The wind sways the window shutters as it blows in through its gaps.
The thin door does nothing to block out the noise beyond it—clattering dishes, clinking glasses, and chattering talk peppered with curses.
Curled up on the bed, a girl sniffles, holding her teddy bear tightly.
Paulina: sob But, but Joe! Those men in white said there won't be any more bad people around the school.
Paulina: And nobody will be hungry, just like before, like with Mom and Dad.
Paulina: They'll give us candy, and soup, and real meat every week, and a big, comfy house. sniff
She raises her little hand, as if reaching out to a dream-like house.
Paulina: sniff Achoo!
J: Heh heh, cover up a little more, Polly. You're gonna catch a cold.
Her brother wipes her nose with the back of his coarse and callused hand.
J: You can't trust anything adults tell you like that. If they give us candy, or soup, or even meat, it's because they want something from you.
J: Nothing you get in this world is just given away. Least of all from people like them.
Paulina: But, but they did give me a fun job! See, now I can make straw dolls and sell them for money.
The shabby pile of dolls are stacked up on an old wooden table nearby.
J: That's 'cause they need you. Our little Paulina is one of the most cleverest kids in all of Haight Street!
Paulina: So, are they bad guys?
J: Bet on it. Only good adult I ever met is Mr. Tang.
Paulina: Hmm, okay. But Joe, what if they're not lying, then you don't have to wash dishes, or take off tires or any of that stuff.
Tang Ji: J, hey, J! Two dozen beers for our guests. Get a move on, lazy boy!
A loud voice booms through the door, his tone sharp but strangely paternal.
J: Don't overthink it, 'kay kiddo? I'm right here with you, always will be.
Paulina: Okay. But if you do leave, you have to tell me first! Because we'll always stick together! Deal?
J: Deal.
He rubs her hair before tucking her and her bear into the blanket.
J: Sleep tight, Polly.
Perfectly aligned stone columns blend into the walls.
The floor is spotless, overly tidy, even the lights above shine in exact symmetrical patterns.
It is a distant and alien world to them, nothing like the cluttered alleys and unkempt streets of home.
J: This place is Ritz'd up like a palace. Who do they think they are?
J: Who needs a floor that shines like a mirror? What, they hire a dog to lick it clean every day?
Pioneer: Oh. Philistine as ever, J. It's evident the people here must possess exceptional aesthetic taste.
J: I'm at my limit of you sucking up to them. This place is built like a fortress, a bomb shelter. Makes me feel like I've got a target on my back. Can't imagine why anyone would feel safer here.
J: You ask any artist, they'll say "clean kills the soul"! Might look clean and tidy on the outside, but inside—
He looks around absent-mindedly, failing to notice the three staff members walking in his way.
Wham—Shoulders collide, sending the small girl sprawling over.
Matilda: Oouphf! That hurt! Ergh, just what this place needs, another stupid oaf that does not know how to watch where he is going!
J: Hey, mind your manners, short stuff.
Matilda: Excuse me? D-Did you just call me short stuff?
J is clearly taking pleasure in the petite girl's annoyed outburst.
Pioneer: I apologize for my friend, Miss. He ought to mind his own manners.
Matilda: Hmph. Considering you two look as though you have just wandered in like, how do you say, "lost puppies"? I'll let it go, just this once.
Team Member I: Are you here to register as arcanists? Sorry, we're just in the middle of a shift change. Please wait a moment.
Team Member II: Isn't it Fiona's shift? She should be able to handle this on her own.
Matilda: There is work to be done, people. Quickly, vite vite!
Team Member I: Got it.
She leads the team away with swift half-stomping steps.
Fiona: H-hello! Welcome to the St. Pavlov Foundation reception center. How can I help you?
Pioneer: Hello, we're here to visit a member of your staff for, um, some private matters. If possible, we'd like to have a conversation with her in person.
The staff member's smile is visibly forced.
Fiona: Sure, please read the visitor's advisory here and fill out these forms. Ah!
The dense tower of paper tumbles out of her hands, spilling out over the floor.
Fiona: Um, so sorry, sir. Just let me pick these up.
J bends down to help her pick up the documents.
J: Relax, Miss. It's nothing, just a short visit to my sister. She's like a clerk here or something, nothing important.
