The Great Clock Heist
Michael
Thursday, June 28, 1973. So sometime between 11 and midnight or so, the three members of the field team [Jocasta, Mitch, and Roger] make their way down to the lobby and duck behind the screen and ropes so Jo can lay hands upon it. Given that Jo knows so much of the clock's putative history, that's going to give her a bonus on this roll because she'll know exactly what time period to focus on to get the really juicy details (+2). Of course, there is also a penalty assessed thanks to the distance in time from the clock's construction and arrival at the hotel (-5). But also since this is not a suspicious family therapist Jo is just brushing hands against, Jo can stay here vibing with the clock for up to 30 seconds (+5). So that's a net roll of IQ+2, or 16, for Jocasta's Psychometry.
>>>> SUCCESS
Jocasta intentionally goes back further than she usually does to get emotional resonances, spending a long time concentrating on the clock's emotional aura. Yes, over the past 30 years or so, the primary emotional bouquet is one of love, companionship, long-awaited reunions—even a little soupçon of sexual excitement (not all of those rendezvouses under the clock were innocent, of course, what else is a hotel for if not illicit assignations). As Jo delves back before the war, the aura gets more regimented; this is the time when the clock was a true Master Clock. Precision, control, a distribution of orderly, regimented time.
But then Jo follows the eddies of emotion back to when the clock arrived; a glorious object from the Old World, fine in manufacture, here is the pride of civic rebuilding in the aftermath of the earthquake, a symbol of San Francisco's endurance and survival: an edifice to a frontier spirit that cannot be shaken down.
Then shit gets Weird.
The emotions go in two WILDLY different directions at this point of the clock's arrival in San Francisco in 1907. In one pathway, the clock is put together with pride and craftsmanship at the Magneta factory in New York. The horologists and mechanics working on it leave imprinted behind on the clock's parts a sense of a job well done, of money made, of yet another fine Magneta product sent out to a happy customer. And that's the terminus of one timeline of emotions. But there is a second timeline here. One much, much older.
The second strand of emotions takes Jocasta back to a weird workshop, full of what feels like mischievous, capering craftsmen, a sense of rococo decorations ending in weird curves that bend outside of reality, of a piece of art so fractally detailed that it would and could literally drive a human being insane if they looked too deeply into it... but these craftsmen seem immune to such effects. There is the sense of a world beyond this one, one vastly different, of a, yes, Vienna full of this... goblin-like energy that means that every clock that comes from them is a ticking bomb. A cruel prank. A surprise set to go off any day now. Fright check at -2 please.
>>>> SUCCESS
Yeah, Jo is fine. I mean, shaken, that's up to you, but her sanity is intact.
Leonard
So, to clarify — and maybe it's too vague to clarify from Jocasta's reading — but did she get the sense that these craftsmen were History-B-originated/aligned, or that this was a madness machine made by some kind of evil actors in History A? Or was it just a general sense that "this is bad"?
Michael
Too vague. If you'd gotten a crit maybe you'd have gotten more than just the emotions. Your hunch is that in this "split" history, the craftsmen from "Vienna" were serious about this clock having real maddening effects and very gleeful about it.
Leonard
(Can't wait to call this one in to Sophie. "Yeah, I think it's a bunch of...gnomes! Or goblins! They're from Vienna. Just spiteful, evil little creatures with distorted features. Maybe bankers? Not sure. Anyway got anything on this?")
All right, well, Jocasta will take a cleansing breath, re-center herself, and share this sensation as clearly as possible with Roger and Mitch, explaining the dual-timeline branching but putting special emphasis, of course, on the gleeful gnomes of Vienna who designed this to be an insanity facilitator. She'll suggest that if we need to discuss further, we should pop back up to her room so that she can keep an ear open at Genevieve's party.
Bill
Roger is all for getting out of the vicinity before covers are blown, etc. Given the late hour and prior work to establish cover, we didn't need to put out the glyph-at-work sign, but better safe than sorry.
Leonard
Agreed.
