Yeah, when I was…what was it? The fourth grade? Um…my mom and I got evicted from our house.
CHUCK OCTAGON – Jeff Van Dreason
How did you deal with that?
Um… I don’t…I just remember like, asking my friends, I think, if I could stay with them. And then I remember asking my aunt. And she said “no.”
[Charlie on the MTA plays]
It was like a lot of like…doors being closed on me, but like…we got through it.
MARIO DA ROSA
Previously, in Greater Boston
Cheese robots: his hands.
No! No, not again!
Isaiah went straight to Isabelle’s Red Line apartment. He told her everything. About Dipshit. About the commune. About Wonderland.
Hi, Charlotte? Me and Isaiah need your help.
I’ve met Fake Nica. Why are you messing with her?
I’m not. If I can keep the chase going, that works out for her, because the show is good, and she gets to be the star.
There hasn’t been a grocery delivery in a while.
S3 TITLE SEQUENCE
Want it in character voice or real voice?
Uhh…I’ve lived in Lemonster my whole life
Uhh…I live in Milton, Massachusetts
(That’s where I’m from)
I’m from Dorchester
JEFF VAN DREASON
This week in Greater Boston, Episode 34: The Storm on the Sea of Galilee
[Charlie on the MTA ends.]
[Various robot noises.]
LEON STAMATIS — Braden Lamb
They arrive in the middle of the night, while the trains are shut down for the evening. Some file out of a secret location down the subway tunnel from the Kendall / MIT stop. Others were positioned ahead-of-time inside maintenance closets at a dozen Red Line stations – Inbound at Park Street, Outbound at Andrew, Inbound at Savin Hill, Outbound at Wollaston. They wait for… Wait…Ughh.
[Electricity / cracking noise / snippets of brief DIPSHIT audio montage inside crystal ball environment]
They wait for activation, and then emerge slowly, minimizing their mechanical movement as much as possible. They move steadily into position, into spots where the licensed buskers always performed for would-be commuters in the morning. Then, they promptly power down. For now.
[Robot noises fade out]
A ROOF OVER OUR HEADS
[Red Line environment.]
EMILY BESPIN (INTERCOM BROADCAST) — Sam Musher
Reminder to anyone who participated in the Red Line shutdown: This participation in economic terrorism is a violation of your Red Line Commutity Car contracts. Offending parties have nine days remaining to vacate Red Line. No exceptions, no excuses.
[Noises of various rummaging and packing.]
ISAIAH POWELL — Mario Da Rosa
Does she really think we haven’t heard already? We don’t need reminders three times a day.
OMI OGAWA — Julia Morizawa
She knows. She just enjoys reminding us.
ISABELLE POWELL — Jessica Washington
The more she demands our attention, the less we ought to give her.
We shouldn’t be leaving. This is your home! Why are we letting her take your home?
What am I supposed to do? Have myself a little armed standoff like some midwestern militia taking over a nature reserve? That won’t go nearly so well for me as it did for them, and you know it.
It’s *your* home.
It’s a house. I’ve seen plenty of houses come and go. I’m not getting myself shot for this one. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to just focus on getting all my things into boxes for the time being.
[Box is sealed with tape.]
I’ve got your dishes all packed. What’s next?
If you wouldn’t mind getting a start on the books.
Are you going to be able to fit all this in Isaiah’s apartment?
I got a storage unit. Most everything is going there for now.
So many times, I’ve made fun of my sister for buying a ridiculous over-sized house in the suburbs. Now all that extra space is filled up with my own furniture.
At least you and I have places to fall back on. A lot of folks don’t.
Melissa, Louisa good. This is my friend, Omi.
What did the lawyer have to say?
MELISSA WEATHERBY — Tanja Milojevich
It’s a pretty mixed bag. The contract is very clear about commutity car owners’ obligation to admit passengers. There’s no denying we’re in violation of the contract. We could press a case that the contract itself was improper, but that’s a long-shot.
The good news?
