Part 3: A New Window

Oliver Fog: You're right, Vertin.
Oliver Fog: I do hate work. And what we're doing now is very similar to my usual work—just walking around the streets, waiting for trouble to happen.
X: Helping others makes you happy. Everyone says that, right?
Oliver Fog: Ha, I'm not falling for that. That's what those administrators who contacted me said!
X: Well, my nervous friend—
Under Oliver Fog's anxious gaze, X tosses a small metal ball.
A track appears out of thin air, and as the ball advances, a series of dominoes, matches, beakers, and a small piece of turf guide its way.
Finally, after a series of intricate processes, a thin iron rod strikes an apple high into the air from the fruit stand.
It lands squarely in X's hand.
X: Have some fruit to take the edge off. After this, we'll have a nice vacation and do some shopping.
Oliver Fog: Hey, hold on, is that the sound of someone yelling?
The exclamations are coming from down the street. X follows Oliver Fog's gaze. On the street corner, a brand new baby blue Beetle is slowly rising into the air.
And the person holding up the car is ... They are too far to be sure, but considering the number of people in the world who can lift a car like that—
X: Yes, and Mondlicht.
X: They're in trouble. We need to help them. Quickly.
Fruit Seller: Thief! Don't think you can get away! Police! Someone call the police!
Fruit Seller: The fruit seller grabs the arm with which X is holding the apple and yanks him back.
X: Sir, it's an apple. We can afford it.
Oliver Fog: X! Don't talk like that!
Oliver Fog: Yes, we were negligent, but we didn’t mean to be, sir— It's just an apple. We'll pay—double! What do you think?
Fruit Seller: Impossible! You're just a sorcerous little rat!
Fruit Seller: I saw what you did—making things appear from nowhere! If you can use them to steal, you can use them to take revenge!
Fruit Seller: You'll use them to cause mischief. Maybe you'll create an alien laser and cut off my fingers!
Fruit Seller: People like you should be in jail—
Oliver Fog: That's a bit excessive, sir!
Fruit Seller: Away with you, you scruffy little boy!
Fruit Seller: The fruit seller pushes Oliver Fog away. He hawks and spits on the ground.
X: Ah, it seems we are in an era that is not very friendly to arcanists.
Oliver Fog: ... Which era are you referring to?
Fruit Seller: Still being pulled, only half a foot able to touch the ground, X gives a slight smile.
X: I'm referring to most eras, my dear friend.
The police: We've documented the matter. Your reason for filing a report is ... for the theft of an apple, right?
Fruit Seller: Yes, yes, an apple, Officer! Oh, and to satisfy the sense of justice of a law-abiding citizen!
The police: Alright, we understand. Rest assured, we'll put these thieves away.
Fruit Seller: Thank you, officer!
X: The police totally changed their tune when they apprehended us. How interesting.
Oliver Fog: ... This is my first time wearing handcuffs.
X: Oh! It's my first time too!
Oliver Fog: No need to be modest, Mr. X. I've never met anyone more adept at wearing handcuffs than you.
The police: Hey, you little rascals! Quit the chatter and come with me.
X: Officer, we're not going to jail, are we?
The police: It's just an apple. You didn't mean it; you're dressed decently, and you even paid double the price for it.
The police: Even if you are arcanists, you won't end up in jail for this. Don't worry.
The police: All you need to do is come back with me, make a statement, and—boom! You're free.
Oliver Fog: Even if we're ...
X: I see. Thank you very much.
The police: You should be grateful, really. If this had happened even twenty years ago, you would've been sent— Oh! Joseph!
The police: Are you wrapping up too? How did things go this morning?
The police: Don't ask ... What about you? What are you doing with these people?
The police: Solving a little dispute. They just need to make a statement.
The police: Oh boy! I wish our day was that easy. Sir, you have no idea! That brown-haired girl is terrifying—I've seen bears less scary than her!
Mondlicht: …
Bunny Bunny: Huh? ... Haha, what's everyone doing here?
X: Ms. Bunny Bunny, you didn't leave with us earlier, did you?
Bunny Bunny: No, of course not. I was just out buying supplies for everyone!
Bunny Bunny: You guys and Mondlicht all rushed out like a swarm of bees. What are you up to?
Bunny Bunny: When I spotted the girl, a bunch of cops were chasing after her. Of course, I was a bit impulsive ... Next thing I knew, we were both getting nabbed. We didn't even make it 3 blocks!
Mondlicht: I left together with these three, but I lost them pretty quickly, and ... I got into trouble.
X: That's funny. We were following aliEn T and lost him too. Then we got into trouble right after.
Bunny Bunny: That's okay; we have lots of time. Sit back, relax, and—
The police: Hah, look who's back!
The squad leader returns. He is drenched in sweat, his soaked clothes sticking to his body. He looks utterly disheveled.
The squad members behind him are in a similar state—some with mud in their hair, others with twigs hanging out of their pockets. The smell of sludge and rotten fruit quickly fills the air.
Williams: …
The police: Hey, look, who's that? It's Williams. Williams! District Nine Detective Williams!
The police: Look at him, acting like he's really caught an alien. Maybe it's time he quit police work and became an actor!
It is a blatantly embarrassing situation. Williams' dirty, sweaty face promptly reddens.
Williams: It's true! It was a real alien! I was so, so close to catching it!
Williams: I just made a small mistake. I won't stay here forever. All I need is one chance, and I can return to District Nine.
Williams: And you guys! What have you been doing? Huh?! Shouting like a bunch of rowdy eighth-graders?! Just you wait. I'll be back soon. Back to District Nine. You downtown officers are just—
Williams' furious shouts don't scare anyone; they just laugh even louder.
