In the previous episode...


    1.1.4 An Intriguing City


    On arriving at Torello they find a city reminiscent of Venice, divided into 6 districts


    NORTH:?????????Alto,??????Nobles????????????????????????????????House Bruno


    SOUTH:?????????Basso,?????Peasants and immigrants???????????????House Pazzi


    EAST:??????????Arsenal,???Sailors, Travellers and Entertainers??House Ruffo


    WEST:??????????Libri,?????Scholars??????????????????????????????House Zeno


    UPPER MIDDLE:??Centrale,??Administrators????????????????????????House Trinci


    LOWER MIDDLE:??Mercato,???Merchants?????????????????????????????House Landi


    and set about finding trainers for their chosen professions:


    KAFANA: ????Priestess (Isabella), Mage (Nafaro), Cook (Columbina)


    TOMSK: ?????Warrior (Lelio), Captain (Lelio)


    BUNGO: ?????Warrior (Lelio), Mage


    WELLINGTON: Mage


    ALDERNEY: ??Scout (Carlo), Crafter


    BULGARIA: ??Actor (Comico), Necromancer (Ruffiana)


    But, being one of the first parties to reach Torello, the Wombles soon found themselves drawn into a major quest plotline when it turned out that the captive they’d rescued was none other than Vittoria, head of a local orphanage and confidante of Isabella (the local high priestess of Cov, and the target of political machinations). In the cause of building a livestream viewership that they could use to bring about social change in arlife (the real world), they accepted The Lovebirds quest chain, which required them to help clear away all obstacles preventing Lelio from marrying Vittoria, and Isabella from marrying some mage called Flavio.


    Unfortunately for Kafana, the rest of the Wombles unanimously agreed that she was the best choice to be the viewpoint character for their recordings - an intimidating responsibility, given the consequences that Wellington and Bulgaria believed to be at stake (nothing less than humanity’s last chance to resist a surveillance tyranny so all encompassing that it might never get overthrown). All she’d wanted to do was spend some time with her friends.


    Peeved, she laid down two conditions. Firstly, the party should try to stay together, so they could model the interactions and thought processes they wished to spread. Secondly, because the new tiara technology they were all using, that let Kafana have an all-senses fully immersive experience (velife), or a partial information overlay (orglife), was able to record her emotions (the factor that made recording such compelling viewing because, for example, it let the viewer experience not just how a song sounded, but also how the singer felt about it), she demanded that the party help her stay immersed in her role by doing their best to treat the expert systems running NPCs inside the game as real people, whose feelings and ambitions mattered as much as those of any player character inside the game.


    ...now read on!


    1????????????Soul Bound


    1.1??????????Finding her Feet


    1.1.5????????An Inscrutable Mastermind


    1.1.5.1??????Small changes


    She kept her crown-like tiara on while she got dressed, looking through its orglife portal as her Vessel woke up and took out the note she’d just written.


    {Minion, do you have access to the books in my inventory?}


    [No, Nadine. Only to the pages that you have looked at. However I can also see what your Vessel sees. If she flicks through the books, I can record it.]


    She nipped back. *flip*


    Back in Kafana’s body, she took all the books out of inventory space and put them by her bedside, then hastily penned a note: “Ooops! Sorry to interrupt. If you find time, can leaf through any of these, just half a second glance per page? Spirit.” and signed it with a love heart. *flip*


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    She removed the crown, and put it carefully back in its box under her bed, before going down to the kitchens. She sighed. Same menu as always. She went out to the bar and sat next to Bahrudin who had taken to sitting by the coffee preparation area, like a king surveying his domain. The customers all seemed happy. A couple were playing a game of Othello, to helpful and unhelpful comments by spectators.


    “Impeccable as always, Elder Bahrudin.”


    “Thank you, Miss Sabanagic. We do appreciate the haven you have created here.”


    “If you could have your wish, what items would you see added to our food menu, that are not currently provided? No guarantees, but I’m currently in a creative mood, and wouldn’t mind challenging myself.”


    Bahrudin considered a moment, then shook his head as though sensing a trap: “Cevapi and klepe were good enough for my father, they’re good enough for me. And your tufahije is beyond compare.”