The contract doesn’t state whether evicted residents should be refunded the purchase price of seized homes. It’s shaky, but we can try a class action suit to get evicted residents their money back.
Well that’s good. That’s good, right?
Yeah, if we win, that’s good. But suits like that take years. We’ve got hundreds of people who lost their homes, and won’t have funds to go anywhere else until that money comes back. If it does.
LOUISA ALVAREZ — Julia Propp
My part went more smoothly. I’ve got a good lead on that commune. Gemma had names for some of them from Poletti’s visitor logs. She’s looking for those people right now. Meanwhile I managed to track down a copy of the lease on the property to see who’s name it was in: Particle Physics van der Molen.
“Particle Physics?” That’s a person’s name?
I feel you, but seriously, if we stop to marvel at every oddball name in this group, we’ll spend the whole day on just that.
What about Dipshit?
I’ve got an inside tip that he’s being held somewhere around Kendall Square, but I don’t have an exact location. And without RLPD resources, I can’t exactly arrange a door-to-door search. But I’m meeting Particle Physics in person this afternoon. They want to help anyway they can. If we coordinate with them and their commune, that could be another 16 sets of eyes we’ve got searching.
I’m going with you.
Thank you, Louisa. You’ve done so much for our family.
Hey, I’m happy to have a client. Launching a PI business isn’t exactly easy.
You haven’t even asked for payment.
I’m sure you’ll write me a wonderful testimonial. Besides, Gemma’s a friend, and finding Dipshit is important to her too. And Charlotte would be here herself if she wasn’t buried in obligations for managing the transition. That Vincenzo kid isn’t exactly smoothing the process the way Melissa would have.
I’m sorry. I know I should be there.
No, no, it’s not like that. She just misses you, is all. She knows you’ve got big problems of your own.
And how’s that going, Melissa? Have you found a place yet?
My roommates all have parents and significant others to move in with. I…don’t.
We won’t let you go homeless. We’ll find you a place. Somehow.
I thought about asking Charlotte and Gemma. But I’m worried about getting them in trouble for “harboring a terrorist.”
No, Melissa’s right. I expect Bespin is looking for any excuse she can find to toss the Linzer-Coolidges out with the rest of us.
They’d risk it, Melissa. They care about you.
I don’t want them to take that risk. Not with the baby to worry about.
So what do we do about this?
Well, we keep talking to the lawyer. Build a case.
No, I mean right now? What do we do now? We’ve got hundreds of people about to be homeless. A third of the population of Red Line. Thirty percent of a whole city! And Melissa, I’m sorry, I know you’re in this mess with us, but when it comes down to it folks who look like you will eventually find a landlord to give you a chance. But most of the people getting turned out right now don’t look like you.
If you’ve got ideas, I’m listening. Tell me, how do we stop this?
We don’t. We can’t. The law’s not on our side. Nothing new there. So we’ve gotta change our thinking. We can’t stay here. We can’t all scatter to new homes, because those new homes aren’t waiting for us. And anyway, if we do that, then we’ve got no power. If we disperse, we become invisible. So where can we go? Where can we *all* go? Together.
What are you talking about? Like buy one big apartment building? How would we even do that?
No, that’s idealism, and we don’t have time for that. Let alone money. We can’t buy anything. Apartments aren’t the priority. We need working plumbing and a roof big enough to cover all our heads.
Like a…a warehouse.
Or an abandoned store, like an old Wal-Mart.
You’re talking about squatting.
Hell with squatting. I’m talking about *colonizing.* Fair’s fair, right? We find the land we want, and we take it. We make it ours. And let them try to come push that many people out.
This could be a dangerous plan, Isaiah.
This could be a path to justice.
We’d need to find a place.
We have the place. Louisa, you’ve been there already. What’s to stop us from taking Wonderland?
Uh…I mean, not much, I guess? There’s no one there. They cleared out completely.
Who owns it?
It used to belong to the Bespins, believe it or not. They sold it to Oliver West.