J: Her name's Paulina Lesage. Just tell her that it's her brother, just popping by for a visit.
Fiona: ...
The receptionist falls silent and pale.
Fiona: Paulina Lesage ... Could you tell me your name again?
J: It's Joe. Joe Brown. You can call me J.
Fiona anxiously shifts through the scattered papers.
She looks down at the list in her hand, then up at the person in front of her, repeating the process several times—
As if confirming something with delicate care.
Then, she stands, and after regaining her composure, begins walking down the hall.
Fiona: Follow me, please.
Fiona: Ms. Paulina was one of the first people I met when I joined the Foundation. She was so talented, so incredible. It was no wonder they gave her all the big assignments.
Fiona: I could always tell she was very proud, but not in an arrogant way. She never turned her back on people. I always knew I could turn to her for advice.
They walk to the end of the corridor.
As the staff members move about their work, there is a spirit in the air, light—almost joyful—as if it were the day before a holiday.
Foundation Staff I: Haha, it's the first time that we swept Manus that badly. They even forgot the rest of their supplies in the basement. What are they gonna do without those?
Foundation Staff I: Now that we have some spare manpower to chase after them, I heard that team "Razor" started searching for the Foundation's lost assets.
Foundation Staff I: After all this time, we're finally back on the trail.
Foundation Staff II: I don't know, man. Good as it seems to be. I'm worried the news is getting out of control! Now rumors are spreading everywhere. It could get dangerous!
Foundation Staff II: Otherwise, why would we have been assigned here with Mr. Bernard to get to the bottom of this?
Foundation Staff I: Shh, zip it.
Fiona: Ahem.
The people chatting by the door take notice of the unfamiliar visitors, shifting their gaze as they make way.
J: What, you guys having a party or something? Never seen an office so ... "smiley."
Pioneer: Feels like a sales day at the mall, all those eager girls and boys running past the window. A mood like this usually comes with good news.
Fiona: Please don't pay them any mind. They're, uh, just chit-chatting, doesn't really mean anything. It might mislead you even.
She takes a key from her pocket and inserts it into the lock.
But she doesn't turn the handle. Her hand rests on it reluctantly.
Fiona: panting
Fiona: Gentlemen, come in, please.
Beams of harsh light descend from above, stretching near to far.
The space is vast and silent.
Fiona: Despite all the smiles, it hasn't been easy for us recently. Our time and resources have been stretched thin. We've suffered a lot of losses.
Fiona: It still feels a little unreal that we're still standing.
Fiona: A lot of good people sacrificed everything they had to get us where we are.
The walls are lined with transparent cabinets, each marked by a stamp-sized photo.
Next to the photos, the label numbers increase like a timer, progressing digit by digit.
The numbers grow, ticking over from tens to hundreds and further.
Fiona: Ahem. Excuse me, I suppose that's also just idle chit-chat. Maybe I don't know any more than they do.
Fiona: I only just wanted to say, since you're family, that Ms. Paulina was one of the best people I've ever met, an asset to everyone here at the Foundation.
She stops before yet another column of cabinets, no different from the many behind and in front of them.
Each one the same as every other, except for the photo.
Fiona: Gentlemen, this is where the remains of all those that died in the service of the St. Pavlov Foundation are kept in memorial.
Fiona: I'm so sorry that I have to be the one t-to tell you, but, Paulina is here, too.
There is no grave, no coffin or epitaph. Just a transparent cabinet to serve as her headstone.
A plain and ordinary box, void of any sentiment.
J: ...
J: Umm ...
J: You better know what you're saying, Miss.
He pretends not to see it, but he knows exactly what is there.
That unmistakably familiar blue ribbon.
Pioneer: I'm sorry, Fiona, dear. Would you mind giving us a moment of privacy?
Fiona: I'll be waiting outside.
Her figure grows more and more distant, receding back through the space until vanishes altogether.
...
Pioneer: J, are you going to be alright?
Pioneer: ...
Pioneer: Talk to me, J! Is there anything I can do for you? Maybe we can take a look, just to be sure.
J: No, don't-don't do anything. Damn it! Don't you fking do a damn thing!
He struggles against himself, failing to hold himself back.
J: How can all that someone is, was, be in a box like this? It's so small?!
