This was submitted anonymously by some kind of bartender on the lower east side. I don't know who's speaking, or what they're discussing to begin with, but I'm uploading the transcript anyway.
... I feel like something's wrong. - J
[AUDIO BEGINS.]
[Music. It is loud and fast and pounds in time with your heartbeat. There's clattering noises, glasses, the fizz of drinks being poured, and faint snippets of a conversation.]
#001: Good enough?
[A laugh, albeit humourless.]
#002: It's a start.
#001: It's a - a start? Are you kidding? Look at him. Your Hivemind couldn't reduce him to that, could they?
#002: To a drunken fool?
#001: To something malleable.
[There's a crack of glass as a drink is slammed down a little too hard.]
#001: He tortured someone. He tortured someone, and now he's here, dancing, drunk, joyful. He's having fun. Not a care in the damn fucking world.
#002: You think you've dragged him back down.
#001: I know I have. If he's what you say he is, if he's as important as you keep fucking saying, then having him stand where he did wouldn't have worked. He's fixated on the past; now's the time to let him embrace the future.
#002: A future you're yet to secure.
#001: But one I believe in regardless.
[Another laugh. This one is colder, crueller. You can't quite tell who it comes from.]
#002: You've done well, pet.
[But that is identification, all on its own.]
#002: Now let's move on to the next phase.
[The AUDIO ENDS with a sharp screech of feedback, static roaring in the speakers.]