Well, that’s as perfect as it gets, isn’t it? Who’s going to side with West after all this?
Hold up–Emily Bespin sold a theme park to the same man who undermined my mayoral campaign by framing my nephew for terrorist acts?
Yeah…our investigation into the Lottery is bigger than we’ve been able to make public. There were a lot of complications around potentially tainting the investigation before, but now that we’re all private citizens again, Charlotte wants you to know everything. But before that, you also need to know that Oliver West is technically dead.
What? I just saw him at Wonderland. He’s the one responsible for the Dip-napping.
I don’t doubt it, but it looks like he may have done a fancy bit of ass covering paper trail magic, because ding dong? He dead. At least in legal terms. Now, the question is, where does that leave Wonderland? And more importantly, if you were to occupy it as squatters for a long period of time, where does that leave you as rightful owners?
I’m on it. You keep looking for Dipshit. I’ll see what I can track down about the legal status of the Wonderland property.
So we’re agreed? We’re doing this? We get a new home for us *and* for my friends, and we take it right from the people who left us all homeless in the first place?
I’ll help if I can.
I guess so. Yeah.
It seems like it’s your turn, Isaiah. I’m with you.
[Red Line fades out.]
They wait. Commuters and citizens bustle by, paying them no mind. Some drop dollars at their feet. They do not move.
Hey! What the hell?
[Thonk! noise as commuter hits cheese robot].
Many dollars get taken back, a string of curses replacing the previous attempts at generosity. They will not move until they’re ordered to. They wait for the signal. They’ve been programmed with specific — very specific — very specific —
[Electrical / cracking noise — more intense this time]
LEON (Crystal Ball environment)
What’s —? What is — ?
[Robot voices in background]]
DIPSHIT POLETTI — James Capobianco (Crystal Ball Environment)
Please. Please help me.
LEON (Crystal Ball Environment)
Breathe, Mr. Poletti. I’m here. We are in this together.
DIPSHIT(Crystal Ball Environment)
I don’t know where I am.
[Dipshit begins hyperventilating in panic.]
LEON (Crystal Ball Environment)
You are in a lab near the Kendall MIT train station. People are coming to help you. I promise you that. Breathe and focus on what you see. Through your eyes, not in your mind. Stare right into the eyes of your captor. Remember his face. Hold steady. Breathe.
[Dipshit breathes steadily. Electricity noise / cracking sound / whooooshing]
Ughh. Okay. Okay….
They…they have been programmed with specific patience. They are machines designed to control machines. They will control them well, when the time comes.
Occasionally, a busker who used to perform in the spaces they now occupy comes by to spit into their faces or give them the finger or attempt to push them away, always unsuccessfully. As they take the abuse, faint glints of energy flicker in their eyes, as if they’re considering powering up and retaliating. But no. They have their programming. They’ve been programmed for patience. They wait.
I KNOW THAT VOICE
[Michael’s theme plays, unsettlingly slowed down and low.]
It’s um… It’s clear to me that my end is coming. There has been no food delivered in weeks. And, uh…I finished the perishables almost a month ago. I’ve eaten the cereal. The canned soups and um…baked beans. The canned celery. I didn’t know canned celery was an actual thing. It shouldn’t be. Its….
And so many tins of caviar! [coughs] I’d laugh at the irony of rationing gourmet provisions as I starve, but for one thing: caviar is fucking gross. [laughs weakly] But, uh…but I think I could do with some caviar at the moment.
I’m fortunate there’s running water. But. um…
But that only actually gets you so far. I haven’t eaten in days. I…I can’t go much longer. I. I, uh. I can’t go much longer.
Part of me regrets throwing out all that liquor. If I’m dying anyway, what’s uh… what’s the difference? Might as well…Might as well go out happy. Right?
But I’m glad that I did. I know that voice. The one that says having a drink would make me happy. And I know it’s a fucking liar.
