Part 13 of Alexander's Accounts, continuing from a day spent out and a night spent in

And i woke up.

Out of boredom, i turned on the TV.

News. The southern gang was yet again at it, doing raids. Long monologues in Northern Spanish about how horrible it all was and how humans were supposed to have the same rights as werewolves, dubbed-interpreter rants about how humans were clearly inferior.

But they never raided the hospitals, a silent agreement between werewolfkind and humankind, a "you save me from death and you won't die" kind of agreement.

So i watched the gang doing its horrible things to humanity.

Artemis had stirred. "Fuck, look what we escaped", he said.

"But Cubit and Biblia haven't", i noted. "Someone should go check on them"

"They'll probably be fine", said Artemis. "Remember the fact they're in a fort."

But thoughts rushed through my head. Killing people was not on. Manslaughter was not nice. I'd already done enough back on earth when i got into that accident.

"And what if they pump in killing gas through the vent holes? And what if the go inside and kill people through the ceiling? What if there are still booby traps???", i asked.

"Don't worry, I've had it all figured out", said Artemis. "Thank god we've got the north government backing us now"

"What...?!"

"You'll see", said Artemis. "i don't want to fill you up with too much poor decision anger"

What…? Go on, tell me.

"Communication is vital"

“Too long to explain", he said.

I shrugged. “Let's go visit then, talk whilst we walk."

Across town, cold, little bit of snow on the ground from last night. Sinking away.

Signs, trilingual, bilingual, and if monolingual, in the language which was anything but monolinguisticallylexiconical.

Artemis translated each. Herricane addiction PSAs, insurance against failed grants, reminders of some obscure government policy, and the frequent message to “Otalichar! Otalicha, otaliche, otalitchemos, otalitchad, y otalichen", meaning something like Difference is important to a functioning society", followed by all the valid Spanish imperative forms.

“I like it here", i said. “Languages and streets safe for me."

He mumbled an affirmative response.

And he pointed in some direction. And we walked to it, past increasingly old streets.

The oldest town square, right here.

Green clouds of leaves bound by branches attached to the ground surrounded the square, a patchwork of brick, hemmed in by teetering stone buildings.

“Mulumu Square", said Artemis. “Unknown etymology, loaned from a local gang which fell apart, used to replace a colonial name."

The True Vigilantes. Had they a subsidiary?

“Not much, just the regular gang", he shrugged. “Criminal activities here and there, the occasional hostage killed… nothing that relies on government bounties."

I smiled. It was a relief, somehow.

A couple walked ahead of us. Fairly regular heterosexual same-species couple.

A couple left a shop. Fairly regular heterosexual heterospecies couple.

And we relished in the air of the north. A chilly bite remained, a cold sun beaming down.

“We're in place", i noted. “Back south i'd've felt wrong for being in love with you."

“Yeah", said Artemis. And then he picked up on a noise, i could see it in the newfound focus of his eyes.

Down there, just into a street leading into the square; an altercation. “Out!" screamed someone. “I'm the manager and you're fired! Out!"

English. Weird. American accent, southern, possibly rural.

And i saw who were leaving. They all had the same shade of skin. They all had been singled out.

Artemis peered. “Are they…. hating each other?"

“Well… probably."

Fuck, i mis-spoke in the earlier parts. I hadn't seen enough, hadn't learnt enough. And i made a judgement on humans in the werewolf world, that they all would be willing to drop their tribalism, a us-vs-them. No. They expressed it to werewolves in the south, sometimes. But here, that was against the law.

They discriminated for smaller things, a genetic difference in melanin, a change of little importance in the grand scheme yet of big importance in the brain scheme. And that pissed me off.

And i watched, stepped back a second mentally. Did i just assume racism? For an accent?

“Or maybe not…?"

“Let's go knock some sense into them", said Artemis.

No.

“Let's check first", he said.

But he stormed down across the square, towards the building. I half-ran behind him, trying to catch him.

