he might be testing, but then he approaches her first in a sincere (and cheerful) frame of mind, and she discards the idea as inappropriate.

She chuckles and looks down at one of her arms. She knows he's probably referring to the ones on her face and visible just above the collar of her t-shirt, but she can't see those without a mirror. "Oh, you know, I'm actually thinking of having a tattoo artist make these permanent. That way, when I get new ones, they won't be quite so obvious."

Over the past couple of weeks, Thalia's spent a lot of time thinking about facing off with Ivanovich; specifically, about all the terrible ways that could have ended. She's actually still a bit shocked that she won the fight... and has been very quietly wondering how long it will be before her luck runs out. She hasn't raised this with any of her friends; all it would do is worry them, and she thinks it's important that she keep up the facade of unshakeable confidence and belief in her ability to overcome all challenges. Maybe she's not really a superhero, but her friends think she is, and perhaps that's where her power actually comes from.

All this introspection is inappropriate. This is, after all, a party. "Anyway, I'm glad I was able to use my considerable powers of persuasion to get you over here tonight. Life has to go on, and I'm sure we'll get an update from Marshall soon." She sighs. "Man, I have got to get another car. Dylan's stupid jokes notwithstanding, taking the bus is a real drag, not to mention unprofessional."

Finding a vehicle within Thalia's price range that meets her criteria (four doors, decent-sized trunk, decent gas mileage, nondescript paint color, etc.) has proven more difficult than she'd expected. Thanks to Kate Lawson's generous payments for the work she's done on her brother's case, Thalia's doing fine even though she's between cases, but she's also had substantial obligations - paying Dylan for his work, compensating Eddie generously for his support in the face of a situation that terrified him, and the numerous other things that had to be paid for, like replacing ruined clothes and expended munitions.

Radinka was compensated by Thalia owing her a favor. That's how some of her professional relationships work.

"Did you talk to that friend of yours, the one who buys used cars at auction?" she asks Jamal.

On the subject of monetary obligations: Dylan attempted to push that off for as long as you would let him. He tried to do the work pro bono under the argument that taking on a big scary corporate executive and correcting a wrongful imprisonment was good for his reputation. Ultimately he did finally cave and sat down with you to properly itemize the charges. Even so, you could tell he was giving you a substantial discount. Something which Eddie certainly is not doing. Any gains from Dylan were more than offset by the bill that was promptly left in your mailbox by Eddie.

You’ve only heard from Radinka once since the showdown at the biker bar. She was in good spirits but let you know she would be out of town for a while. You knew better than to ask about what business she was attending to.

Standing before you, Jamal is forced to shake his head in the negative. "Not unless you suddenly decided to expand your list of acceptable cars to include a neon green ‘85 Yugo. He did mention the police brought in a supposed time traveler" Jamal rolls his eyes at the absurdity of time travel, "whose car is supposed to be auctioned off soon that might fit the bill. The 'time traveler' apparently returned to his own time and is no longer in need of it. Is it a deal breaker if the car is powered by two top-spin dual positive singularities that produce a standard off-set Tipler sinusoid?" Even your powers cannot tell if he is joking or not. "On the bright side, once I yank out all the 'time travel' tech, I should have more than enough room to jam pack the thing with spy gear."

Thalia stares at Jamal. It's a rare thing for her to not be able to tell whether someone is joking. "If you yank out the... time travel tech... won't we still need, like, a regular engine and stuff? Or does it have all of that, and the 'time travel' stuff is just crammed in around it?"

"From the picture I saw, the time travel tech is housed in a secret compartment under the backseat. I wouldn't mind poking around at the insides of this device. My buddy actually got his hands on the transcript of the interview with the cops and I hate to admit it, but he's not talking total nonsense. See, the car isn't actually powered by singularities. I was joking about that. According to the supposed time traveler, the device creates two micro singularities in close proximity to each other in order to alter the Kerr Fields so he can create a Tipler gravity sinusoid. Once that is accomplished it is theoretically possible to adjust the field to allow for the movement of mass through the singularity and into an alternate world line. Technically not time travel, but as close to it as is scientifically possible." He looks slightly embarrassed that he is even entertaining time travel as real but it is hard to ignore his excitement. "I'm pretty sure the car still has a standard engine. After all, he isn't going to push the car through the singularity. That would be crazy."

Thalia waits a beat before saying, "Yeah... THAT would be crazy." She sighs. "Still, beggars can't be choosers. If you want a chance to get your hands on that device, have your friend bid on the car. If it turns out the thing won't actually drive, maybe we can raise funds for a real car by selling time travel tickets."