Yeah, I’m. Yea. I’m. I’m gonna die. I’m going to die. Fine. Fine. But I’m going to die *sober*.
*That* That makes me happy.
I’ve been writing letters. Farewells to anyone I think deserves one. Which is pretty much everyone. Louisa. Tyrell. Nica. Gemma. Jonas and Wanda. [laughs] Even Dipshit. They all helped me, one way or another. Intentionally or not. I’ve found a tube that goes directly to the post office, and I, uh… I wish I’d found that one sooner. Oh well. Oh well!
In my letters, I’ve told people where I am. And where to find me, and, uh, but, uh… But the letters still have to go through the mail processing. Will they be delivered? Will they be delivered in time? Once received, will the recipients find a way into this sealed apartment in time?
I don’t believe they will. So, uh…
Oliver has quite a stamp collection going in his desk. All of them “Forever,” stamps, in an old design I didn’t recognize. A whole drawer full. Like he went all out the moment and bought a shit ton of Forever stamps were released, so he’d never face another postage hike. Which, honestly is not the worst idea that he’s ever had. So, I borrowed them. Or, I guess they’re mine now. I put one on each of my farewell letters.
Getting from the desk to the pneumatic tubes takes several minutes. Standing is difficult. My legs are wobbly and uncooperative. And my vision is also wobbly. It’s like…goddammit. It’s like being drunk. I pass out several times on my way across the floor. Just like it’s old times. And, uh…
But I get there. I get my letters into a canister. I find the right tube. It’s the one low onto the floor, one I thankfully can actually reach. I manage it. I get the canister into the tube…
[pneumatic tube thoonk]
…and watch it shoot away, out of sight, out into the world.
I did it. I did it. I said goodbye.
They’ll know. They’ll all know.
I love them.
I love them.
Michael! Michael, say something. Please. Talk to me. You need to wake up! Oh, Michael, you look terrible! I haven’t been able to — I haven’t even been able to check on you all this time, ever since the ball — and now — now — now I can? But I can’t access your mind. I can’t tell what’s happened.
Michael. Michael get up. Please.
I…I don’t know what to do.
[A larger hiss of air begins building.]
What is that?
[The hiss builds.]
Something is coming down the tube. Something big.
[The big canister lands in the room.]
It’s the escape canister.
[The big canister lands in the room.]
A big noise wakes me up.
Michael! Michael I’m so glad you’re —
[The canister opens.]
And out steps a person. Someone I haven’t seen in a long time.
I know that voice…
Oh my god.
[Voice resolves into Dimitri.]
DIMITRI STAMATIS — James Johnston
Michael, it’s Dimitri. Dimitri Stamatis.
Dimitri. Oh wow.
[Tosa waltz plays]
How did you know?
Where are we? What are you doing here?
How did you get here?
I’m so hungry.
Yeah, you look it. Hang on, I’ve got some Go-Gurt.
[Michael sucks down some Go-Gurt.]
Alright, how’s that?
There you go. Slowly, your system needs to adjust to eating again. Take a break, and then we can have a little more.
Leon’s brother. You remember? It’s been a while.
I remember. I got your letters.
Did you? I’m glad someone did. Here, have a little more now.
Thank you. Thank you.
Of course. Hey, Michael? I have to ask…where’d you get that painting over there?
It was here when I got here.
You know what that is, don’t you?
It’s a boat. I like it.
Yeah. It’s a little bit more than that.
It’s The Storm on the Sea of Galilee.
It’s nice. I’m thinking of taking an, you know… an art history class. You can have it if you want. The guy who owns it is like…is kind of an asshole.
THAT’S THE BURGER
MALLORY — Johanna Bodnyk
It all starts with me and Dimitri bored on a Thursday, so we decide we’re gonna show each other all the crazy hidey-holes we found around Boston as kids. Like we both knew how to get into the old Park Street tunnels, but there’s so many crazy little places, so we were like, “fuck it, let’s take a tour!” I showed him the old Revolutionary War powderhouse with the loose stone at the bottom that you can pull out. And he showed me his trick for sneaking into the basement of the Natural History Museum, so you can see all the creepy dinosaur skeletons alone at night. And then I showed him the path to the homeless camp out behind Alewife Station.
