“Ah! Volunteer de Relevancia! There you are! I have been expecting you!” Colonel Faulkner so greeted as if he were surprised to have happened upon her, even though Antica had been requested to his office once again.

It had been two-ish days or so since their last meeting; Antica was on her third day here, thus. Besides that wandering stroll she had to do on her first day, Faulkner had not spoken to her or given her anything to do since. No doubt, the colonel had been rather busy, indeed…

That door shutting close behind, Antica approached and halted before him, standing with attent. Her mask-obscured eyes, however, peered down at his desk, seeing that a sizable…map of sorts was stretched out upon it as if for display. “I take it, then, that this is relevant?”

The colonel puffed. “Why else would I have placed this so?”

A box, in effect. That was what this map was. A polygonal shape of a large city, squared in by its prominent walls. Due to the similarities to that which her Map and Coordinate System had generated, it was immediately obvious that this was depicting Strawberry. However, compared to her MCS, this primitive map was…admittedly more detailed in a few key ways.

Labeled and seemingly segmented, buildings were depicted with basic detail and streets were clearly demarked; there appeared to be zones of control, likewise, indicated by bold strokes and shaded bars. Judging by the legibility of the text, the map was positioned to be readable from her viewpoint, being upside-down to the colonel’s.

Truth be told, she had to resist the urge to scan it. Although she could easily image without any noticeable indications, she still did not want to do that while Faulkner was right in front of her.

“Fancy sight, aye?” Colonel Faulkner thus spoke; “This came fresh from our cartographers. I had them begin drawing up a proper map as soon as I arrived here… However, they did take quite their time.” He stood himself up, taking a black pointer stick of sorts into hand. “Regardless, here it is, and I wanted to show it to you while I had the time. I wanted your input on something.”

“…my input?” Antica lightly tilted her head.

“Myes. Your input.” Yet Faulkner did not elaborate further. “Though, firstly…” He looked at the map… “I have a better idea.”

Opening a drawer, he retrieved what appeared to be…two sharp ‘pins’ of sorts. Gently taking the map into hand, he proceeded to head for the wall directly behind his desk and pinned the map onto the wall’s softish material from its two corner edges; it was perfectly angled and perfectly even, not even titled.

“Much better…” He returned sight to Antica who remained standing where she was. “Come, come, then.” He gestured, standing off to the left of the pinned map. “Stand where you can see.”

Antica thus went around his desk and stood before that pinned map at a viewable distance, awaiting.

“Now, then… I do not have a lot of time for this, but I do believe a basic comprehension would be fruitful; thus, I expect your fullest attention.” he so stated; “Now, as you can see…” And his pointer thus began to point and demonstrate at the map, words flowing out to match each prod.

Strawberry was fairly straightforward. There were four gates that permitted entrance and departure; two gates, A and C, at the top or ‘north’ and two gates, B and D, at the bottom or ‘south’; there were no gates ‘west’ or ‘east’. From these four gates ran four respective roads, one per gate, which were the largest and widest in the entire city; the two roads of each pair—A and C, B and D—ran diagonally before converging onto a single path that went directly through that restricted box of a center.

Splitting on the way, however, was another road that went around the barriered zone and connected each diagonal road to their parallel other—A to B, and C to D. These two connector roads in conjunction with other streets springing therefrom and intersecting around…ultimately formed somewhat of a ‘ring’ that surrounded the barriered district.

Although the general layout of Strawberry’s was a grid design, these four major roads and their two connectors carved quite the peculiar shape into the city from a top-down view, one that easy to not notice from the ground. And they effectively segmented the rest of Strawberry into a ‘westside’ and ‘eastside’ respectively.

These principal roads acted to guide the experience of anyone entering Strawberry; they largely led to streets and avenues that connected to the most relevant areas for travelers, visitors, merchants, and the like—which happened to be at the center districts or surrounding. Indeed, they essentially controlled what parts of the city casual passerbys were most likely to happen upon. One would have to actively go out of their way to find themself in the…other west and east sides of the city.

Likewise, the center—both within that restricted ‘exclusive zone’ and the ring of hospitality, amenity, commercial, and limited residential districts surrounding it—and the areas directly around and in-between the four major diagonal roads seemed to be where much of this city’s development was concentrated. The remainder of the westside and eastside—everything largely beyond the sight of most inflowing visitors—seemed visibly underdeveloped on this map.