Jamal chuckles. "I’ll see what I can do. Thanks again, Thalia." He walks off to grab something to drink. You are about to join the rest of the party when there is a buzz at your intercom. You walk over and buzz for a reply to see who the unexpected caller is. You are met by the familiar gravelly voice of Marshall Loomis.

"The San Espero Dream Survey is investigating a recent spike in bizarre, unexplainable dreams. If you have been experiencing any unusual dream activity, you can help by reporting a summary." As strange as this monologue is, the words are familiar. You’ve seen them around town attached to the street poles or hung in convenient store windows. Flyers stating the above and listing a phone number for individuals to call to provide a description of their dream.

"I’ve had a break in the case. I'm almost positive she’s in San Espero, Thalia. You want to buzz me up?"

Thalia experiences a mix of emotional responses. Excitement over a break in the case, curiosity to see how the dream posters tie in with Jamal's sister's disappearance, and... disappointment that a simple evening of relaxation and fun is about to be disrupted by what might be disturbing news for her friend.

Glancing over her shoulder at the good-natured socializing in the background, she says quietly into the intercom, "You bet. I'll meet you in the hallway outside my apartment."

She buzzes Marshall up and calls over her shoulder to the others, "Hey, got a quick work thing coming up. I'll just be right outside for a minute." Then she steps out of the apartment and waits at the elevator.

When Marshall arrives, she says, "I wanted to hear what you've got before you come inside. I'm having a little game night, and Jamal's there. I need to decide if this is worth potentially ruining the first night I've seen his real smile in weeks."

Loomis meets you in the hall a minute later. You smell the reek of a chain smoker long before you see him. He gives you a tip of the hat and a gruff greeting before thrusting an accordion folder into your hands. You open it up and see dozens of copies of the dream survey flyer and one cassette tape. Already familiar with the flyer, you put them back in the folder and wait for Loomis to explain. "Take a closer look at the flyers."

Chicago Dream Survey. Davenport Dream Survey. Des Moines. Omaha. Lincoln. Denver. Grand Junction. Kingston. Las Vegas. San Espero. And many more. Flyers from dozens of cities throughout the United States. You are unfamiliar with some of the smaller cities, but it appears that Chicago is the most eastward city in the bunch. The only differences on the flyers are the city names and phone numbers. You look again at the bottom of the flyers where it lists the contact info. Some of them include, in addition to a phone number, a line reading: dreamsurvey@futel.net

"Jamal’s inside, you say? Probably best to keep him in the dark a while longer, if you ask me." Loomis looks to your office and indicates that he’d like to take the discussion inside. "After talking to a lot of people, the only connection I could find between those that went missing was talks of strange dreams and the sudden appearance of that flyer in Chicago.

"Of course I tried calling the number. It's a machine. Asks you to leave a message detailing your dream. Seemed like a dead end until I found someone who left a message and eventually got a call back. You got something I can play the tape on? I recorded my interview with the gentleman."

Frowning at the one flyer she's kept in her hand, she nods distractedly. "Sure. Hang on."

She tucks the flyer back into the accordion file and slips back into her apartment to get her keys. Cyn comes over with an open bottle of Espero Spirit, a locally brewed red ale. "Come on, now. You promised no work for this one evening," she says.

Shaking her head at the beer, Thalia says in a low voice, "Can't be helped. Marshall's outside with a break in Jamal's case. I need to sit down with him in my office. Do me a favor and keep Jamal distracted, okay? Whatever Marshall's got, he's not ready to share it with him yet."

Having received Cyn's promise to keep Jamal occupied, Thalia grabs her keys and retreats to the hallway again, opening her office and flipping on the lights. She opens a drawer in her desk and retrieves a cassette player, carrying it over to the little "living room" section of the office and popping in the cassette from the accordion file. She sits in the little armchair and gestures at the sofa. "Have a seat."

Cynthia gives you a disappointed, but understanding look and nods her head. "I sure hope he has some good news."

Over in your office, Loomis gives you a brief rundown of how he met the man on the tape. He is a fellow student and acquaintance of Jamal’s sister, Zoe. He heard Loomis was asking questions about her and reached out to Loomis.

Loomis lets you know that the student preferred to remain anonymous and then presses play on the tape. The student explains how he and Zoe had actually discussed weird dreams before and she suggested he call the dream survey number. He thought it was dumb, but decided to give it a shot after having a particularly strange dream.