J: This is some kind of sick joke!
Pioneer: J!
Pioneer: Easy, J. Easy.
Pioneer grips his arm tightly, staring directly at him.
The atmosphere is filled with heavy, unspoken tension.
Until J lifts his gaze to meet the mannequin's own.
Pioneer: Do you have her photo? You stay here. I'll go double-check.
With trembling hands, J pulls out the crumpled old photograph from his pocket.
Pioneer: deep breath
He holds the photograph, comparing it closely to the one on the box.
Then a strange look of astonishment washes over him.
Pioneer: J ... J!
Pioneer: ... This can't be right. Come here, J. You need to take a look at this!
J walks toward him like a zombie, and then—
J: Wait, this? What the heck?
J: This isn't Paulina?!
It is as if a light suddenly flickers on over his head.
J: So, then, what? This was all some kind of bullst?! That woman out there just decided to mess with my mind? Or did she not want us to see Paulina?
Pioneer: Maybe they got the photo wrong?
J: No, no. Look at that ring on her finger! Polly wasn't married. She couldn't be. She would have told me.
J: Unless, she just doesn't wanna see me at all. So maybe she put her friend up to all of this, but this, this just gives her away!
J: Polly said it herself: She'd rather die than stay with me and never live at all. I knew then she'd never look back.
J: Man, this was stupid! Never should've let you talk me into coming here.
Pioneer: I know that sometimes brothers and sisters don't get along. But I thought that only meant little fights, quarrels over toys. This is something much worse.
J: We're leaving. Now. Ugh, I can't stand the idea that she's just looking at me through a monitor, maybe even laughing at her pathetic loser brother. Get me out of here before I turn this place upside down!
...
Fiona: I apologize. I'm sure this loss must feel ...
J hides his face, making an exaggerated show of his tears, while Pioneer gently pats his shoulder.
J: sob Mhmm. Such heart-wrenching news. I'm crying my eyes out.
It is an oddly captivating performance. If Haight Street didn't work out, perhaps he ought to head to Hollywood.
Pioneer: Oh. But there's nothing we can do now. Sorry for bothering you. We'll be on our way out now. Let's go, J.
Propped up on one of the mannequin's shoulder, the heartbreaking act is nearly flawless.
Fiona: Please wait, gentlemen, you need to fill the visitor's log form first.
Fiona: And, let me see, this one.
She pulls out a yellowed and worn piece of paper.
Fiona: Please, sign your name here as her next of kin.
J: Consent form ... to document that I've confirmed the death of a Foundation staff member ... What is this?
He looks up with disdain, catching himself as he remembers his supposedly weeping face is dry, and buries it back down again.
J: Why do I have to sign? Don't you understand I can't take any more of this?
Fiona: I'm sorry, but please bear with me. I thought we might confirm her belongings with you. It's standard policy, though usually within the foundation. Then I could ask my superiors. Maybe they'd let you take these home.
Fiona: Here, I'll just need your name and address.
J: What? That's just sick, Miss.
His expression changes abruptly, rising up into a bitter scowl.
J: You're really asking me to sign some papers? For what? So you can hand me off some old junk and pretend this never happened? You think that's enough to get me to stop asking questions? Where is she?!?
J: Did you really think it would be this easy, sis? That I didn't care?
He grabs Pioneer and runs off without looking back.
Fiona: Sir! SIR!
Fiona: ...
Fiona: Security, stop those two gentlemen! They haven't signed the confidentiality agreement!
Before security can react, the duo have already escaped into the crowd.
J: 'Scuse me! 'Scuse me! Man, move your ass or get moved!
They dart through the bustling halls, dodging employees with cat-like grace.
Pioneer: What's going on? They're after us like we are trying to ditch a bill for dinner.
J: Told you these Foundation creeps are all the same! Soon as you don't buy what they're selling, they start trying to get you shot!
J: If she wants to cut me loose, then she can damn well say it to my face, but not like this, not this bulls**t!
They wind through the twisting corridors, until at last they find an exit and dive through.
There is a wave of uneasy commotion in the hallway as people gathered in a throng.
A tall man moves through the crowd. As he passes, the throng goes silent.
Bernard: Fiona, can you tell me what happened here?
