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hello Ella

it is Friday 5:24

recording Audio from Macrophone One

audio assistance Off

Hi Willow. I'm sorry that I haven't responded to your message until now. The recording you sent me came through a week ago, I just haven't really had the time. I liked hearing your story about Seeke, with the oranges and the food processor. I thought that that was funny. But seriously, I hope that he gets his finger reattached properly, and not backwards like they did last time. And that your processer getting fixed isn't too expensive. They really need to do something about the bite strength of some strains of oranges. Let me know how the campaign goes. Well, I'll end up seeing on the net – but tell me about the behind the scenes. If you can? It's definitely weird to me how you ended up higher than the ranks than I did in about two years. Domestics is just a slow way to climb, I suppose.

The past month has been interesting. It's been... disappointing, to be honest. I came off of a high when we closed the case on the counterfeiting ring I talked about when we last spoke. If you can call this speaking. It was a treat to work with an old hat like Luhman, and he's partnered with a rookie these days. I liked the dynamic. We all learned from each other, I think, and it was nice feeling like part of an actual working machine again. And his office – oh my Jesus! He's got his own library and a whole sitting area in there. Not to mention two real wood desks! Being able to look at files on a coffee table was something else. Caradoc sat in the corner most of the time. I guess he didn't like them much. He's usually talkative to me, but I don't know. Something mustn't have sat right for him. It wasn't like I minded the silence on his part...

Joining with another pair of Inquisitives after only working with Caradoc for the last month was a welcome change. He can get grating. You haven't spoken much about your own experience with Psionics, but to my understanding the ones that end up in Domestics are deemed... unsuitable... for higher positions. Isn't Seeke's brother one? You probably see a lot at the top of the Washington Cradle anyways. I hear the Psychitecture there puts out some of the highest scoring of the lot. Unfortunately, I don't think I can say the same about down here in California. Caradoc is eccentric, even for one of them. I can never seem to read him – I guess they get trained to be like that. But I don't like knowing that he probably has much more of a read on me than he lets on. The seeing-eye that follows him around gives me the creeps. I've seen a couple others around – I assume all the PSY.'s have them. They never explained to me the intricacies of it when they partnered us up, and I never bothered to ask him either. The drone he has – it has to be an outdated model or something, but he refuses to change it out. It smells vaguely like unwashed socks. The eyelid sheet it's supposed to have must have come off, because it never blinks. It just stares right through you with an bright blue iris. That's something that really pisses me off for no apparent reason. There is no way that man would have blue eyes. No-one has seen someone with blue eyes for about half a century. So why on earth would they make a dumb robot that is clearly supposed to look like an eyeball have a dumb blue iris! I mean, for Christ's sake. Fuck. Sorry, Willow, I'm really just. I'm so sick of being in California. And his dumbass is just the icing on the damn cake.

I thought that he'd be better on a case we could actually do something with. I thought he'd be better if there were other people around to help me keep him in check. I honestly thought he was, for a while. Everything was so smooth when he stayed out of things. We'd found all we needed – names, evidence, meeting places – so Luhman and I planned a sting on where they were doing the Calcite stamping. Luhman's a known face to about every criminal in California, as well as a about half the western Cradles, so he couldn't head in. And having a PSY. in there wouldn't have gone well, for obvious reasons. Like I said, Caradoc didn't seem to mind at the time, so there was no way I could have predicted what he'd do. They were set up in an old storage block on the balcony overlooking our Awning 2. Just me and the Guia – the rookie girl – would head in there undercover. Pick out where they were doing the stamping, then buzz for Luhman to come in with his Valiants. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't clean, but in half an hour we had them eating right out of our palms. Guia was a natural undercover, which is something you really wouldn't expect for a new domestic. We were so close to being shown what we needed. There was a nasty piece of work there with a carbonic arm who'd taken a liking to the rookie girl, and he was just about to take us through to the back. Seconds. Seconds before we got through the doorway. That smug face came barging through the door, his stupid seeing-eye trailing behind him. His mouth was moving, but I couldn't catch what the moron was yelling because I was so angry I think my vison actually went red. Guia took a point-blank phys shot to her side from one-arm the moment he strode in. There was another that quite literally blasted the bun loose from the top of my head. I could've sworn the trajectory was right at me – that's how close it was. And Caradoc's so fucking lucky that when I felt myself get pumped full of adrenaline it wasn't him that I ran right for. What a shitshow he caused. What a kick he must have got out of that show of power. It was the first time I'd seen it, but I'd heard about it before. But being there was so different than I ever would have thought. He was throwing things around the room like toys, without touching them. The air felt like it was charged. I saw that, and all I could think of was a baby thrashing about. Throwing a tantrum. He knocked one down early on when he flung the countertop across the room. I took the man's gun. I didn't bother shooting him because his whole chest was caved in from the impact. Then I just kept firing until Caradoc stopped smashing things around. I think for the first time in my life, I didn't know what to say to him. In that moment, I realised how much I've hated him since we met. I buzzed in Luhman and told him what had happened. So much of me wanted – no, needed – him to have it out at Caradoc. Instead, he grabbed Guia in his arms and barked at me and the PSY. to secure the place. We did that. They'd abandoned the printing presses after they'd heard the shootout next door. So, we closed to case on the ring, but Caradoc made sure we didn't find out who was running the whole thing. One-arm got away from us, which will only piss off Guia more after I tell her. She's still recovering in central right now. Luckily no vertebrae were hit. I think that I'm angrier about it than she is. It's only a matter of time before the next one pops up, ran by the same fucking person, because the biggest load of shit in my life couldn't keep his cool for forty-five ticks.