So then, Scent-Wipe’s all “So what’s the one place that creeped you out the most?”
FAKE NICA — Kristin DiMercurio
I’m sorry…”Scent Wipe?”
Dimitri. That’s his nickname.
Other people call him that too?
Are you sure you’re friends?
Look lady, you want my story, I’ll tell you my story, but if you’re just gonna craptalk my terms of endearment, well you can fuck off back to lighting farts.
I mean, I coulda taken this to my boy Chuck Octagon, but Dimitri specifically asked me to bring it to you, so here I am. But I’ve got Chuck-O on speed-dial, and I could scoot my ass over to 7 News anytime.
Sorry. “Scent-Wipe” it is.
Good. So I tell him about this crazy haunted closet office I saw when I was a kid, and he’s like “cool, let’s go check that shit out.” Only he says it more like “let’s investigate that anomaly dear chap,” but that’s just because he got his dick stuck in one of those old-timey “Great White Explorer” imperialist murder diaries.
Slightly more British than I remember him, but otherwise, I know what you mean.
So anyway, there’s this abandoned Japanese restaurant on Vassal Lane that I used as a hideout when I needed to get out of Dodge as a kid. But this one time, I go down into the basement, you know, just to see what’s what down there. Lots of rats. Cool place. So but then I notice a light under a door at the very back. And like, the place is run down, falling apart, except for this one door. It’s way newer and has a serious lock on it. And I hear rustling around behind it.
So I get brave, cuz I’m just a fuckin’ kid, right? I knock on the door, ask who the fuck-all is in there. And I hear some movement, and then the light goes out. I don’t hear anything after that. So of course I pick the lock and crack that fucker open. Inside is an office, with a desk and a chair, and a flower vase full of celery stalks. I don’t know what that was about, but everyone’s got their kink, right?
But like…that’s it. Nobody’s home. But there’s only the one door, no other exit. And that freaked me the fuck out, and I skedaddled my ass outta there and haven’t gone back in years.
So anyway, that’s where I take Dimitri. The office is ransacked, like someone packed up in a hurry. there’s still celery in the flower vase—its some wilty mold-barf looking shit, but still recognizably celery. So someone’s been here only weeks ago. We start poking at everything. Like, I may have thought it was some kind of ghost when I was a kid, but now I know there’s gotta be a secret door or some shit. We check the back wall, we check the little book case, nothing. But then I check that weird-ass vase, and as soon as I move it…
[Click. Door opens.]
[Scottish surf music plays.]
…there’s a click, and we hear something open. But where? Dimitri gets down on his hands and knees, and crawls under the desk for a look, and holy fuck, there it is! A little door only as big as the space under the desk. We have to crawl into it.
That goes into a tunnel, kind of like we’re in an air duct, but sturdier. It’s a huge pain in the ass. Like, if I were designing a secret tunnel for myself, I’d sure as fuck make it tall enough that I could stand up, but whatever.
At the end, there’s another door, but this one has a button next to it. We press it, and immediately hear machinery.
After a few minutes, the door splits and slides open. Like…it’s a fucking elevator. With a tiny-ass door, like some Willy Wonka and the Acid Factory bullshit. But tiny as the door is, the elevator is normal size.
Now, there’s only one button, so I hit it. [Elevator] The elevator kicks into gear, and we’re heading straight down. A TV screen kicks on, one on each wall of the elevator, with like news feeds, and stock prices, and astrology predictions, and one channel that’s kind of like the puppy bowl, but with guinea pigs. I like that one, but all-in-all, this is out of Willy Wonka and into some straight-up Bond villain crap.