    Jasic joined in: “I’ve always been partial to b?rek. I’ve not had good b?rek since my wife left me for a Cetnik policeman.”


    Cosic, as always, disagreed with him: “B?rek? What’s wrong with Bosnian fare such as freshly fried ustipci? You might as well ask for dolma.” She’s seen the two of them arguing over the colour of the sky. Anyone watching them would never guess they were firm friends, and that Cosic had rallied around when Jasic had been about to lose his farm.


    “What, are we a museum?” she put an air of astonishment into her voice. “Is Bosnian culture so fragile that a single dolma can threaten it?”


    After a pause she answered her own question: “Kafana Sabanagic isn’t a haven to protect you from all change. You are tougher than that. It is a haven because it allows us to control the change. To decide how we wish to adapt, not deny the necessity of it. So then. I have decided. Today I shall cook something new. Something foreign. And you will all try it. And then we can stare it in the face, unafraid, and decide for ourselves whether we wish to include it in the menu or not, the masters of our own fate.”


    She added: “After all, our culture draws upon so many sources already, and our history is richer for it. It would be un-Bosnian to stop doing so now. Our task is to pick elements that will blend harmoniously and add to what we already have, rather than cause a discord and detract from it.”


    She swept back into her kitchen, to leave them to complain, and then be worried that others might think them afraid, and finally to take ownership and decide it was their idea all along.


    <hr>


    On the kitchen counter, where the drones put fresh herbs for her, was a box from Alderney. Inside were a pair of earrings, a box with a plug, and a drip cloth showing a boring animated advertisement for Tuzlanski kiseljak mineral water. There was also a short note:


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    Nadine, plug the box in near where you keep your tiara. It will keep everything charged and unsnoopably connected. The earrings will pick up anything you say subvocally, and use induction to play audio to you that nobody else will be able to hear. The drip cloth I’m especially proud of. You can put it on a surface in public, and even rest drinks on it. Nobody will suspect a thing. But if it detects someone wearing the earrings then it will display a different visual image. Only in their direction and only if nobody else is in that direction. The machinery for the kitchen should be delivered early this evening. Will you accept this as settling the 100 gp bet? Heather.


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    She put the earrings on and tried a whisper {Minion, can you hear me?}


    [Yes, Nadine. Vessel-Kafana is leafing through a book about healing. It appears that healing minds takes both water-light for healing and air-order for mind. It might be best to try it in partnership with a second mage or priest.]


    She plugged the router into a socket by her bed and asked Minion to display recipes possible with the ingredients she had on hand, using the drip cloth as a display. She settled upon lightly seasoned fried halloumi sticks with a chili and mint yogurt dip and a slice of lemon to squeeze over it. Whether adding salt, or a squeeze of lemon, people always appreciated the opportunity to do a final garnish. It gave them a feeling of agency.


    While she cooked, she discussed the book and her morning in Soul Bound with Minion. He’d picked up on several things she’d missed, such as the Krev runes inscribed upon Harlequin’s short stick. She got a brief chill, wondering what happened to those who tried shoplifting.


    When everything was ready, including her new addition, she handed the kitchen over to her lunchtime staff and took over the coffee production from Bahrudin, welcoming the occasional tourist and catching up on gossip. New layoffs, of course. There always were. This time in the police force - improved surveillance and expert systems had long since reduced the need for humans, but now they were handing over ‘routine’ arrests and patrols to non-violent semi-autonomous units who would call upon an enforcement trained human pilot to take remote control of the unit in the event that more forceful measures were needed. Or so it was claimed - many of her customers were skeptical. After all, who could double check that the police administration were really spending money to have humans sitting around to do little more than click an ‘accept’ box when asked to by the remote unit?


    {Minion, can you clip out the last five minutes of bar discussion, send it to Wellington, and ask for his thoughts?}


    [Done.]


    At least the customers were enjoying the halloumi. They were loyal.


    She thought about that reaction, and what Bulgaria had said about arlife authorities considering her to be a nuisance, if his plan took off. How easy would the police find it to pin-point her as a possible subversive, once they knew Kafana logged in from somewhere in this area? All they’d need was one paid informer recording chat from her bar. She remembered Bulgaria’s lecture on the subject, from back at UCL.