And he knocked heavily on the door. No. And he saw the man. “Why did those people leave?"

“Well…", said the man. He was heavy-built, a face of wrinkles. Unkind wrinkles. A stern expression. He was under the sign for the building, the sign for an earthen foods grocery store. Milk, somehow. ¤30.

“I just don't like 'em. They ran gangs back where i lived."

That's a misconception, mr bigot.

“Never heard of that happening.", i said. “Back where i lived gangs were formed of young adults thinking they were cool."

He stared at me. “I hear your accent, posh boy. Don't y'dare tell me that y'all have the same gangs as us."

Breaking news: loitering youth a “nuisance" according to US Police, rang a headline i read ages ago.

I shrugged. “Yeah, ours are worse. You have loitering youth and we have knife-wielding look-at-us youth."

He scowled.

“Hey, where i live now there's even the 'KILL KILL KILL ALL HUMANS' youth going around dropping little drops of perhaps the worst acid in this realm", i said.

Artemis was being intimidating. He'd be my bodyguard,

And the man found his answer. “The thing about you egalitarians is that… you just don't seem to be that open-minded. I have good reason to hate them, but all you have is having had broken the purity of the human AND werewolvian species", he said. Maybe it. No, that applied to human-hating werewolves only. Well, maybe it, after all.

And the door was slammed, locked.

What is he doing in the werewolf world if he's against werewolf significant others?

“They'd've gone to the police", said Artemis. “And they'd've gotten a grant and the anti-racists will come in", he said.

“Wishful thinking", i said. “We're not in a human-first world."

“Erm…", said Artemis. “Look at the sign."

An old plaque. Spanish. English. Northern Spanish on a newer slice of metal, the top of a sandwich of metal plaques atop each other. Lexical change.

Northern Manifesto Y50

And in the name of the Spanish Empire,
We establish a city clean of discrimination, of equality
A city where life is merely “ask and you shall recieve"
For as all humanoids remain same in the head;
They shall remain same in society

A modernistic note on the bottom. References to laws and hotlines, a plastic tag. The unstained border on the otherwise-grey stone around it betrayed its modernity.

“That was their dream", said Artemis. “And they built the country around it."

The police had arrived. Quickly, it turns out. I didn't care. They knocked on the door.

“What's the catch?", i asked.

“Well, see the cracks in the façades?", said Artemis. “See the clean blue uniforms?"

I looked to the building. Cracks, stained stone, cracks in the pavement tiles. “mmh-mmh"

“Police", said one of the uniformed werewolves. “6 accounts of unfair employee discrimination."

And they knocked on the door again.

A second. “Open the door", they shouted.

And the police knocked down the door, somehow.

Shouting, screaming, person dragged out.

Demands of a bribe. None given. Into the van, out to the police station.

“Tough", i said.

“Deserved", Artemis said. “And the business'll be ransacked, money put into government, put onto free market, more money as others buy, possibly through subsidy. Still, net profit."

So we walked.

We walked past increasingly modern houses, leaving the older square.

And we reached a government building. Clean, fresh. None of the street shit, no cracked tiles.

And we walked in.

“Who was the police of the service station yeterday?", asked Artemis.

The clerk blinked several times. “How come?"

A clerk, a fairly typical stereotypical one, old wiry werewolf, white hairs… what could be called a mustache? Glasses.

“We've been offered some specific government money", i said. “And i'd like to claim it."

“Really?", asked the clerk.

“Conspiracy against the south", said Artemis. “They said they'd sponsor us."

“Hmm", mused the clerk. And he looked into his computer. There are Apple devices here?! How do they even have internet?!

“Well, he's off-shift here, if you want to talk.", he said.

“Which room?", asked Artemis.

“S8", said the clerk.

And we moved there, to sit down, a police officer, the same one we saw in the service station. He was sipping on a coffee.

Coffee is prohibitively expensive here, though?

