“Huh,” said the citizens. “Okay. Like, are you asking about something specific?”

“No, no, no. I don’t even know what the story is here. Maybe if you started talking we’d be able to figure that out together.”

“Most people don’t ask me to talk about anything,” said the citizens. “Well, I guess my job isn’t fulfilling, but I’m not unhappy about it. I never expected my job to be fulfilling. We’re told so often that employment won’t be fulfilling that the surprise would be if it suddenly turned out to be. I’m not happy about it, but I’m okay with it.”

“That wasn’t interesting at all,” I said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

The citizens of King City may have commented further. I hung up, so I don’t know.

I’m not sure what this information does for you exactly, but just know that King City, a city in Monterey County, north of Mexico, south of Oregon, underneath the sky, over a lot of dirt, and then over a different part of the sky, is doing totally fine. Nothing more to report. It’s been a slow day here.

As always, this article contains additional reporting by agents of various unnamed government agencies who have murdered an innocent man they did not know just so that one of their fellow agents, out of contact but with access to a newspaper, will read the man’s name and realize that the name of the murdered man is itself the message.

Jackie held up the two stories. They were identical in every way except the reality they were reporting on.

“This is not encouraging at all,” said Diane.

“Dude.” Jackie meant a lot by that, but she had no other way to say it.

“And this doesn’t help,” Diane said, holding up the photo from Troy’s file.

“Nope. Makes everything worse. I don’t see another car. You need a ride?”

“Yes, please. I walked here. I needed to get my blood pumping for a library trip. But I think I’ve had enough for today.”

“Yeah,” said Jackie. She found there was nothing to add to that, no modifiers or scorn or jokes. So she just said it again. “Yeah.”

Diane studied the photo as Jackie started her car. Every time she looked at it, she could feel her head start to throb. Maybe she did have migraines.

“Can you develop migraines later in life?” she asked.

“Why the hell do people keep talking to me about migraines?”

“You too?”

They shared a confused glance.

“Fine. I don’t care. I don’t need another stupid mystery to solve,” said Jackie.