They were using this unfamiliar device in the dream. It was the size of a piece of paper and only about half an inch thick. It was sort of like a portable TV with a crystal clear image. You could interact with it by touching the screen. He was using it to view a never ending list of messages written by everyday people, as well as organizations.

They were all short messages that sometimes contained pictures or videos. Some were total nonsense or updates about trivial matters like what someone had for lunch. Others appeared to provide news. A shockingly high amount were filled with hate speech. The one that caught his attention the most had a video.

The video showed a familiar face, but he couldn’t put a name to it. They were a failure of a real estate developer who was well known to be a con man. The video showed that this creepy man, with a ridiculous hair style and horrible spray on tan, had somehow managed to become President of the United States.

He was sitting at this incredibly small little baby desk and yelling at reporters who were asking legitimate questions that he didn’t want to answer, while also refusing to back up any of his clearly dubious claims with any factual evidence. At the bottom of the message was a disclaimer which read "This claim about election fraud is disputed."

At the end of the dream the student tossed away the device displaying these messages because he couldn't take anymore of this man’s nonsensical ramblings.

About a month later, the student received a call back. The person on the other end of the line was very personable and invited him to a local meeting with others who had similar dreams to his. Zoe had gone missing at this point, and he felt like this felt shady. Against his better judgement he decided to go to the meeting in case he could find anything that might help lead to being able to find Zoe.

At the meeting, he was surprised to find another student he knew. Ben. One by one, the leader of the meeting had everyone introduce themselves and go over the dream they shared with the hotline. They then discussed possible interpretations of the dreams. All the while, the meeting leader took pages upon pages of notes.

As they were ready to leave, the leader stopped Ben and asked if they could speak to him in private. The student waited in the parking lot to make sure Ben wasn't getting abducted or something. Ben came out about 10 minutes later, much to their relief. Ben said he was invited to another meeting to take place in a week.

The student thought the whole thing was dumb, but Ben seemed really into it. They were planning on going. Ben hasn’t been back on campus since.

Out of the blue, Ben called the student a few days ago. They said they were in San Espero and had quit the dream group. He told the student to take down any flyers they found and warn people against calling the number.

The tape ends and Loomis speaks up. "Ben is still in town. They didn’t want to talk in detail over the phone. I’m meeting with them tomorrow. I thought you might want to tag along."

Thalia listens intently to the interview, particularly when the anonymous student describes the content of his "weird dream." She frowns and smirks at the description of the strange device - a tv screen you can hold in your hands and interact with via touching the screen, yeah, right - and outright chuckles at the revelation of the con man with stupid hair becoming president.

When the tape is over and Marshall tells her about the meeting tomorrow with Ben, Thalia doesn't hesitate. "Hell yes, I'm in. Hey, did your anonymous student happen to mention anything after the interview about how Ben might have differed from anyone else? Like, a different kind of dream, or they were more vocal, or less vocal, than others at the meeting? I'm just curious why they would have singled them out like that."

And as she thinks about it more, she muses, "You know, I've had weird dreams before. They usually involve things that seem logical in the dream but insane after you wake up, like opening a door to a room and it turns out you're on a plane and you jump out and deploy the parachute you didn't realize you were wearing. It's not usually something so... slice-of-life, with futuristic tech used for really banal purposes. I wonder what the other 'weird dreams' were like."

"We talked about that kind of thing the first time I met him. Before he agreed to the recorder. He said all the dreams recited at the meeting had that same general theme. Technology or trivial changes from the waking world that were, in the grand scheme, not that different than the real world. Not exactly what I was expecting the organizers to be interested in from the flyers, but maybe there is some subtext we are missing. I am certainly no dream expert.

"The kid couldn’t seem to remember very many specifics of the dreams that the other meeting attendees spoke of." Loomis knows that you are familiar with the frustration of only having one lead and they end up barely being a help at all. All private eyes dread that kind of witness.

"I know both of us have had dreams much weirder than what this kid talked about. I even called the number and left full details on a full of them. They don’t seem to be interested in talking to me though." He stands to exit. Old bones creak and joints pop. It is obvious Loomis is having a bit of trouble just getting to his feet. You know he is the type that never even thinks about retiring though. "I’ll leave the folder with you. They gave me this little POS import for a rental. I said full size but they never listen. You mind picking me up in the morning?"

After you fill him in on the status of your car, Loomis will head off to his hotel. The meeting with Ben is scheduled for 9 a.m. at a coffee place inside the airport. "I suggest we get there early. It looks to me like this guy is planning on taking a trip as soon as he finishes with us. Let’s make sure it isn’t before."