So I’m like “Scent Wipe, if shit goes down, I hope you know how to put your fist into a face.” But he’s all “oh no, dear Mallory, I’ve never been one for fisticuffs–I live by my wits!” So like, obviously that dude’s living on borrowed time already. But I like the fart-brained doofus, so I brace myself to try to keep us both alive if this place is full of ninjas or killer robots or whatever.
[Elevator stops and opens]
It’s like another ten minutes before we hit bottom and the back of the elevator opens up. It’s completely dark, which means there’s probably nobody here. But as we step out of the elevator, the whole place lights up, like we’ve tripped a motion sensor, and whole tiers of lights start kicking on, one at at time, shooting back through this huge warehouse-looking space.
[Powerful lights power on, receding into distance.]
In one corner is like a bed and a stove and a desk, like someone’s been living down here. In another corner there’s like all this animal equipment–cages, and tubes, and feeders, like everything you’d need to keep and breed a whole lot of guinea pigs. No guinea pigs though. Most of it wouldn’t even be salvageable, like the bedding’s all mildewy, and the cages are rusted and falling apart and just waiting to give some poor little guy an assload of tetanus.
So then we start working our way down the aisles. It’s all shelves, full of crazy shit. Buckets of watches. Antique vases. Old stereo equipment. And two whole rows of nothing but paintings. And Dimitri’s like “Mallory I know this shit! This shit’s all stolen!” Only he says it more like “Dear Mallory, I’ve identified these curious items which we’ve subjected to our inquiry, and am quite certain that they are purloined goods, one and all!”
So that’s where he found the missing Rembrandt? The Storm on the Sea of Galilee?
Jesus and a barfing sailor hanging out on a boat? No. But that’s where all the rest of them were. So then Dimitri gets distracted, matching stolen paintings to all the unsolved art heists that he’s memorized for some reason. I keep going, and that’s when I find the weirdest thing yet–the giant tube. The thing is nuts—this huge pipe with a man-sized canister in it. The canister’s got a built in chair, but it’s upside down. And there’s a door in it.
I call Dimitri over to have a look, and he’s like “You know what that is, Mallory?” And I’m like, “yeah, duh, I know what the fuck that is, Scent Wipe. It’s a giant pneumatic tube.” And he’s all “Yes, quite.” And then he’s all like “whelp—catch you later.” And I’m like “Dude—you’re not just going to sit your ass in that creepy ass chair and flush yourself into who knows what?” And he’s all, “Mallory—that’s what I do. That’s like…my whole thing.” And okay, yeah, that’s true, or he wouldn’t have this stupid-ass TV show that he’s not actually on. But even so, he can’t even prepare for the possibility of what might be on the other side of this thing, assuming it doesn’t just launch him straight to the bottom of the sea or something. And he’s all “Mallory–I’ve already *been* to the bottom of the sea. And it was *fine.* And then he climbs in, which isn’t easy, since it’s upside down, and he needs to get himself situated with a harness to hold him to the chair. And he’s all “Mallory, could you give me a hand with this?,” but I tell him no way, if he wants to to do stupid, then he’s gotta do his own stupid, I’m not doing his stupid for him. But he manages anyway, then closes the door, smiles, waves, and hits the button on the arm of the chair. Then “THOOONK.” [THOOONK] He’s gone.
An hour goes by before the tube starts hissing again, and the canister comes back.
[Canister returns. Door opens. Michael falls out.]
But when I open the door, it’s that dweebus Michael Tate who falls out. And he’s got that painting of Sailor Jesus rolled up next to him. We wanted to send the canister back for Dimitri, but the controls are only on the inside, and you can’t do anything until the door is closed. So we had to make other arrangements to get Dimitri back out.
And where’s Dimitri now?
Right, like I’m gonna tell you. This is all you get, lady. A sighting and a story. Suck it up or shit it out, but that’s the burger.
Well, there you have it folks. Dimitri Stamatis remains one step ahead of our investigation, but still finds time to solve the mystery of the 1990 Isabella Stewart Gardner museum heist.
