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It went without saying that Connie, after hearing Kari suggest she’d killed the Scottish man, remembered the way his drunken hollers had echoed through the backstreets. The night it happened, years ago now, she came back and bricked her phone. She showered for an hour, staring at the water slipping through her fingers down the drain, even as it went from scalding her skin to chilling it. She didn’t read the newspaper for a year. Nobody questioned her when she filled out the forms for a new company phone, and every day she buried the memory a little deeper until the lie she wanted to live became the truth.

So why break the habit of a lifetime? Being responsible for somebody’s death just wasn’t a good look. She wished she’d worn something long sleeved – kept picking at her arms.

“Come on, guys,” Connie said once Tarquin returned to his podium. “We’re not gonna find anything out by just talking about it. Nobody knows anything at this point. Move on.”

Kari sniggered, and shot Connie a gaze so piercing that she had to double check she hadn’t accidentally turned up naked. How come a ten year old got to be taller than her?

Haralda nodded. Connie wouldn’t have said the teacher’s gunmetal outfit was particularly flattering, but then neither was her face.

Haralda said, “I agree. That objection was precisely the kind of derailment we were trying to avoid, and as it has only given us more questions than answers, I hardly think it deserves a counter argument. All those in favour of abolishing the 10,000 word deadline?”

Connie put her thumb to the ceiling. Worrying about the number had nearly been as stressful as paying the rent, although thus far it had led to significantly less hair loss.

6👍 1👎 – INVALID PERMISSION

The energy in Connie’s thumb promptly fizzled out. Kari, given their age, hadn’t yet developed the self-consciousness to be embarrassed by something like rolling on the floor laughing. They sounded like a goddamn hyena in heat.

“For fuck’s sake,” said Connie, ripping loose a strand of her hair with an explosive gesture.

Eirlys adjusted her glasses. “I expected as much. They wouldn’t make it that easy.”

Saheel shrugged. “Still, sisters, we had to give it a try, didn’t we? But it makes me think… did Beck really just give his life away for nothing?”

HOW NAÏVE, cackled Kari. HIS LIFE WAS FORFEIT THE MOMENT HE MURDERED HIS SPOUSE.

“What are you saying? How can you possibly know that?” Saheel frantically mimed a crucifix, then turned to Eirlys and blessed her in turn. He did not extend this courtesy to the others.

Haralda folded her arms. “When he was on the phone, he did say the words, ‘Honey, what the… flip… is that you?”

“That doesn’t mean he murdered her,” shouted Saheel. “This is crazy! You can’t just label someone a murderer like that on such spurious grounds!”

“Calm down,” snapped Eirlys, wincing and cupping her ears. “Kari’s trying to get in your head. You said you didn’t kill the Irishman, and I trust your word. Okay?”

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“I can’t possibly imagine Saheel here killing anyone,” said Tarquin. “And Connie is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, isn’t she? Calling us murderers seems to me to be a cheap way for Kari to drag us down to their level, in order to make it harder for the audience to judge them for their crimes. Well, we’re not buying it, are we?”

Saheel sighed. “Okay. Thanks.”

No objection came from Kari, primarily because they had reached the stage of laughter where it became impossible to breathe. They twitched on the ground, face in ecstasy.

Haralda leaned forward to generate a peculiar gravity, as if daring anybody to steal her turn.

MOTION THREE

Haralda said, “Right. We now know there are limits on what we can change. Here’s the sheet of suggestions we completed prior to Greer’s death. I suggest we try to pass them all and see if there are any loopholes that we can exploit.

“Thank you,” said Connie and the rest of them.

“Are there any meaningful objections?” asked Haralda, who had noticeably relaxed as a chairwoman since Beck had disappeared.

Connie glanced at Kari, who of course had raised their hand. Of course they had. She was getting more and more pissed off at their smarmy fucking smile by the minute.

WE ARE NOT HERE TO CHEAT DEATH, said the kid.

Connie put her hand up as she marched towards Kari’s grotty little face. The little fucker was looking down on her. “Man, you’re only saying that because 1) you’ve had a shit life and--”

THIS STRIKES ME AS AN AD-HOMINEM, said Kari, looking down on her. HOW RIDICU—

“NO! You listen to your fucking elders right now, you’re literally ten and I’ve had enough of your bullshit! You don’t understand life, alright? You just don’t! You’re so far off from driving, drinking, getting paid, getting laid, binging on shit TV, going to raves, going to parties, loving, losing, lying awake at night wondering if it’s all worth it, working so hard you forget yourself, saying fuck it and booking a last minute flight to Ibiza, losing yourself, trying drugs, finding yourself, realising you were an idiot last year, every year, but forgiving yourself, putting one step forward every day, until you look back and see how far you’ve come and realised it’s everything, it’s the whole journey, the package of experiences in its entirety, that’s made you happy!”

"…", said Kari, mouth agape.

Connie gasped for air. She hadn’t breathed once during the whole charade in fear that Kari would interrupt her. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in what she’d said, some part of her did, somewhere, but more that no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get the happiness to spring up.

Somebody slow-clapped her. She looked back, and saw Faust had stood up, his expression granite. He nodded.

“Nice speech,” he said. “I wish I saw life like that. Is that… is that really how normal people see it?”

“More or less,” said Saheel. “For me, the important thing is the people you spend it with.”

Connie ran a hand through her hair. “Hit me up when we get out of here, Faust. I’ll take you clubbing.”

He frowned and sat back down, cradling his knees, apparently having said his piece. Would it have killed him to say yes? Now he’d made her look desperate. In reality, her tinder was so flooded that it crashed her phone upon opening.

“Well, then,” said Haralda, brushing down her dress. “I consider Kari’s objection thoroughly overruled.”

Yeah, Connie started to feel a milligram of remorse as she looked at the kid’s expression. It was like their face had just blue-screened. She thought, There’s more to life than revenge, isn’t there, you little shit?

Haralda said, “I’ll run through the suggestions rapidly, then. First: create a perfect clone of Greer.”

7👍 –

“Hang on,” said Connie, reaching out to the frozen Kari’s hand and twisting it up.

7👍 – INVALID PERMISSION

“Very well,” said Haralda, ticking it off her clipboard. “Create a robot with the same personality as Greer.”

7👍 – INVALID PERMISSION

“Hmm,” said Haralda. “Bring the Greer of yesterday into this room.”

7👍 – INVALID PERMISSION

“Well this fucking sucks,” said Connie.

“Resurrect Greer,” said Haralda.

7👍 – INVALID PERMISSION

“Retroactively extend the death word count to 100,000 words and alter reality to match the conditions,” said Haralda.

7👍 – INVALID PERMISSION

Connie’s phone rang, playing the same song she’d put on vinyl earlier. She went red as she rushed to pick it up, just about noticing the number was withheld. Everybody watched her keenly.

“Put it on speaker,” suggested Tarquin.

She pretended not to hear.

“Conneh,” chanted the drunken Scottish man.

“What the fuck do you want?” she whispered.

“Conneh?”

“What?”

“...Stop voting against the spirit of the fuggin rules.”