Although such was not to say there was no development. The areas of the westside and eastside closer to the ‘prosperity ring’ were fairly urbanized, being where much of the actual population, particularly those who worked in those very center districts, resided; however, these areas had become…neglected as of late. And the deeper one traversed within the westside and eastside, the worse this neglection became, most especially closest to the walls—mud-paved villages of slums hugged the gateless west and east segments of the walls, essentially.

“Is this all understood, then?” Faulkner thus inquired, his pointer still pricking at the map.

“Yes.” Antica acknowledged. “I was with the focused attention.” It also helped that she had already seen a map of this city priorly… Albeit, granted, this primitive map had exaggerated and emphasized certain details relative to significance, which were either missed or completely underemphasized by her generated coordinate map; those four major roads, for example, had completely diffused with the greater street-network, obfuscating the unique shape they paved into the city…

Hm. Indeed, she truly had to resist the urge to image that map.

“Good.” Faulkner promptly continued on; “Now then, with those basics established…”—his pointer poked the map slightly southeast of center”—“We are here. In the Administrative and Division Headquarters of the United Company.”—his pointer’s tip began to slide—“And the other day, you had most likely strolled yourself through here, all the way to”—the stick landed on the center—“here. The exclusive commercial district.” His eyes looked to her; “What do you notice?”—his pointer’s tip circled—“In this whole surrounding area. What we shall call the…‘prosperity ring’.”

“Ehm…” Antica peered closer… “There are none of those…shaded parts?” Indeed, those shaded boundaries only seemed to be present in what constituted the ‘westside’ and ‘eastside’, nowhere near or around that so-called ‘prosperity ring’.

“Myes. Exactly.” Faulkner thus said, his eyes returning to the map. His pointer shifted, its tip poking at a specific location located deep within Strawberry’s westside, closer to the western wall.

She immediately knew what he was poking at.

“And this right here is where, most likely, the Bureau’s all-so-secretive basement is—one of several possibles within Strawberry, but the one you certainly started from.” Faulkner stated, Antica not bothering to even ponder how he knew that was the specific Bureau safe-bunker she herself had utilized if there were, allegedly, several others.

“From this Bureau’s bird-dwelling,”—his pointer slid north—“You went northwards, edging near the slums, and entered likely these pockets of shaded territory which”—the pointer slid eastwards—“eventually led you through this walkway and cuddle-market wherefrom you were then brought hither.” His eyes relooked at her; “But while you were meandering within”—his pointer circled—“this…area, what did you notice? If you may repeat your observations…”

“Ehm… Well, I was not there for too long, but…” Antica began to recall… “The people there seemed to be with more struggles. Even after I entered what I believed was the ‘proper’ city, this…‘westside’. My presence received antagonistic starings, and…there were those banners and those armband-wearing peoples; wherever they seemed more abundant, the guards were more absent.” she thus recalled; “After I was guided to your company’s headquarters, I stopped seeing those people. And from what I saw in what you call this ‘prosperity ring, they remained absent.”

“Precisely so, precisely so.” Colonel Faulkner’s reply followed his nods.

“I take it that this is…what you may be circling to?” Antica thus remarked; “That these shaded parts of this map indicate…places where those armband peoples are? Thus… Contested?”

“Well… In a manner of speech, essentially.” Faulkner replied; “Though I would hardly say ‘contested’ as much as…areas of warranted observation.”—his pointer struck the map—“these shaded blobs represent…‘zones’ wherein one or several bands of hooligans have more…what I shall call, ‘speaking-power’. While the city guards nominally ought to focus their numbers to these areas, they—”

“Seem to be prioritizing the center…” Antica interposed, interrupting; “I noticed that near the…place I started from, the guards seemed absent. They seemed reduced wherever those armband peoples were but became more…visibly present as I became closer to that ‘prosperity ring’ place.”

“Myes…” Yet Faulkner’s eyes then sharpened. “Observant you are, however, volunteer de Relevancia, I ask that you do not interrupt suchly.”

Antica immediately fixed her posture, tone, and demeanor. “I give sorry, sir.” Indeed, that was highly improper to do to what was technically her superior officer—even if a denizen…

“Regardless,” his attention returned to the map, “yes. The Strawberrien guard’s priority is to keep those hooligans away from the prosperity ring at the very least, and they linger only in the urbanized sections of the west and east sides, never venturing too far.”

