Narrator 1: Phineas Thatch is here for a ceremony. 

[Ships overhead. The rumble and thrum of a vast, strange city in the background.] 

Narrator 3: A ceremony for HIM. This is the thing that he has been working toward his entire professional career. 

Narrator 2: Here at the Central Vault, Phineas steps out of a private shuttle. His armor is buffed to a glassy shine, gleaming in the unlight, a velvet half-cape swept over one shoulder. He’s aware that society observes his every move. 

Narrator 1: The stakes are VERY high at this precise moment, and it feels incredible. It’s a little bit stressful, of course. This is an important moment for him and for all of his fans at home. He strides with purpose. He proceeds down the grand causeway toward the vault’s spectacular, cathedral-like entrance. Breathing steadily as he goes, willing himself forward, consumed by a feverish anticipation. 

Narrator 2: This is no ordinary day. His lifelong objective is straight ahead of him, mere minutes away, STEPS away—awaiting him, calling him forward. 

Narrator 3: This reward—not to put too fine a point on it—is literally… NOTHING. [Theme music.] 

Narrator 1: Saying that Phineas’s reward is ‘nothing’ is maybe a little bit misleading. Technically it’s true: his reward is ‘nothing.’ He’s here to get nothing. As things go on, it will make more sense. 

Narrator 2: We were being intentionally a little bit misleading for the sake of dramatic effect. 

Narrator 1: We often are, as you may have learned by now. 

Narrator 2: But it’s true enough to say that what he’s here to receive is the STATE of nothingness—the quality of ‘zero’ in his Valor account.

Narrator 1: And the means to that end lies just inside. The doors breach before him, swinging open in a grand manner. They creak and grind in a way that they clearly have been engineered to do. This is the Grand Vault; they’re not squeaky because they’re poorly oiled. They’re squeaky because they’re trying to make an impact. And they DO. His heart leaps in his chest as the portal fissures open in front of him and the massive promenade inside the space becomes visible within. 

[A grand interior ambiance: foot traffic and low conversations echoing vastly.] 

Narrator 3: It’s probably worth noting that the experience of stepping into this space is akin to entering a Mint or a federal reserve bank. This is a significant economic destination, but the honorifics that have been bestowed upon it are at once religious, philosophical, economic… there’s a lot going on here. And it’s an important place. 

Narrator 2: The building has a presence—a sort of buzzing under Phineas’s feet and in the walls surrounding him. He can hear the vast machinery lining the infrastructure of the Vault clinking and humming—a vast engine thrumming somewhere beneath him. Phineas can’t help but feel that the vault is looking a little bit empty today considering the momentous occasion that’s about to take place. All he can see are a few clerks and minor Notaries going about their business. Doesn’t see too many people dressed up in finery. 

Narrator 1: They’re probably already in the room waiting for him, he reasons. 

Narrator 3: He re-reads his formal invitation summoning him to the Central Vault. On it, there is a room number, a specific time, and—making a quick assessment of the overall layout of the building,–[Phineas] starts to navigate down one long, grand, opulent, atrium-like hallway towards the room in question. 

Narrator 1: In the vast reach of the Un, in the entire sprawl of this civilization, there is no finer—no more magnificent Vault—than THIS. Phenomenally tall ceilings. Grand windows to either side of each passageway. Banners, tapestries, glorious carpeting. Marble. The walls are struck through with decorative, glowing shards of mica. In most situations, mica is an intruder. But here it is an intentional architectural accent. And beyond the windows there sprawls the vast capital city of the Un. 

Narrator 2: The machinery that dispenses the freshly-minted Caenum and Valor beads is not merely functional, as it is in some smaller Missions. Here it is laid out in a gorgeous, decorative tapestry into the walls, where you can see the beads whizzing by, glittering, catching the light, dazzling the eye.

Narrator 1: It’s kind of like a gigantic hamster palace: a complex gridwork of pipes. Narrator 3: Like a marble maze or tower. 