“Ah, hello Artemis", said the blue-shirt as he de-reclined and regained his professional air. “So, you come requesting the… documents for the grants"

“Yeah", said Artemis. “Clerk told you?"

“Our IT systems are quite advanced", said the blue-shirt. “One of the advantages from being in the more prosperous parts of the country."

No. Outside there is way too much disrepair for this to be a “prosperous" part.

“Well… just sign here and you can have a card from the north to give you the money you need.", he said. “Credit card except when you justify by letter you needn't pay back."

“Interesting", said Artemis. “I'd prefer a chequebook, though."

“I can give you both", said the blue-shirt. “Pre-justified are any property purchases, basic need purchases including food and medicine, anything which undermines the legitimacy or power of the southern government, but no government-sponsored utilities."

“So, both of you sign, you'll be one of our secret diplomats", said the blue-shirt. “Responsibilities highlighted in page 13 to 15. Two copies of the document, one for our reference, one for yours."

“Sweet", i said. The pen was not some cheap Bic Crystal… it felt heavy, dense, correct. Twisting the top to reveal the writing part was well-tuned.

And the pen handled well to reveal a twisted Alexander, cursive. “I want to keep this pen.", i joked.

The policeman shrugged. “Eh, they're only ¤100, we have hundreds of them, keep it."

I handed it to Artemis. He didn't look so eager. “It says here… we need an undying loyalty… and governments change"

The policeman sharpened. “Well, obviously, but we only change for the better :)"

And Artemis sharpened too. “I'm skeptical", he said.

And the policeman handwrote, in some kind of calligraphic script. “And the signatories reserve the right, to at no extra cost beyond that of the debt, to revoke their contracts"

“There", said the policeman.

And Artemis, with a little pain in his expression, signed.

“Done!", exclaimed the policeman.

And the chequebook and credit card happened across the table, into our hands. And i smiled. 200 pages, plenty to get what we need.

But i paused in the hallway. Voices from S8. "What have you stopped for?!", asked Artemis.

"Shh", i said.

And i could barely hear. But they were there. Two voices.

"And you expect that the grant will allow you to more effectively pay taxes?", asked a voice.

"Of course", said another.

"Well... Are you sure our taxes are even that damaging?"

"Of course."

Artemis was getting impatient at me sitting here, doing little. "Let's go..!"

"Shhh", i said.

"Well, we can help supplement their pay..", said a voice. Maybe female werewolvian.

"Nice", said the he.

"Or we can help you skirt the regulations so we don't need to use the money the government barely has", said the she.

That was literally a lie. The policeman showed me!

"Artemis has grabbed my hand. He was pulling. Eh, evesdropping felt wrong, so i let him.

And we left the sterile cleanliness of the government office, onto the cracked pavement, the road of a handful pothole.

We were not in a rich country. And it wasn't because of the southern government.

In the hotel room. TV on.

And we watched. The True Vigilantes were at it again. It was becoming less and less of news.

No, what they felt they wanted to show was the graph. Numbers. Numbers which controlled everything, numbers which i hadn't escaped. And the numbers were going down. Humans and money went down together. Werewolfkind grew a little.

And a poll, distilled into a pie chart, cut into uneven slices. One quarter of a pie has a line crossing over a red human face. A different quarter had a green human face and a tick. The half, though, was a werewolf face with a question mark.

The opinion on humans as seen by werewolves.

A full circle. Green human face.

The opinion on humns as seen by werewolves.

Value of a human life. A simple number. Once ¤1000. Then ¤500. Now ¤400. Government-set.

“Artemis, do we really need to start a housing crisis?"

“Power is good", he said. “And i'd like more. Imagine that; a werewolf-human coalition quietly controlling the realm."

I nodded. “Well, i still think it's a violation of democracy."

“Hey, it's a violation of democracy to knowingly kill voters", said Artemis. “Better a devil you control than one you don't."

“But nobody else controls it."

He shrugged, and pulled me closer to him.