Thank you for joining us on Inexplicable Riddles: The Hunt for Dimitri.
Charlotte and Gemma were heading to Isabelle’s rail home to help plan the Exodus. They walked through the revamped pedestrian walkway above Cedar Grove station and waited for the right train. Commuters and citizens sailed around them, seeming like they were especially hurried. A few feet away, a busker stood perfectly still, a living statue spray-painted with silver and chrome.
CHARLOTTE LINZER-COOLIDGE — Summer Unsinn
Can we go on a date soon?
GEMMA LINZER-COOLIDGE — Lydia Anderson
It’s been a while since we did that, huh?
Feels like forever.
Would you prefer before or after I attempt to illegally rescue my former nemesis from the clutches of my former boss and current nemesis?
After. After I know you’re safe.
Charlotte reached into her purse. She felt a — felt a — felt —
[Electric shock / cracking noise]
DIPSHIT (CRYSTAL ENVIRONMENT)
I can’t — I can’t think. I can’t take much more of this.
LEON (CRYSTAL ENVIRONMENT)
Mr. Poletti. Breathe. Think of a specific moment and concentrate. Try to move to it in your mind.
DIPSHIT (CRYSTAL ENVIRONMENT)
There’s — there’s too much noise, too much to know where to — how to —
LEON (CRYSTAL ENVIRONMENT)
Let me show you something specific. The day you had a seance at ThirdSight. Do you remember? You tried reaching out to communicate with me and you were successful. I contacted you via pneumatic tube, a residual spiritual connection leftover from the presence of the very crystal ball you’re being forced to come into contact with now. This action alerted the publisher to my presence and he ordered the ball recovered. Then he used it for his own nefarious purposes. You are not approaching insanity. This is real. This is happening. Remember that moment, sitting in Third Sight’s uncomfortable office chairs.
DIPSHIT (CRYSTAL ENVIRONMENT)
Yes…yes…The seance. [Laughter] Knock three times.
LEON (CRYSTAL ENVIRONMENT)
Good. You’re doing very well.
[Electricity noise / cracking sound. Dipshit’s overlapping monologue montage goes silent].
I — this is getting more challenging to — to …keep straight. Ugh.
Charlotte reached into her purse. She felt a sudden impulse to tip the busker, to force the human statue into movement. Having it still in that moment felt wrong, especially with her silent concerns about Gemma’s involvement with the proposed rescue. As she watched the busker, the busker also watched her. And recorded her every move.
[Train pulls in]
There’s Isabelle’s train.
There’s no hat. There’s no — no place to tip.
Charlotte! Charlotte, get away from that thing. That’s — that’s one of them. The cheese robots.
Come on! Into the train, now!
THE EXODUS PROCLAMATION
[Red Line environment]
Isabelle Powell’s rail home was crowded with people and plans, blueprints and maps, opinions and arguments. This small band of outsiders and strangers, refugees and reformers, commune members and would-be legislators huddled together; their numbers swelling all the time. They had two objectives, a rescue mission and a colonization. While it was getting increasingly difficult for them to successfully merge those plans, one thing was perfectly clear. If they expected people to follow them, they needed to give them time to prepare. People in Red Line were about to get evicted. People were scared. People needed hope.
And so, Isabelle took control of Red Line’s intercom to issue a bold proclamation.
People of Red Line. This is Isabelle Powell. In a matter of days, some of us are going to be dragged out of our homes and escorted from the stations, left stranded and alone, abandoned by our city, forsaken by Red Line’s leadership, by some of our neighbors even. And for what? Because we spoke up, because we stood out, because we said ‘no.’ No more. Because we pointed out an obvious truth. That truth being that some of us are treated like second class citizens. And how does Red Line respond? Red Line, under Emily Bespin’s leadership, confirms our suspicions and shoves us out the door. We always knew we were unwanted, and the blatant inequity was our argument the entire time. Bespin could have worked towards proving us wrong, but instead, she’s telling us all what we already know. To her, and to others like her, we were never welcomed here. They’ve known what we’ve been telling them the entire time. They know about the inequality, inequity, the racism, the classism, the division shaking Red Line right down its middle. And they simply don’t care.