Narrator 2: But much more serious than either of those things! 

Narrator 1: This is all VERY serious. That’s not even a joke; it really is. This is very important: they would build a cathedral that was not deadly serious. 

Narrator 2: No, it is an awe-inspiring, vaguely-reminiscent-of-a-hamster-maze (or a marble maze) palace. 

Narrator 1: Phineas sees none of it; his objective is ahead. 

[Phineas swings through a doorway. It shuts behind him. The ambiance of a quiet room with a quiet puttering of a mechanical device somewhere in the space.] 

Narrator 3: Stepping into a chapel of sorts, Phineas proceeds down an isle, empty pews to either side, some large dais dead ahead. And no one is here. 

Narrator 2: Huge floor-to-ceiling windows along the left wall let in unfiltered unlight, highlighting the emptiness of the pews that much more. 

Narrator 1: The massive machine at the back of the chamber— 

Narrator 2:—reminiscent of a church organ, if a church organ’s pipes were like a hamster maze. Not made to channel music—sound waves and air—but made to channel these beads: these symbols of currency and status. 

Narrator 1: Just before the machine, there’s a sort of landing spot. 

Narrator 2: Like a stage. 

Narrator 1: He stands there, looking around. There isn’t anybody here. He wonders if there was some miscommunication. The place is literally empty. 

Narrator 2: Maybe he got the room number wrong? 

Narrator 1: There’s a sound from behind him: a door opening.

[A door creaks open.] 

Narrator 3: He snaps to attention and casts his eyes in that direction as a stooped but grand-looking old man hobbles in. 

Narrator 1: He is wearing his own Abacus—his own beads of Valor— as a sort of a turban: a wraparound decorative mountain of jewelry upon his head. 

Narrator 2: Looking at it, Phineas feels the weight of his paltry collection of Caenum around his neck heavily. Although this man’s Abacus is surely much more heavy than his own. 

Narrator 1: Milton Fleit Sr.—Grandfather to the younger Milton Fleit, who we met earlier in the unfortunate hostage situation—comes down the stairs towards Phineas Thatch, extending a hand. [As Milton Fleit Sr.:] “Adsecla Phineas Thatch. A pleasure to see you. Thank you for coming coming on such short notice.” 

Narrator 3 (As Phineas Thatch): “Mr. Notary, it is my honor,” Phineas says, immediately taking a bow. 

Narrator 1 (As Fleit): “Nonsense. Get… get…get up, young man. This is… this is your day. Do you realize the import of the deed that you accomplished? Young Milton is safe thanks to you. And it is I who am honored by your presence.” Milton Fleit is a very serious man. Very grave. Lines on his forehead. Lines around his mouth. You know, the lines that run sort of from the corners of your nose down the sides of your mouth? Frown lines. 

Narrator 2: His stooped posture the result of years spent sitting at a very grand desk. 

Narrator 1: He beckons Phineas to stand from his position, kneeling here on this small stage. [As Fleit:] “Please, none of this groveling, young man. Please come have a seat here with me on this pew. I… I would speak with you for awhile while we both still have the time. I am sorry, by the way, that we couldn’t meet in my office. There are currently others of my colleagues there. There’s a large meeting going on. This is a little bit 

irregular that we should meet HERE, but, um… it should provide an adequate venue for our conversation. 

Narrator 2: Phineas feels the beginnings of a twisting, leaden sensation in his stomach, but he does his best to soothe it down. Ignore it.

Narrator 1: Senior Notary Fleit, with all of his beads jangling and his long robes swooshing, whispers over to an empty pew. Of course, all the pews are empty. He could take his pick of any of them. He sits right down on the foremost of them, closest to where Phineas is, and beckons that Phineas should come sit with him. He puts an arm jauntily over the back of the pew. 

Narrator 2: Phineas’s armor is not quite made for sitting down, but he does his best. 

