Narrator 1:Welcome to Phineas Thatch’s shitty apartment! It’s pretty shitty. It’s small and it’s spare. Don’t worry, we’re not going to be here for very long.

Narrator 3:There’s not a whole lot in here. There’s a cot, a set of free weights, and frankly that’s about it.

Narrator 1:There’s a window. He has a nice view of the city outside. He’s in here now.

Narrator 2:Currently Phineas is at work in the rack, pushing through another set of squats to pass the time. He’s, uh, not really had much to do ever since the Loxlee Gala. Essentially it’s been a vacation, but he hasn’t been using it…to…

Narrator 1:…relax. No. He’s BORED. There’s not really much to do. He’s just waiting. Waiting for his next assignment. Waiting for the next communique from Consector Spahr. There hasn’t really been anything for a couple of days.

Narrator 2:He’s an introverted man, anyway. Uses his time alone to recharge. But this is getting a little ridiculous.

Narrator 1:Yes, and one must keep fit, after all. Which he’s doing! Pretty successfully! He’s very fit!

Narrator 3:As Phineas hauls the bar back up into the rack, a soft KNOCK comes from the door. “Come in,” Phineas calls.

Narrator 1:The door opens. And there stands Jonas Spahr.

Narrator 2:Statuesque. Casually dressed today in a simple eggshell-white linen jumpsuit.

Narrator 1:(as Jonas Spahr) “Hey, kid. Howzitgoin?”

Narrator 3:Phineas snaps to attention. [as Phineas] “Spahr! Good to see you.”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your session. I just had some news. Change of plans. We’re being deployed.”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “Oh?”

Narrator 1:Spahr looks him in the eye. “We’re going to Midst.”

[Theme music.]

Narrator 1:So:he’s got his shirt on again. Shirt AND armor. Phineas is strolling down the corridor inside the Consector’s flagship. They are in flight, the huge ship swimming through the air, its oars fanning out through the void. Phineas is on his way forward toward the bow of the ship; he’s going to the observation deck…”

Narrator 2:…to check in with Spahr:see if there are any details he needs to know for the mission. And, um, spend some time with his boss, who he hasn’t seen in a while.

Narrator 3:Part of putting on the armor, too, is for Spahr, after all. Maybe not so much for Phineas’s own comfort, but it’s part of the job.

Narrator 1:It IS the uniform, after all, and Phineas and Spahr are now once again on the job. Spahr, too, will be decked out. And as the door at the end of the corridor opens into the observation deck, Phineas sees Spahr silhouetted at the giant window at the prow—the hard edges of his armor…

Narrator 3:…in stark relief against the curved glass.

Narrator 2:This room is flooded with light. There’s a sort of bubble of glass jutting out under the prow of the ship and that’s where Spahr is standing. It looks like he’s flying in midair. Well, flying in a stationary sort of way, standing there with his arms behind his back, surveying the cloudy brightness outside.

Narrator 1:Little flip of the shoulder cape. Look over the shoulder. [As Spahr:] “Phineas! Come in.”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “Sir! Good to see you.”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “Yeah. Thanks for jumpin’ to it. Not much notice for you. Not much notice for me, either.”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “Oh, of course. I’m always ready, sir.”

Narrator 1:Spahr puts down an envelope on a side table and, taking a seat, gestures to another seat beside him.

Narrator 3:Phineas takes the other seat.

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “Would you like something to drink? I can have somebody come up.”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “Oh! Uh, if you’re having something, sure.”

Narrator 1:Spahr has in one hand a twinkling, glassy beverage of some kind. Icy. Refreshing.

Narrator 2:(Spahr) “Yeah, it’s totally to fine to relax a little bit,” Spahr continues. “It’s not as though we have to be exactly on-duty every second of the trip.”

Narrator 1:Clouds and shimmering mica course past the window outside:a grand, ethereal vista floating past. Clouds upon clouds upon mica buttes upon more clouds upon empty air.