Thalia arranges to meet Marshall at his hotel in the morning at 7 a.m., then returns to the party. No one questions her about the absence, because they all know that her job often requires odd hours and spur-of-the-moment meetings.

The next morning comes far too early, especially since she's stopping to pick up pastries and coffee before arriving at Marshall's hotel. She holds up the bag and hands him one of the cups, then accompanies him to his cramped rental. Well, not too cramped for someone her size, but she sure wouldn't want to run a stakeout with it. It's hard enough to eat a cinnamon roll in the thing.

They arrive at the airport around 7:55, well in advance of the planned meeting time with the mysterious Ben.

On the way into the airport Loomis points out a dream survey flyer is taped to the sliding glass door. A small difference catches your attention. Above the phone number is written: @futelco. You point it out to Loomis and get a raise of the eyebrow from him. "That’s new." The two of you continue on to the coffee shop.

"I noticed something similar on some of the other flyers. I don’t know what it means. It wasn’t on the flyers out in Chicago, but the further west I got the more frequently I would see it. Maybe it has something to do with the meetings. A way of telling those in the know where to meet at?"

Ben arrives about 20 minutes early. He spots the two of you immediately and takes a seat at your table. "You guys stand out like a couple of sore thumbs," he says with a small smirk. Ben isn’t exactly inconspicuous himself. The ballcap and unseasonable baggy hoodie make him look like someone trying to hide their face.

Despite this, he does not seem to be in distress. He is fairly casual and relaxed. He gives you a questioning look. "You didn’t mention you were bringing a friend, Marshall. No matter. What do you guys want to know?"

Thalia introduces herself and says, "Marshall here told me a little about this 'dream group' that you were part of for a while. I understand that you went to a second meeting, after that initial introductory one. I was hoping you could tell us more about the group. What sort of things do they do at the meetings? What do they seem to want from the people they recruit?

"For example, I've heard that you quit school after you got involved with them, and it seems like now that you've quit the group, you're trying to stay under their radar. So why is that?"

Ben smiles. "Red Pills. That is what the ‘dream group,’ as you have put it, is called. The name is taken from a movie someone who called the hotline saw in a dream. Lots of kung fu and slow motion. Real dystopian nightmare of man vs machines. The Red Pills are supposed to be the ones that have their eyes opened to reality. Just like in the movie, we refer to people like you guys as Blue Pills. People who have no idea that the world is a lie.

"I think I gave you guys the wrong idea. I’m not hiding from the Red Pills. I love those guys." Up until now, Ben has been talking at a normal volume and in a friendly tone. Suddenly he hunches over and lowers his voice. "I’m hiding from the guy in the hat. We don't know who he is, but he caught wind of us and does not like what we’re doing. The only reason I don’t want more people getting involved is because of him. I’m running so I don’t accidentally lead him back to the group."

Ben visibly relaxes as he brings things back to your other questions. "The public meetings are nothing special. People that call in and have a dream that might be relevant get invited and evaluated. It’s all about finding the people with the right dreams. The ones that are connected to reality. Those are the people that get invited to become Red Pills."

Loomis puts down his pen and leans back in his seat. He gives you a look that makes it clear that he thinks Ben is out of his mind. It is pretty easy for Ben to pick up on this, but he doesn’t seem to mind. This whole time Ben has been speaking to you, rather than Marshall. Ben is barely paying him any attention.

The longer Ben talks, the more Thalia's heart sinks. Great, just great. Their one actual lead in trying to find Jamal's sister turns out to be a raving loon.

Something he says gives her a sense of eerie familiarity, though nothing specific. It's a little like a déjà vu, only with the actual trigger hidden behind a thick black curtain. She thinks it's caused by the mention of the guy in a hat, but she has no idea why. Realizing that she's frowning, she shakes her head slightly to refocus her attention on the rest of what Ben is telling them.

Or rather, telling her. Ben seems to only be addressing Thalia, for some reason.

Clearing her throat, she ignores Marshall's response, or lack of it, and continues the interview. "Okay, so these 'Red Pills' are the people who are 'connected to reality,' and there's some guy in a hat trying to stop what they're - you're - doing. What is that, actually? What are you and the other Red Pills doing, and why does he need to stop it?

"And what do you mean by 'eyes opened to reality,' anyway? You say the test of that is having a certain kind of dream, and if you call and describe a dream that meets those criteria, you get invited to join. I have to admit, I really am curious what you know about reality that I don't."