Narrator 3 (Thatch): “So kind of you, Mr. Notary, to take the time to see me in person. I can’t express how much it means to me that you would take notice of this particular deed.” 

Narrator 2: Ah, Phineas. Always so humble and subservient—even with his heart in his throat. 

Narrator 1: Phineas is essentially a gentle soul, and he would never put it so bluntly, but this is bullshit. Something’s wrong. On an occasion such as this one, this chapel should be bursting with onlookers, with Notaries, with the Adsecla’s attendants, with members of the press. There’s no one here but them. Where IS everyone? 

Narrator 2: Phineas smiles, meekly receiving this outpouring of gratitude as he comes to terms with the fact that there is no ceremony in his honor today. There is no audience coming to see him break even. Spahr isn’t going to be here, for sure. It’s just him and Senior Milton. That’s fine. That’s… fine… 

Narrator 1: Fleit releases his grip on Phineas’s shoulder, saying “Please, do not hesitate to contact me if there is anything you require. I feel that you and I now bound across time and space because of your sublime deed. But if you will excuse me, there is a large transaction. We are about to receive Kozma Laszlo for negotiations, so if there is nothing further, I would like to see you on your way and offer you one last statement of my eternal gratitude.” He begins to retreat as though he’s on his way out. The conversation is clearly over. Everything that needed to be said HAS been. 

Narrator 3: Not quite sure what to do with his body, Phineas at once stands, tries to bow as Mr. Fleit turns to face him. [As Thatch:] “I beg your pardon, Sir, but… I was led to believe… that… this was my… breaking even ceremony?”

Narrator 1: Fleit gazes at him evenly. This is a man who professionally deals with vast amounts of Caenum and Valor on a daily basis, and a statement like this—well, it’s nothing to him. He observes Phineas and says, “Oh, but I’m sorry, I’m afraid there has been a miscommunication.” 

Narrator 2: But he makes a motion toward the dispensary at the head of the chapel. Narrator 1 (Fleit): “Do you perhaps wish…?” 

Narrator 3 (Thatch): “I’m so sorry, sir, I… I didn’t mean to presume.” 

Narrator 1 (Fleit): “No, no, no. If it was your impression that today your account would be balanced…?” 

Narrator 3 (Thatch): “Oh, no, sir, I did n—again, I did not mean to presume you, of all people, would be responsible for such a thing. No, that is by far a… a junior notary’s responsibility at best.” 

Narrator 2: It’s true, this sort of thing could be done at the front desk if Phineas just walked out handed in his abacus there. It’s very routine. 

Narrator 1 (Fleit): “Mr. Thatch, you are of course due for a balancing. It is the least I can do.” Fleit turns back fully towards Phineas, approaching him again. “You have come all this way, and I must apologize. How thoughtless of me to not offer you this service, personally.” He gestures to the huge pipe-organ-like hamster contraption in the back of the chamber. “It would be my pleasure, Adsecla Thatch, to personally conduct your balancing at this time. Only if you have a moment to spare, of course.” 

Narrator 3 (Thatch): “I would be tremendously honored, sir.” 

Narrator 1: Phineas feels so much better right now. This is what he thought was gonna happen, though there are about 500 fewer people in the room than he was expecting. 

Narrator 3: So it’s not QUITE what he thought would happen, but at least it’s happening. 

Narrator 2: And in any case, even if there’s not a room of people witnessing him, he has the Senior Notary here actually DOING the balancing personally, so that’s something.

Narrator 1: And there he goes: Fleit is trundling across the room over to the sort-of-keyboard—the control panel, the apparatus that operates the entire massive contraption. He takes a seat. He operates some foot pedals. He manipulates some keys and then, turning to Phineas, says “Please place your abacus in Receptacle A just there, if you would be so kind. 

Narrator 3: Phineas, with all the gravitas can muster, unclasps the simple abacus around his neck, the three small Caenum beads still strung upon it. He suspends this abacus in Receptacle A, and—taking a step back—clasps his hands with reverence over his chest. 