Narrator 2:The details blur a little bit as they actually pass into a cloud bank and are enveloped in diffuse white light.

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “How ya feelin’, Phineas?”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “Actually pretty great! Not to put too fine a point on it, but I think things have been… going really well.”

Narrator 2:Spahr raises a beautiful dark eyebrow at him, inviting him to continue. Phineas needs no urging.

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “Yeah! I guess between the Gala and some of our recent missions, I’ve gotten kind of a chance to stretch my legs a little bit and get out there. Lead the company and work on behalf of the Trust rather than just sort of standing by. I’m really grateful, I guess, is what I’m trying to say.”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “Tell me more about how it’s been developing for you.”

Narrator 2:Phineas isn’t exactly sure what kind answer Spahr is looking for. This is feeling… like something of a cross between a casual, intimate conversation and like a job review or something uncomfortable like that. Uh…

Narrator 1:There’s no pressure, though; Spahr isn’t… in fact, Spahr isn’t even really looking at him. He’s looking out the window right now. He’s gently swirling his citrus-y beverage in the glass.

Narrator 2:Actually, Spahr might be the most relaxed Phineas has ever seen him. And to be honest, Spahr is pretty relaxed MOST of the time. He’s got this ineffable confidence that nothing can shake. But right now it’s even moreso; he hasn’t got a care in the world as he casually grills Phineas.

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “Well, let me ask you this,” Spahr says. His gaze turns from the window. He regards his colleague. “What would you say has been the highlight of the last few months for you? There’s no wrong answer. I just want to know what you think.”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “I… I guess the thing that comes to mind most immediately was the… mission on the cruise ship. Uh… rescuing young Milton Fleit.”

Narrator 1:(Spahr.) “Sure.”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “It was kind of… my first chance to really… step forward and… and lead the Company.”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “And it felt good?”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “I liked it! I mean, it was certainly, like, stressful in the moment and… not knowing quite how to proceed… but…”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “So you didn’t like it at the TIME, but…?”

Narrator 2:(Phineas) “I don’t know, I just…”

Narrator 1:(Spahr, continued) “…but you liked it in retrospect?”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “…yeah…”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “I don’t want to put words in your mouth. But is that accurate?”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “I think that’s fair to say. I mean, it’s… not so much a matter of liking or disliking it as it’s happening, I guess. Moreso a… needing to fall back on… the method. On our training. On…”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “I see…”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “On knowing how to respond and then—with that as a support—ACTING.”

Narrator 2:(Spahr) “So what you’re saying,” Spahr says, “is it’s not coming from inside you? It’s coming from external reinforcement? It’s… you’re falling back on the training.”

Narrator 1:The door issues open quietly. A steward enters the room bearing yet another icy drink. Phineas takes it up. [As Spahr:] “Tell me how you felt at the time. I’m just curious. I watched. I stepped back as you took point in that situation. You did a nice job. But how DID it feel then?”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “Well, thanks for saying so. In the moment it’s almost as if things slow down, I guess. There’s kind of a… chance to take it all in. A moment to see everything that’s happening as it happens before you and then… making the choice… to… not… engage… with…”

Narrator 1:He’s struggling. He wants to say the right thing. Of COURSE he does. And Spahr? Spahr’s not being threatening at all. There is no real sense of danger here. This isn’t bad. Phineas knows that this isn’t bad. Spahr isn’t that kind of guy. Spahr is very relaxed. Spahr just wants to know how he FEELS. Spahr… just wants a report. Spahr… is just looking out for him…

Narrator 3:And admittedly this kind of attention from Spahr is something that Phineas has both longed for and feared. Wanting to stand out and wanting to catch his attention has been a goal of Phineas’ basically his entire career, but… when it comes right down to it…

Narrator 2:… he just wishes he could give Spahr some kind of answer that would make his eyes light up and impress him.

Narrator 1:Outside, the glittering ether courses past, the ship descending, descending. Deeper and deeper into the clouds, muted light filling the observation deck, glittering shrapnel fluttering past the glass. Darker and darker. Further and further down.