I continued watching.

A new plan, suggested by a matted-with-blood member of the true vigilantes. The green human face slice was cut in quarter.

And the other pie? Cut in half. Cut some more.

They had found something new, they said, something to help ensure werewolfkind remained pure. A vial, found in a biomedical factory.

Into the water, they said. One week and itching turns to lobotomoised humans.

And a former fort, they said. “Impenetrable". Lockpicking-resistant doors and a pretty damn pro-human street.

That, they said, was going to be their new core of operations, if they could take it from the two humans inside.

So, an offer; the fort or the vial.

But impenetrable from the outside, designed even against southern police, back when humans were a little less taboo.

“Maybe i should go there" said Artemis. “All three of them alone, in the flat."

“Let's sleep", i said. “And mull this over in the morning."

“No.", he said. He stood up, called on the hotel phone. A taxi.

And i sat here, in the mattress-depression left in his absence. It was still warm.

And he looked at me. And i looked at him, into his eyes. I saw loss.

“Told you to stay the night with me", i said.

And he slowly shook his head.

We went downstairs.

"You can do whatever you like here, just keep out of jail", he said.

His words as we went down the stairs bounced against my cranium, clumsy lines of text.

And we went outside, into the clumsy dark. Lit up but not quite.

And i stifled a tear watching the car door close, the wheels spinning up .

Artemis, through the night, south. 400, possibly 500 km/h. Into the danger place.

I had decided to stay. I'd do anything to go now, i realised, i ran down the street, a dark silhouette being ran away from by a car.

And the car turned the corner. Fast.

«Good riddance», said a wiry man holding a gun. «My herricane was scared of him»

“It's dangerous", i said. “Don't tell me you take it."

«I sell it, fuck you. But yeah, i take it.»

But herricane is expensive. "What's it like?"

«Fcking amazing. Hey hey, you see the funny spiral?»

“No, i do not."

«Whatevs… do you want it?»

“no…?"

«Wanna make a quick buck? Sell it and get 10% commision…!»

A flash of blue tainted my headspace. Hallucination or real?

«Fuckkkkk»

Real.

He took a liquid. «Alcohol cancels it.»

And he ran off. «Soy de pekatuf! Si quieres, rendez-vouz ici!»

Is he mixing languages?!

And the policeman arrived. “The drugs, a suspect, human… you?"

Stay tuned for part 14, in which we go tour the north. All alone.

Some notes:

• Racism portrayal
  • I had this really interesting conversation on Discord and turns out my whole “well i don't see race because it doesn't matter here" kind of stinks of colourblind racism (well they said colorblind but it hurts my heart to write that :p) so that explains what Alexander saw here. So, it is mentioned in the places it matters.
  • Noticed that Jinner has been very opaque in saying what species the guys he meets are? He's in the north so now it's just “well, they're of this occupation and speak these languages" in a lot of cases.
  • Context-dependent discrimination. I like it. I only care for gender/sex (Eh whatever hey are i'm going for a mixed semantic space let's just say mi wile olin/unpa e jan mije and call it a day) in finding romantic and hookup partners, for example.
• Lines
  • I really like the line “do we really need to start a housing crisis?". I put it in as a “i want people to quote this out of context" kind of line, something that feels so oddly off what could be considered normal when read for itself. I like it.
  • I wonder if i write too many such lines, lines for the meme, to play with language.
  • Oh and also that drug addict at the end is Mr Wire, LTp2 Mr Wire. I think now is a good time to remind you that this takes place in late winter of 2024 and LT Autumn of 2024. Mr wire is one of the few connectors between the stories.
  • Plot twist for less drug-resistant audiences: He's trained himself to get high off flour. Maybe he's delusional. Eh.
  • The above plot twist is in the superposition of cannon and not cannon. He's selling flour as a scam. Why? To make money illegally or because he genuinely thinks it's the real thing? I'll leave that ambiguous, maybe.