Why is the universe spinning? We are looking through the gate of a double slot experiment, and we are seeing it all move, like it is not just pictures strung together in a stroboscopic flow, like a zoetrope. Built around zootrophy. Rings within rings, circles within circles. A downward spiral into the heart of the galaxy.

Rings upon rings. The rotary phone is vibrating. He picks it up.

‘This seems like a prop, an anachronism, so I am wondering if this just another Adjunct I have woken up in.’

‘Does it matter, Zoe? Play the level, isn’t that always the rule?’

‘Sure, but just so you know – if I know whether or not I’ve gone immersive, or if this is something where I have to worry about real life physics and shit, it changes the whole game.’

‘So, School Girl Assassins always gave you the data you needed up front? You weren’t ever dropped into an improvisation scenario?’

‘Sure. Look, I trained with Sisters Of Jenny Fred, Fred Heads, Skull Pirates, whatever under the radar group you can think of, and all of them threw dirt in the mix – that isn’t a problem.’

‘Good, so get to it.’

‘Yes, Coracle, understood.’

She was runny across a jelly floor, so she figured that he target had a bad back. Stutter-Slices in the corridor running interrogatory protocols to strip data from her were old hat. And really? Someone had fucking laser lattices? This was amateur half hour. She was sprinting now, all her sensors digging through the house for the most heavily armoured room.

If she had a normal shoulder that had not been reinforced for just the job she was using it for, she would have broken it against the door. It buckled on about the third try, and then she affixed a plastic explosive charge where there was a gap between the door and the frame. It blew.

And what was there inside? A preservation tank with an intact head inside it, and a legend on the tank that read Peyton Doors.What a weird jackpot to hit.