Narrator 1: He stands on the stage before the machine. 

Narrator 2: His whole body feels electric—reverberating with the significance of this occasion. 

Narrator 1: Senior Notary Fleit, observing him, turns back to the controls of the machine and begins to operate them. A bit rustily, to be honest, but adeptly. 

Narrator 2: He seems like he might be having a little bit of fun, actually. It’s hard to tell. 

Narrator 1: He actually doesn’t get to operate these machines very much these days. He mostly tells other people to operate them. 

Narrator 2: Still, this where he got his start, like most Notaries. 

Narrator 1: The machine goes wild. (Maybe that’s putting it a bit grandly.) The machine begins to clatter. Parts begin to revolve. Wheels begin to turn. Beads begin to sluice down transparent pipes. The reservoirs begin to chug and clatter. The whole chamber echoes with a symphony of beads. 

Narrator 2: Phineas’s three Caenum beads are whisked off of the cord and the machine begins the process of making change for him, as it were. 

Narrator 3: In Receptacle B of the machine, the simple Abacus cord is re-strung with Phineas’s new balance. 

[The vault machine dings and goes quiet, its transaction completed.] Narrator 1 (Fleit): “There you are, young man: your balance is made.”

Narrator 2: ONE black bead of Caenum. 

[Tense music begins to rise.] 

Narrator 1: And that means that he has NOT broken even. His deed—the rescue of young Fleit—was not sufficient… did NOT neutralize this one item of negative balance still on his fucking necklace. He is STILL a SLAVE. 

[A pause. The music grows more angry and confused.] 

Narrator 1: Notary Fleit rises from the machine. [As Fleit:] “In recognition of your bravery in service to the Fleit family—for the recovery of my beloved grandson—I have taken the liberty of adding a personal gratuity to your balance from my own account to yours. Please accept it with my thanks.” 

Narrator 2: But even WITH the gratuity, Phineas’s balance is STILL in the negative. STILL not ZERO. 

Narrator 1: But he can’t show his disappointment. 

Narrator 3: He immediately takes a knee, prostrating himself before the Senior Notary. “Thank you, sir,” he almost whispers. 

Narrator 1 (Fleit): “Please. Stand. And excuse me: I must be on my way. But I will look forward to seeing you at the Loxlee Gala in the coming weeks. I presume you shall be in attendance?” 

Narrator 2: Phineas nods weakly. 

Narrator 1 (Fleit): “Excellent. Have a nice day.” Senior Notary Fleit is getting out of here; he has put up a hand in farewell, and he’s off through that door. The door swings shut and the chamber is SUPER empty once again. 

Narrator 2: This one bead doesn’t represent one Caenum; it’s a high-denomination bead that represents WAY more than he expected to still have in his account. He can’t just pay this off by going out and helping an old lady cross the street. To zero THIS out, he might be looking at another entire tour of duty with the Consector. 

Narrator 1: Or more, even. He doesn’t even know. Maybe this means another six months of work. Maybe another year. Maybe TEN. He… he almost needs to sit down.

Narrator 2: The conversion rates fluctuate daily. 

Narrator 1: This SUCKS. 

Narrator 3: What the actual FUCK? 

Narrator 1: Basically. That’s what he thinks. 

Narrator 2: He’d never say something like that out loud. 

Narrator 1: There’s a sort of clatter at the back of the room as someone enters. He turns… 

Narrator 3: …looking up from the single-beaded Abacus in his hand. 

Narrator 1: There is a familiar figure coming. The last time we said that, it was Lark. It is not Lark this time. It is actually the girl encumbered with teletheric shit. 

Narrator 2: We don’t know her name. 

Narrator 1: Actually, no, we don’t. Which is strange. We can go on the record as saying we actually have no idea what her name is. 