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “I guess what I’m trying to say is this, Spahr. Uh… I think it’s been going really well. I’ve gotten a chance to stretch my legs and to… ACT on my training. To actually actually USE the skills that I’ve been training and training and training.”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “And you’re looking forward to the future?”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “Yes! Absolutely!”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “And you’re excited to be part of the Company going forward?”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “Yes! Both as your… assistant, and… as just a member of the Trust.”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “So you’re HAPPY with your performance? Do you have any misgivings about things? Things you feel like you could be doing better? Things you want to change? Things I can HELP you change?”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “…No?”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “Is there anything I can do?”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “Well, I… uh…”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “Any guidance? Any opportunities you’d like more access to?”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “If I’m being honest, I guess, I mean… more opportunities to… stretch my wings… and…”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “Well this IS that time, Phineas. This IS your opportunity. And this is your LAST opportunity. Unfortunately… I have to serve you a warning.”

[The pulse and drone of the ship begins to skew eerily as Phineas starts to panic. A thunderclap rumbles distantly.]

Narrator 1:Outside the windows, there is lightning in the clouds.

Narrator 2:Phineas’ stomach drops, twisting.

Narrator 1:Spahr is moving in his chair, collecting something from the side table nearby. Phineas has SEEN this envelope over there. Didn’t register it.

Narrator 2:Didn’t think it had anything to do with HIM.

Narrator 1:Didn’t realize that it WAS for HIM. And it is now moving toward him in Spahr’s hand.

Narrator 2:If it hasn’t been made abundantly clear, envelopes in the Trust—any kind of PAPERWORK—it’s ALWAYS a big deal.

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “This is for you,” Spahr says, handing him the missive. “This is a report on your performance and an itemized rosters of areas in which we would like you to improve. This assignment is your opportunity to express areas of personal growth. To deal with the particulars specified in the document.”

Narrator 2:Phineas is dimly aware of a checklist. He sees words like “confidence” and “action” and “assuredness” through his fog of panic.

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “And you know, Phineas, this isn’t… this isn’t really just for ME. Been talking with a few others in the Trust. Couple of Notaries. And, um… well, I’m glad… I’m glad to hear what you have to say. And I AGREE with you on many points. But I think you lack CONVICTION, and you are not good with the media. Is that fair to say?”

Narrator 3:Phineas—heart racing, eyes trying desperately to focus—turns to face the window.

Narrator 2:One of the items on the checklist says “DO NOT SHOW WEAKNESS.”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “Do you think these observations are FAIR, Phineas? Would you dispute any of them?” And outside the window, the clouds break open below them. And the ship drops out of the sky into a VAST EXPANSE hanging over a HUGE, ENDLESS, JET-BLACK OCEAN.

Narrator 2:It stretches from horizon to horizon in every direction, fading to an indistinct gray haze at the very limits of vision.

Narrator 1:The air is peppered with glittering planetoids:bodies of matter, earth, floating in the air, hovering in space high above the ocean further down… and even bobbing in the surf of the ocean itself. Planets. ISLETS. The ship descends.

Narrator 2:All of these islets are barren. Lifeless. It’s not where they’re headed. Their destination is down THERE… spinning on the Mediun:MIDST.

Narrator 1:ONE islet. Red and green, rolling slowly in the black ocean.

Narrator 2:Still pretty small at this distance, but large enough to see the vivid colors standing out against the black of the Fold.

Narrator 3:Trying to pull himself out of this free-fall… of the abyss of vision stretching out before him… Phineas takes another nervous glance at the paperwork in his hands.