“And, respectfully, I take it, then, that…these ‘hooligans’ are the point of this briefing, thus?” Antica…more cautiously…inquired.

“Myes… To a degree. Though, I wanted you to be familiarized with this city firsthand.” Faulkner thus replied.

“Well, I am familiarized.” Indeed, she felt so enough. “Thus, these armband-wearing peoples… Who are they? May you finally tell me? Sir…”

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There was a monetary delay. “Restorationists, so-called…” Colonel Faulkner finally stated.

“Restore-ation-ists…?” Antica noted that label…

“Myes. Restorationists.” Faulkner repeated. “They are a kind of nationalist. One amongst the many various articulations of the same Strawberrien separatism that has existed since before my own great-grandfathers were born.”

“…rightly, that ‘thousand year occupation’ or whatever…” Antica, reflecting, thus recalled… “Strawberry was conquered by Huckleberry a long time ago because of its name and…also because they wanted the food-land… And so, do these restorationists and seperationists… They want to…undo that?” All those readings that she had to, well, read were actually proving useful this moment, it seemed.

“So, you have been doing your studies, then?” Faulkner almost playfully remarked. “Essentially, yes. Although what nominally separates the Restorationists from ordinary separatists is that they want not only Strawberry’s blunt independence, but the, well, restoration of a…greater kingdom of Rosefield that had once dominated the rose plains.”

“Rightly, to…remove this ‘yoke’…” She still did not know what ‘yoke’ was referring to.

“Myes. The authority of Grandberry and the risk of invasions, therefore future oppressors; they want to not only reestablish their kingdom, but also to establish a nation strong enough to resist partition—which is what happened to the old Rosefield Kingdom, according to the histories: it was dissolved by its neighbors.” Faulkner explained.

“I see… And, so, these restorationists, then, are against the…governing authority?” They certainly seemed to be. Normally Antica would not care for such actors, however considering what she had observed of the current authority’s priorities and management, it was…difficult to blame them.

Yet, “Nominally.” Faulkner replied.

“Nominally?” Antica tilted head…

“Myes. Nominally.” And Faulkner just repeated. “The Restorationists, you see… Although they existed before the rebellion, largely as an intellectual experiment as you had read, but due to the food shortage and price inflations, those claiming identification have surged rapidly… They are an empathetic collection, rightfully frustrated and anxious. However, the cusp of their ‘movement’ has always been their grand narrative of independence, to which far too many have prescribed as the magical fix.”

This was not necessarily answering Antica’s inquiry. “So… Are they or are they not… Ehm… What is the word…” She needed to… “Rebellers… Revolters…?” There was as specific word in local tongue she vaguely felt applied, but she had only heard it a few…specific circumstantial times. “To force remove the governing to make…new governing, is that one of their…”

“You are asking if they are ‘revolutionaries’ or akin, I understand it?” There was a…shift in Colonel Faulkner’s demeanor, one subtle but noticeable to her behavior-sensitive sight. “Heaven’s grace… While many have undoubtedly likened the Restorationists to revolutionaries…” There was a twitch to his lip… “They are nothing of sort, besides a collection of hooligans bound by shared flags and a grandiose narrative, with nothing beyond that narrative… While narratives drive all movements, they have no coherent ideology to guide their cause and define their principles, formalizing their convictions…”

Hm… Faulkner was being…rather particularly critical, in a way beyond them merely being a ‘collection of hooligans’.

“Instead, far too much has been rendered to the whims of interpretation and personal fury, leaving their ranks aimlessly absorbing ideas from the streets without filter or stability, following whatever direction pointed…”

Indeed, his voice felt atypically…virulent, Antica noticed.

“They see the contradictions but fail to see the true cause, and while many are not entirely blind to the council’s culpability, many are doubtlessly convinced the solution is empowering the count and restoring his historic power over the city.” Faulkner continued on. “Certainly… They may call themselves whatever they want; fly whatever flag they wish; invoke whatever historic grandiosity or idealisms that inspire; but they are ultimately, in their hearts, reactionaries.” That one word had quite the scathing affect in its utterance.

“…reaction…aries?” Antica lightly tilted her head… Great, yet another word to take note of.