Bill
But that said, Roger asks for five more minutes or so. He thinks he might be able to find something out, "by asking the loa", unless y'all think we've had enough danger hanging around and poking this thing.
Leonard
I'm good with it — you had Jocasta's back, she'll have yours.
Bill
OK. Roger sits down, pulls out one of his vevers (the white one) and lays it in front of him. He bows his head, puts his hands out palms up in a supplicant pose, and starts chanting in French. He starts fairly quiet, but his bass edges into the profundo as he continues. Y'all are hip enough now to hear the name Papa Legba, esp. as he keeps repeating it.
Roger rises to his feet, still chanting. Then the transformation takes place; he stoops, one leg buckles slightly under him, and he seems to be older than a second ago. On his face is a beatific smile. He chuckles to himself, and reaches out to touch his palm to the glass door of the clock pendulum. A beat or two later, he tsks, and turns to Jo. "Ah, mon chère, we meet again. Charmée" He reaches out to take her hand and kiss it; he'll wait for the lady to produce her hand. (gloved would probably be wisest.) Either way, he will continue, "My heart does wish for we two to meet in a more pleasant place some day. But this-- tsk tsk-- this is not one." His voice becomes more commanding. "I am the Opener of the Way. I am the Guardian of the Threshold" he announces, a little loudly.
"Mon chère, this is not a door that should be opened."
Leonard
(Jocasta will offer a re-gloved hand, with a bit of a wink.
Bill
He kisses it, ever the gentleman. He looks up, meeting her eyes, with an admonishing gaze. "Poison is behind this door. Poison of the will, of the soul. In it, beyond it, is la coupe-poudre, the powder that brings the body into subservience, that makes le zombi. Many, many would be made to dance to this one, le Maître du Zombi. Why such a fair one should have to hold this door shut, tsk, it is the sadness. But, mon chère, hold it shut you should."
He turns to Mitch, strokes Roger's chin like there is a beard on it, and gives him a narrow-eyed look. "Do not let the key turn in this lock. You have an eye. Do not let the sacrifice be made, or the belief turn to rot. Turn your eye to find the vever of the bad juju (he points at his own, on Roger's card on the ground below his feet.) And then keep this door away from it." He then chuckles good-humoredly. "Now, someone owes Papa a drink, and petites fours."
(There's a chance for an interaction or two, but if not, Papa will take his leave; he's willing to take an IOU, unlike some other saints and loas we could mention.)
Jeff
"Okay, that's pretty unambiguous."
Mitch scratches his chin. "I could light it up, but that would just make it a burned-out clock, or a broken clock. We need for it to not be a clock any more, if we want to be confident we've disarmed the, uh, the trap."
Bill
Roger, coming to, completes an obeisance, but then speaks, his voice a little ragged and scratchy. "Take it away. We need it not to be here anymore. He showed it to me... elsewhere."
Now Roger would like to bug out of this place. Esp. since his skin is crawling thinking about the hordes of white fleshy zombies he saw.
(Were they dead, or just really pasty nerds? Who could say?)
Leonard
Jocasta will suggest regrouping in her room so she can start monitoring Genevieve -- she'll even liberate some rum from the minibar to set aside for Papa. "So," she'll ask at the appropriate time, "We should definitely get all this to Archie and Marshall, but is the feeling now that we have to decouple the clock from the location? That it's the combination of the thing and the place that's creating the threat?"
Jeff
Oh, jeez, I totally missed a trick there, should Mitch be buying Roger drinks at the bar alongside whatever the sweetest dessert they can rustle up at this hour?
Bill
The minibar is all that's probably open at this hour.
Michael
Oh, I assumed there would be a biiiiig room service order
Bill
Room service liquor! Hello expense account!
Michael
Again, the bill is on Granite Peak. And the booze and sweets are literally gear for this mission.
Jeff
Cool, cool.
Bill
We are not ordering Zombies. Even if they have All the Rums.
Jeff
So the "now" of the game is a little before midnight on Thursday night, is that right? What's the con timeline/schedule for the next 24h?
