[b]Dudekov:[/b]

Dudekov keeps his eyes closed at the edge of the bed. “You’re working for them.” He says. “You’ve come alone, you’re feigning shock. I don’t doubt all your credentials check out, that you are who you say you are. I don’t care.” His tongue pushes his lips out from where he pokes against the sides of his mouth in concentration, like a wriggling worm against the teeth of the skull. “I am busy.” 

[b]York:[/b]

York moves along the flower display in the cafe window, thinking. “I don’t think Junta cares for flowers. I just don’t know what else to get him. Maybe a decorative book? Should get him a book about flowers.” He nods, then looks back to Orange. 

“Everyone knows that.” He says as he sits back down at the cafe table. “The Australia thing. It’s one of those open conspiracies, things you can’t officially confirm but we all know. Even if it’s true, who’s left to hang for it?” He shrugged. “Had to build the damn thing somewhere, was always going to collapse - it dropped because nobody cared then, and they don’t care now.” 

“So why do you?” 

Most of the collapse was out into desert, and while the fracturing upon the continent left even huge previously-habitable regions devastated, most people had gotten out from under it in the decades leading up to the fall. The rest were given about as much sympathy as Katrina victims rebuilding their houses on shoreline.