Narrator 3: We’ll call her ‘Backpack’ for now. 

Narrator 2: She has that huge backpack on, laden with teletheric equipment. Jedidiah Pom is not with her this time. 

Narrator 1: It’s actually a little bit odd to see her here by herself. She is lumbering down the aisle—this skinny, sort of underfed-looking kid. Phin has never even really talked to her before. She’s coming toward him. 

Narrator 2: She’s maybe about 16. Her cheeks are red with exertion. [As the backpack girl:] “Oh, good, you’re still here. Thought I might’ve missed you. Uh, you have time for a quick statement?” 

[A microphone sizzles to life as she begins recording.] 

Narrator 2: She holds a cumbersome microphone at Phineas’s face. He flinches back just a bit.

Narrator 3 (Thatch): “What… kind of statement?” he says, his hand falling open to expose the bead. 

Narrator 2 (backpack): “Y’know, just a quick blurb for the dailies. It’s… I—I have to… I have to get one. I was sent here to get something from you but, yeah, I—I have a few other appointments I have to get to today, so, um… hey, uh… where IS everybody? They leave already?” 

Narrator 3 (Thatch): “You’re sort of the only one.” 

Narrator 2 (backpack): “Oh. Must’ve been a miscommunication. I thought you were breaking even today. Anyway, I’ll still take a statement.” 

Narrator 1: The microphone is in his face. She waits expectantly for something. 

Narrator 3: The things Phineas WANTS to say are raging across his mind. Outwardly, he simply says: “There’s more work to be done.” 

Narrator 2 (backpack): “You know, the… the statement is 30 seconds. Do you want me to take the full 30 seconds, or is that… all… you…?” 

Narrator 1: She shifts her weight on her feet. She seems like she’s carrying an awful lot of stuff. She’s very uncomfortable. She kinda wants to get out of here. 

Narrator 2: The machinery in her backpack whirs and quivers as it processes Phineas’s sound-bite. [As backpack:] “Okay, well, I see you’re busy and I’m also busy, so, I’ve gotta get going. Congratulations, by the way. That was… that was pretty cool, what you did.” 

Narrator 3 (Thatch, miserably:) “For the good of the Trust.” 

Narrator 2 (backpack): “Yeah. Well, bye.” 

Narrator 1: She turns. She goes. She starts lugging all of her crap back out of the chapel and is off through the door. And now Phineas is alone, his abacus limply dangling between his fingers. He puts it back on. 

Narrator 2: Might as well. It’s not like he can make it disappear. It’s only a symbol of his account balance, after all. It doesn’t matter what he does with it.

Narrator 1: But you know what? This astonishing disappointment aside, you know what? Lets… we can look on the bright side of things. 

Narrator 2: PHINEAS can look on the bright side. 

Narrator 1: Phineas can look on the goddamn BRIGHT SIDE. 

Narrator 2: Yeah, Phineas! Look on the goddamn bright side! 

Narrator 1: Observe him as he looks on the GODDAMN BRIGHT SIDE. Narrator 2: Yeah! 

[Hopeful music begins to swell.] 

Narrator 2: Look at this guy! He’s a good-looking young man, not even in the prime of his life. APPROACHING the prime of his life… in gleaming silver ARMOR. Looking GOOD. Got a big party next week. He’s ALMOST at zero. Really, things aren’t so bad. 

Narrator 1: Abacus is on. He straightens up, takes a deep breath, looks around the super-empty room, and—with the same purpose he had before—he goes: he walks out of this chamber with the confidence befitting the Adsecla to the Prime Consector. 

Narrator 2: Everything’s fine. Nothing’s wrong. 

Narrator 3: “I’ve got this,” he thinks. 

Narrator 1: There’s no catastrophic discontent here. He can… he can roll… with this, right? Just a FEW more good deeds in the company of Consector Spahr and we’re… we’re set. 

Narrator 2: …before he is truly… finally… VALOROUS.