Michael
That's right, I'd say for dramatic purposes it would be kind of sweet if that Papa Legba bit happened precisely at midnight.
So yeah, the opening ceremonies, keynote and guest of honor readings/Q&A start at 11 tomorrow morning.
That'll probably last 90 minutes.
Jeff
At this point, bereft of answers and with the clock ticking, I'd like to have a serendipitous run-in with whatever npc if any is the secret unknown prime mover of the imminent catastrophe, but I recognize that needs some kind of minimally plausible context, so no earlier than like 9 am I imagine. Coffee drinkers by the bar, breakfast buffet, last-minute setup in the art room. Waiting until the lead up to the opening ceremony feels like waiting too long, for all we know the catastrophe happens at 11:01
Michael
I love it.
That's definitely a 2-fer.
Jeff
I think there's a piece of the puzzle yet to reveal itself and perhaps egotistically I imagine Mitch has the best eyes to see it.
Bill
Speaking of the clock ticking... Roger more fully describes something he saw while he was under (once he's had a rum nip and a bon bon or two.) He saw the clock sitting right next to the Beth-El remnants and the Ikenga tapestry. It came up maybe as an alternative to a vision of the lobby and the hotel overrun with pasty zombies. "I think that the way to break the 'meet me at the clock' meme is to not have the clock there."
Jeff
"Convincing the hotel staff we need to carry the thing out … "
Bill
"What are the chances we could find a more ordinary replacement by the morning?"
"Zero. Plus I think we need it missing, like a tooth missing in a smile, to ruin the portrait."
"This is probably an 'apologize later' kind of scenario."
"I think there's a dolly in the van."
Jeff
"All right, you've talked me into it." Mitch drains his glass, sets it down, rises to his feet.
Bill
(Cue clock heist music! Well, at least until the first major obstacle, then cue the record scratch.)
Michael
I mean … with enough grunt work and application of that SANGUSH banner, I think this can be done pretty easily.
Jeff
"We need to tell Marshall, you think?" Mitch frowns. "Yeah, I guess," he says, answering his own question. "Let him know the deal. Bad vibes on the clock, gotta move fast."
Bill
"Yeah. Plus he was the Official Contact for the work, so he should be ready to take the complaints from the hotel in the morning"
Jeff
Ok. Mitch will not lunge for the phone but if he and Roger and Jo are awkwardly staring at their feet waiting for someone else to do it, he'll make the call.
Bill
Roger puts a finger against the side of his nose, and looks to see which of Mitch or Jo does so next.
"Looks like Mitch is it. I'll get the dolly and find my weight belt, so I don't throw out my back again."
Leonard
Jocasta will throw out the idea of calling in some bogus complaint when y'all start to move the clock -- rowdy kids in the halls, mistaken entry to her room, someone smoking weed, an element of truth but nothing that'll get an innocent nerd in too much trouble -- to keep any hotel security from being around/available.
Bill
Sure, distract the night manager, definitely. And we'll have the SAN.GUSH for any Cindy Lou Who, who was no more than two.
Jeff
Ok so Mitch calls Livermore.
Bill
"Hey: maybe suggest to Marshall he should set his Kids off, to stick it to the Man. There's a real distraction."
"And, maybe an excuse for getting the clock out of here. Damn crazy kids."
☏ ring-ring … ring-ring … ring-ring …
Michael
Charley's Caller ID shows the St. Francis Hotel exchange.
Sophie picks up, sends the call straight to the squawk box. Marshall has Genevieve's first Kinarchist series novel in front of him; he's in the last few pages. Sophie was over at the microfiche looking at old San Francisco newspapers.
"Yes?"
Jeff
"Hey, we got a clock problem. Gonna need to move it out of the hotel. Saint Peter and Jocasta both agree."
Michael
Sophie looks to Marshall.
Brant
Marshall picks up another phone to join the line. "OK. Does it need secure containment … like, should I tell the boys we need them to open up the Beth-El storage facility, or can we just stash it in Archie's office?"