The police: Yeah! Yeah, believe him; believe Williams! We just have to believe in the aliens he talks about and the emergency calls from his house—
The police: You poor demoted sod. You irresponsible, arrogant, self-righteous, liar! You, who cause weekly trouble with your fake photos, you want to go back to District Nine? You can't even do your job here properly!
Williams: It-it wasn't fake—
The police: Come on, we all know Jones. We know he hangs out with you, and we know he takes your pictures and calls the police for you. How much do you pay him?
Mondlicht: ... They're saying bad things, aren't they?
Bunny Bunny: Of course! They've gone too far! It's not right, Mondlicht. You should never treat anyone like this!
Mondlicht: I understand. That man smells sad, like ... slugs.
X: If you ask me, he just needs a proper Goldberg machine.
X: Not only would it easily resolve his work issues, but it would completely eliminate all these conflicts and frustrations.
Mondlicht: It can ... resolve everything? What a convenient machine.
Mondlicht: Maybe it could really help—
Oliver Fog: No, don't believe what he says about any machine.
Oliver Fog: But, I must say, being irresponsible at work is a dereliction of duty.
Oliver Fog: Although I can't say I love my job, I never neglect it.
Oliver Fog: If one is overly ambitious to the point to which they can't fulfill their duties, then one should indeed be punished.
Mondlicht: Responsibility towards work ... I understand.
Bunny Bunny: Oliver! We shouldn't instill this kind of knowledge in kids!!
Oliver Fog: Ah, no! Of course, bullying people like that isn't good! It's bad!
Oliver Fog: I just mean, he shouldn't be irresponsible at work ...
Williams: Enough! Enough! Shut up!
Oliver Fog: ... What, what now?
X: While you've been lost in your very serious discussion, their conflict has been heating up.
X: Officer Williams is now isolated and in a rage. If someone doesn't leave the scene now, chances are they'll break into a fight—watch.
Mondlicht: ... He left.
The police: Alright, time to take your information, beginning with the little girl—what's your name?
aliEn T: ... where I was spotted earlier ... I didn't think the window would still be open.
aliEn T: Although, that photographer was crazed. Of course he wouldn't remember to close it.
aliEn T: Bless the nebula! What good luck! Now all I have to do is get out of here and find a human who's alone—
aliEn T: aliEn T removes his now fully-cooled heat sink from the water glass on the table. He absent-mindedly floats around the room.
aliEn T: Once again, he finds himself in an impossible situation. He always seemed to be on the losing side of interstellar office politics, too.
aliEn T: Agh ... today is such a wormhole of a day.
aliEn T: The window before him is locked, its rusty latch clasped firmly shut.
aliEn T: He recalls how he burst into the room, and how forcefully he shut the window—it must have been then that the latch fell.
He was careless, inept at any delicate task, his mind a one-track line. And now, he has locked himself in a strange room.
aliEn T: Well, well! Nothing's going right today!
aliEn T: First Sotheby's strange drink, then that bastard T-11002.1, and now the police! It just never ends!
aliEn T: Why, why do I always manage to mess everything up?!
aliEn T: Tasks! Interpersonal relationships! Catching a human—all I have to do is open the hatch, put the human in, and close it back up again! Just three steps!
aliEn T: aliEn T slams himself against the wall in frustration. What recklessness and incompetence! Yet he cannot seem to learn from his mistakes.
aliEn T: Hey, no, don't—!
aliEn T: The studio apartment is old and worn. It can't withstand such abuse.
aliEn T: The shelf on the wall comes loose, bringing down a pile of books and CDs, burying aliEn T underneath, and kicking up a cloud of dust.
aliEn T: coughs
aliEn T: Oh, wait ... This is an "Uncle Backpack" record. The most classic one!
aliEn T: I have the exact same one on my spaceship. It's my favorite record!
aliEn T: Most of the books on the floor are covered in dust and yellowed with age. Only this album looks clean, as if it had been used frequently.
aliEn T: ... Well I'll be! Does that eccentric photographer actually have good taste?
aliEn T: aliEn T carefully surveys the apartment.
aliEn T: There are no cameras or film on any of the shelves, let alone a darkroom setup.
aliEn T: The wallpaper is molding in the corners, odds and ends clutter the table, old takeout boxes are stacked by the door, and piles of unwashed clothes lie on chairs, emitting a faint sour smell. This place is clearly not taken care of.
aliEn T: This can't be the photographer's home, but whoever lives here is pretty sloppy!
aliEn T: Oh ... but this record is a classic among classics!
aliEn T: When I was still working on the interstellar space station, it cost me half a month's salary to buy one from the investigator.
aliEn T: Oh! Look at these! I like all of these!
The room is small, but almost every inch is piled with things he likes.
aliEn T's unbridled joy temporarily overwhelms his anxiety about being trapped. He whirls around the room.
aliEn T: A blue shirt. That's a good color. Nice choice.
aliEn T: Mexican takeout ... Triple hot sauce. You're quite the gourmet!
aliEn T: The fridge is almost completely full of beer! It's just a shame that there are no quantum hops on this planet.
aliEn T: What's this? A family photo album?
aliEn T: Oh, a picture—presumably this is his wife and daughter. It's just like my family!
Several hours earlier ...
Oliver Fog: Since I have no choice but to proceed, I must declare—I did not voluntarily engage in this tracking mission!
X: Relax, friend.
X: Think of today as a "detective game."
Oliver Fog: Hey, wait—
X pulls Oliver Fog's collar, making it stand even more sharply.
X: Enjoy your work, Oliver Holmes.