“After all,” Faulkner’s pointer abruptly struck the map, the tip pointing at Strawberry’s westside, “as you yourself had observed, the westside Restorationists seemed far more preoccupied with harassing accents and molesting ears to the keep the elves and their ‘fays’ in their slum-quarters rather than advancing any bettering cause… All due to a few screaming orators doubtlessly endorsed by elements within the burgher’s own council, for blaming the elves is better than they themselves.”

“Hm…” Antica pondered her own thoughts, even though she did not quite know where this was going anymore.

“Ideas, you see,” Faulkner continued forth, his voice relaxing slightly, “are powerful things. For as much as they can enlighten, they can so easily fool. And the first naive mistake is assuming that every differing idea is of equal value, all worthy of validating consideration… When in reality, there are definitive correct ideas and woefully wrong ideas.” he thus stated. “After all, should the idea that fays are responsible for rising prices be seriously considered with any validity?”

“No… That is completely dysfunctional…” Antica murmured aloud.

“Yet such is what half the populace has been convinced.”

“That is because these…‘ideas’ are freely spread without the alternatives, and conclusions are restricted to whatever is available.” Antica, indeed, recalled those orators and their speeches well enough. “Nothing is being done to counter or prohibit.”

“Myes, Strawberry is peculiar in that, no thanks to our own liberalizing influences, so as long as you are not openly supporting the Empire or speaking brazenly against the count’s authority, you are free to loudly express your…literary passions and intellectual pursuits.” Faulkner thus remarked; “A free market for commerce and business; a free market of ideas in which the enlightened shall triumph over the foolish by means of open debate and rational reasoning… Who are we to prohibit and declare what is allowed?” His voice seemed largely rhetorical now.

“Rational?” If it was one thing Antica had long internalized, it was that denizens were everything but ‘rational’. “Peh. Well, they may still be allowed their ‘passions’… But within the locked basement away from the population.” She was unapologetically frank. “The population is not ‘rational’; they are reactive to their feelings, and most are ignorant of what is better for them.”

“Hm.” Faulkner mumbled as if noting her response. “Myes, that is a view… But, as I said, for as much as ideas may fool, they also…enlighten—countering ignorance. However, when enlightenment is viewed as dangerous, only fools seem to spread. Although, there is no true control over this.” He paused for a moment, his demeanor shifting… “It is…funny how this works, these most terrible fires… Always so difficult to contain… Yet all it takes is for one pesky arsonist set the blaze, and the flames spread themselves…” These words spoke as if lamenting, yet it was as if his voice was smirking. “And these reactionaries are a miserable consequence of these flames…who are, by all means, certainly distracting.”

Suddenly, knocks banged at the door. Faulkner’s attention immediately snapped thither as the door swung open, someone stepping in whilst holding the door in place; “[Sorry for the…interruption?]” Why was the colonel showing this woman a confidential map? The interrupter likely mused. However, he ahemed; “[Colonel. They are here. I told fifteen minutes, and they are willing to wait no more beyond.]”

Faulkner stared… “[Well, if that isn’t early…]” He so exhaled; “[Right. Tell them I will be there in ten.]”

Nodding, the interrupter departed, the door shutting closed. Faulkner’s eyes returned to Antica… “Passion begets fervor,” he sighed, “I am terribly sorry, I had become far too…invested and off-trail, and now it seems that we will have to conclude this another time, if ever at all, for time is unaffordable…”

“Well… You wanted this ‘input’, no?” Antica thus mentioned, bringing all of this back to the initiating point. “I can quickly provide it.”

“Hm…” Faulkner cogitated, considering. “Perhaps so…” His pointer thus swung its tip onto the map. “Rightly, quickly then. Restorationists, liberationists, neo-radicalists, whatever or whoever, they are all ultimately in opposition to this company, making them nuisances.”—the pointer struck the shaded blobs—“While they have largely remained in their territories, there have been increasing incidents, both within their territories”—the pointer circled the center—“and, more problematically, now within the prosperity ring. Murder, robbery, general molestation, and all things bad for business; and we seem chiefly targeted.”

“Thus, my input?” Antica prompted.

“As you have undoubtedly noticed, I have observation balloons out and about, concentrated primarily within these most…active areas.” His eyes looked at her. “And I just wanted to know…your thoughts on this approach.”