Jeff
"Hm? Yeah." Mitch glances Roger's way. "By Bethel, that's where Peter wants it. We'll get it in the van and drive it over there, like, as soon as I hang up."
(Mitch does say "Bethel" instead of "Beth-El.")
Brant
“OK. Be seeing you.” He’ll hang up, tell Sophie to make the necessary calls to arrange the clock’s storage, and go back to highlighting sections of Viv’s book.
☏ click.
Jeff
So with the call made, we're doing this. The glyph should do the bulk of the (non-hauling) work.
If we jostle something loose, no problem, I'm sure Charley will enjoy repairing it.
Little girls like clock repair, right?
Michael
Some quick back of the envelope calculations tell me that a two-wheel dolly and three URIEL members are more than sufficient to carefully move the clock out of the hotel and to the van, parked conveniently on the street outside the front door.
Bill
Roger can do some quick work to take out major items that would bend, tangle, or come under pressure and break, like the pendulum, chains, etc. He'll also raid the supply closet for all their extra quilts/blankets, and some duct tape, to stuff and wrap the hell out of the thing. (So professional!)
Michael
I'll assess another point of Corruption to each of you for using SAN.GUSH again. Combining that with the uniforms that Roger and Mitch used for the repairs prevents the night manager from raising too much of a ruckus. You may need to give him a word or two on why it's being moved off-site but between Marshall's earlier phone call and the glyph you guys are as good as gold here.
Bill
And hopefully the night manager will have more major events to report on soon...
Michael
(I still kind of sit in amazement at how little Corruption Jocasta has.)
We can put a little cute "Moved off-site for repairs" sign in the spot between the two columns where it usually resides.
Bill
Very nice. Also seems more professional than CLOCK THIS, SUCKA.
Leonard
Jocasta is very nice and good. And to prove it, she will sneak off to the room, call the front desk, and tell them a flasher is running around on her floor so as to give the onsite security something to do besides be around when we move a clock.
Jocasta (after a speed pill to keep alert) will gather up the tapes, transcriptions, her sketches of the hotel's layout, a brief action report on the clock heist, and whatever other relevant stuff she might need, and have them couriered back to Livermore. (Seeing nothing crucially important about Genevieve's encounter with the Special Ones -- that is, nothing that set off her 'this is bad vibes' tingle -- she'll send the tapes of that too with a little note to Marshall saying, "I think she's deprogramming your reprogramming."
Then she'll order a bottle of gin from room service, tip the attendant generously, say "Good night, sweet prince," with a wink, and take her nightly medication, drifting off to sleep.
Michael
Sophie raises an eyebrow. "I suppose we should be in a state to meet with Mitch and Roger when they arrive." Sophie goes to the meds cabinet and pulls a bottle of Modafinil, offering it to Marshall first.
Brant
Marshall will politely wave it away before returning to the book. “They won’t be here long.”
Michael
"So you're almost done there. What do you think of Abeille? I'm honestly curious. I read the text for political indications, but I'm assuming you're taking a psychological approach."
Brant
Marshall does not look up from the book, turns a page, turns the page back, turns it back again. "I'm keeping an open mind." He attempts to project an attitude suggesting that Sophie leave him alone.
Michael
"You know what, DOCTOR? I don't need your SHIT tonight. I'm trying to WORK with you on THIS operation, trying to get some FUCKING information out of you, but it's like throwing someone in the tank at the Barn. Why are you such a FUCKING ASSHOLE all the time, you PRICK!" Sophie begins crying.
"You have something to say to ME?" Sophie says through the tears. "You ask it, like a man and not like the COWARD you are. I've been very fucking patient with you the past few months since the Mansa operation. I don't know what you think of me — I don't care honestly — but it's negatively affecting my ability to work on this team." She pauses for a moment. "Believe it."
Brant
Marshall closes the book and puts it down. “Do you want to take a seat?” He gestures at a chair across from him.