Narrator 1:Spahr laughs. “I don’t mean to upset you, Phineas! This isn’t anything you can’t handle! If everything you’ve said to me is true… about stretching your legs, about your confidence… you just told me, am I right? Was I imagining things when you said to me that you feel like things are going well and you can handle things like this?”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “No, sir.”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “No.”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “Well, then, this is no problem for you, Phin. Read this. Okay:kid. Have a drink, please! I’ve been glad to have you on my team. You’re a hell of a guy. You are… a terrific member of the Trust. There are just a FEW—just a COUPLE—of little things you gotta fix. And unfortunately you gotta fix ‘em pretty soon. Okay? We’d like to see you fix them before we jet back from Midst, alright? Unfortunately if you can’t fix them, we’re gonna let you go. That shouldn’t come as a surprise. I mean, you KNOW that. Our team needs to be the BEST. And you CAN be the best… if you just work on this for me, okay? Can you do that?

Narrator 2:The cosmic, endless blackness is rising. Rising. Slowly swallowing more and more of the view from the observation deck.

Narrator 1:The huge black ocean of fog… the huge ocean of FOLD. [As Spahr:] “Phineas:this isn’t a pun when I say I TRUST you. I mean, I would say no pun is intended, but a pun is always intended when I say that. I TRUST that you can do this. And what I need you to DO for me… is TRUST in your SELF. I can’t give you any guidance. I’ve already given you everything I can. I’ve actually been instructed not to help you. This is all on YOU.” Outside the window, Midst—the round, red, rocky planetoid—rolls slowly, massively, in the jet-black ocean. Hovering high above in the air:a rocky crag of mica, as a matter of fact, floating above the ocean—the sea of Fold. Hovering above Midst:the islet’s MOON. Spahr’s ship cuts down through the air, zeroing in. [Spahr:] “Talk to me, Phineas. Don’t… don’t look so scared, kid! You’re fine. At least, I’d like to think you will be. Don’t let me down, okay?”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “I’ve got this! Um… thanks, Spahr.”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “No problem. Like you said, think of it as a learning opportunity. Exercise those LEGS you were talking about.”

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “Yeah, I’m gonna take this back to my room.”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “We’re disembarking in about 15 minutes. And of course Pom and all the media are on board and they’re gonna be getting off… and they’re all gonna want a few words, so… take a few minutes and I’ll see you outside at the dock.”

Narrator 2:The moon of Midst—huge and crystalline—passes by silently, shimmering on the starboard side…

Narrator 1:…surrounded, itself, by a buzzing hubbub of tiny vessels, all flitting to and fro. Mining ships. They give the Consector’s craft a wide, respectful berth as it circles down towards the bobbing surface of Midst floating in the ocean like an apple in a barrel.

Narrator 3:(Phineas) “I’ll see you in a bit, Spahr.”

Narrator 1:(Spahr) “You got it, Phin.”

Narrator 3:Phineas nervously gets to his feet and strides with as much confidence as he can muster back out the door.

Narrator 1:And Spahr puts down his drink. Shakes his head. Blinks. Gets up and walks forward to the observation window, stepping out into its curvature, looking down at the rising surface of the planetoid below. The ship descends smoothly, entering the islet’s atmosphere, passing through its OWN clouds. And the rocky red and green lush and arid wasteland of Midst speeds by below as the ship descends… entering Midst’s local gravity, gliding towards ONE distinctive, craggy, red mountain… summited by a city.

[Silence. Then Lark’s theme begins to play. We hear outdoor desert ambiance and the roar of a massive ship passing overhead.]

Narrator 2:Outside her house, Lark watches the ship’s descent.

Narrator 1:It leaves a dense, long contrail in the air. It draws the eye, its oars describing a herringbone crosshatching in the trail. It is clearly a Consector’s ship. The ship arcs overhead, circling the territory, descending in the distance towards Stationary Hill. Lark, standing in the desert, stares at it.

Narrator 2:She takes a last drag on the stub of her cigarette, feeling the bitter ash in her mouth, and flicks it away into the brush.

[Lark sighs heavily.]

Narrator 2:Well, she can’t put it off any longer now. Gotta do it. Today. Tonight, at the latest. Gotta go kill Fuze.