“My…thoughts?” Antica tilted her head…

“Myes. Your thoughts.” Faulkner repeated.

“Alrightly, I suppose…” Frankly, that was an odd request to be given by her superior officer. Nevertheless, she tuned her focus… “So, what are the…goals precisely?”

“The balloons are present to watch for illicit activities, to keep eye for certain notorieties, and signal when noticing aforementioned activities for disruption. Amongst other responsibilities, I need not detail everything. But their presence is in cooperation with native security.” he explained.

“Hm…” Antica cogitated… “And, so… I may take it, then, that one of the objectives is to…also make it more difficult for these…Restorationists or others to organize, assemble, and operate in the open? To be attentive to…their activities?”

“Hm. In a manner of capacity, yes. Although, it is also a show and reminder.” Colonel Faulkner replied.

“Then…” Antica mused, making her considerations… “I think that it is ineffective.”

“Hm?” Colonel Faulkner raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?” He became interested.

“It is difficult to explain timely.” Indeed, she struggled to summarize it in her own head, “But…” She nevertheless tried… “There are too many blind spots and there is too much of this city to cover with their numbers. Your ballons are like the guards; they seem too focused on the populated areas, leaving big gaps. Also, the restorationists remain openly active.”

“Well, the goal is not necessarily to entirely prohibit their open presence, as much as keep a constant eye for suspicious activities and movements, and to more especially disrupt robberies and other molesting offenses against us and to make the local merchants feel safer.” Faulkner remarked.

“Disruption is another thing, but if monitoring for the precise activities is one of the objectives, then that is the weakest.” Antica stated. “You are relying on the eyes of persons to keep this watch and to accurately infer suspicion. But people eyes are faulty and prone to inaccuracy of perception. There are too many persons in this city, and it is easy for the eyes to become overburdened and miss details, especially since they are in the air; their view is wide, but also imprecise.”

Indeed, Antica did not necessarily find issue with the fundamental concept of mass-surveillance to monitor behavior and activity; the problem was purely technological. While bias and error were inevitabilities, the exclusive reliance on human information processing in absence of any greater instruments or methods to streamline monitoring and tracking on this scale and to increase analysis accuracy…just felt ineffective to her.

“But my ballooners are hardened specialists, sharpest eyes you will find; they can keep track of a character’s dimple from their altitude.” yet Faulkner defended.

“But they are still people with the people eyes that can only focus selectively at a time and have blind spots in the attention.” Antica merely replied; “They also have people brains, and the issue is with the brain and how it reads the vision.”

“Hm.” Faulkner mumbled, listening.

“Your balloons are also overt,” Antica continued, “I easily tracked them from below; they are predictable. These Restorationists or whoever else will be able to also. And they will find ways around your limited watch, such as exploiting the blind spots to move, or orchestrate their activities in areas that are without a presence. But the watching aside, for disruption of activity, there are other approaches that could be better in the long time. Such as…infiltration and inside-dismantling, or soliciting collaborators within their—”

“To clarify, volunteer, I only asked for thoughts, not necessarily alternative proposals…” Faulkner, although noting in mind, nevertheless frankly interjected.

Antica sighed… “Well, those are the thoughts of mine… I am maybe not the best for giving the insights to this.” Indeed, although her domain had given her hefty experiences and potential insights, how much of that could be reasonably applied to primitive matters was…uncertain; they had fundamental limitations that she never had to worry about.

“Hm. Well, would you agree, at least, that having some form of high-watch is preferable to no watch?” Faulkner inquired.

“Obviously…” Antica promptly answered. “Even if the balloons are ineffective in their actual purpose, the…perception that they are watching everyone who is below could still have effect and dissuade the potential for bad activities… It creates a pressure and encourages the…conformity.” she stated. “However, this may not dissuade actions by the committed…or even have the intended effects, since this is speculation.”

“Hm…” Faulkner kept his thoughts and feelings completely ambiguous. “Interesting…” He looked up at the clock above. “Well, fruitful, but I cannot spare another second. That shall be all, then.”

“Alrightly… But is there anything more that you…want me to do, sir?” Truth be told, Antica would prefer being given some kind of order to do…

Yet… “Nothing more than what you have done already, volunteer.” the colonel replied. “Therefore, dismissed.”