Michael
Sophie's mouth is a thin line; Marshall might think she's pouting like a little girl. But her eyes are aflame. She takes a seat.
Brant
“So, first — I am very, truly sorry to have offended you. Truly, you’re an extremely talented and intelligent asset. No doubt the best female officer I’ve worked with. If I’ve come across in a way that uhhh suggests that I dislike you, or something, it really is just a byproduct of the work. I spend so much time managing people’s desperations and insecurities and questions, especially in my uhhh day job, you know — anyway, it can sometimes make me seem sharp or cruel. You must know what that’s like, to always be saddled with these expectations of other people.”
“All I can really say is that I will try to be on better behavior — I don’t want to hurt you, or the work.” He smiles.
Michael
Sophie's face kind of falls. (You can give me a Psych check, Brant.)
>>>> CRITICAL SUCCESS
She obviously knows that there's a great deal of insincerity here but just the fact that you bothered to say any of that feels like an odd victory to her. She's satisfied, but also Marshall can sense she's trying to use this as an opening to unburden herself.
"If I tell you something here … it stays within these walls? I know I'm not your patient of course, but … I could use some help." A gulp and a pause. "I'm sincerely asking, and in asking this I also want to apologize for my own very unprofessional behavior just now. It was unfair of me to bring my pressures from outside the team to bear on you."
Brant
“I’ll listen to whatever you have to say, but I’d caution you to maybe sleep on it and try me again tomorrow — I wouldn’t want you to tell me something you’ll later regret.”
Michael
She blinks once hard, her jaw now as set and as tight as it was a little bit ago. "Marshall, I think SANDMAN killed my lover and his research team in the UK."
Brant
“This is … David? The one who ran that whole computer … thing?”
Michael
Sophie nods. "Everything around the subduction is so confused in my memory. The GRAIL TABLE team looked like they'd been savaged by wild beasts, but there was no Irruption. How would that happen? The after-action report said that the cause of death for every member of the GRAIL TABLE team was 'predator action due to electromagnetic/neurological effects on local fauna.' What kind of fucking cock-and-bull story is that? I know there were unusual crow murmurations, but … that?"
"I think it was an SAS team shooting them once in the back of the head and then slashing their torsos to ribbons." Sophie takes out a cigarette, "And you know what, Marshall? Even in the days following the return flight home? I thought to myself, 'Well, David deserved it. He fucking trifled with History B and he paid the price.' And here I am now spending my afternoon tracing inhuman geometries so these three can steal a fucking grandfather clock!" Sophie's voice cracks and raises in pitch on that last bit. Marshall, she's in extremis at the moment. Her sanity is not in real solid shape.
"How do any of us get out of this life in one piece, Marshall? Tell me, please. I just wanted to manage a library." She dabs her eyes with a Kleenex clutched in her cigarette hand.
Brant
“Where do you live, Sophie? Like do you have a house somewhere, an apartment in the city … ?”
>>>> SUCCESS
Michael
"I … I have an apartment in Castro Valley. Why do you ask?"
Brant
“Why don’t you head home for the night. There won’t be anything going on here that I can’t handle — I’ll call the warehouse about the clock. Honestly, I think you could use a break. You work longer hours than any of us. Just take the night.”
Michael
"If you think that's wise." She exhales. "I just took this damn pill so now I won't sleep." She laughs out loud, standing up from the table. "I will head home now. I'll be in first thing in the morning. Again … I'm sorry for my outburst."
Brant
“Look, just do something you enjoy. Watch the late night movie or read a book for fun. If you come in tomorrow at 10 no one will fret — Archie’s not even here this weekend.” He smiles. “Don’t mention it. I had it coming.”
Michael
Sophie grabs her bag and keys and says before leaving, "You'll lock up?"
Brant
“Yes.” Smile.
Michael
She's gone.
Brant
Alright, Marshall will call the warehouse people to arrange for the Clock’s arrival then go back to his studies. If Mitch and Roger want to check in with him that’s fine but he anticipates that they’ll need to head right back into town, and they can brief him and Archie in the morning.