[Aggressively up-tempo music]
They thought they could ignore us. After we made sure they couldn’t? They try to get rid of us.
Well if I leave, it’s gonna be on my terms. I wouldn’t blame you if you’ve lost faith in me as a leader. Those of you who’ve backed me have risked everything for the sake of justice. But justice doesn’t keep you warm at night or put a bed under your head. These days, justice is dangerous. Justice is an adventure.
In a day or two, I am going to leave Red Line with my own free will before Emily Bespin has the satisfaction of dragging me out, barely hiding her blatant racism under the guise of protective legislation. And I’m going to a place with enough room for all of you. A place where all of you will have a voice, have a say in how things get done. A place where we can plan how we’re going to take back OUR Red Line and make sure that it becomes the promised land I still believe it can be.
Wait for my signal. The next time you hear my voice, I will tell you the name of our new temporary home.
Citizens of Red Line, this is not an eviction. This is an exodus! And if you continue to put your faith in me, I promise you — I WILL lead you home.
[Music fades out.]
[Scottish surf music]
JEFF VAN DREASON
Greater Boston is written and produced by Alexander Danner and Jeff Van Dreason, with recording and technical assistance from Marck Harmon.
You can follow Greater Boston on Twitter @InGreaterBoston or on Tumblr at GreaterBlogston.tumblr.com. Follow us there for news, updates, and behind the scenes chat about the show!
Thank you to Patreon supporters Bridge and Rasmus! You to can support us on Patreon at http://www.Patreon.com/greaterboston!
This Episode featured
- Braden Lamb as Leon Stamatis (he/him)
- James Capobianco as Dipshit Poletti (he/him)
- Sam Musher as Emily Bespin (she/her)
- Mario Da Rosa Jr. as Isaiah Powell (he/him)
- Julia Morizawa as Omi Ogawa (she/her)
- Jessica Washington as Isabelle Powell (she/her)
- Tanja Milojevich as Melissa Weatherby (she/her)
- Julia Propp as Louisa Alvarez (she/her)
- James Oliva as Michael Tate (he/him)
- James Johnston as Dimitri Stamatis (he/him)
- Johanna Bodnyk as Mallory (she/her)
- Kristin DiMercurio as Fake Nica (she/her)
- Summer Unsinn as Charlotte Linzer Coolidge (she/her)
- Lydia Anderson as Gemma Linzer-Coolidge (she/her)
and additional voice by Vilte Baliutaviciute
Charlie on the MTA and Tosa Waltz by Emily Peterson and Dirk Tiede
Shove that Pig’s Foot a Little Farther in the Fire by Adrienne Howard, Emily Peterson, and Dirk Tiede
Scottish Surf by Dirk Tiede
Tam Lin set — comp. Davey Arthur, Amy Cann, and Liz Donaldson, and performed by Dirk Tiede
Broke Yeti by Ryan Estrada
Transcripts available at GreaterBostonShow.com
Let’s take that again. That’s a little wei…it’s a little weird to feel.
There you Go-Gurt.
You know, I’m trying not to laugh at Go-Gurt.
There you Go-Gurt! I almost lost it.
Yeah, what was the…it’s like: “how’s that?” (gravelly voice:) go-gurt. It’s like…ah…alright.
GO-Gurt dummy. It’s can only be as good as you think it’s gonna be. It’s just…flavored cream shoved into a tube.
This is very strange.
Why do we do this to kids?
The Go-Gurt gone wrong.
Instant bellyache, I think.
I like…I like thick yogurt. Like, I get the real Greek yogurt that’s like…
So do I, but I don’t know…
You could sculpt it.
…there’s something different about it coming…
In a tube.
You expect something more drinkable.
At least you don’t have to look at it. With Go-Gurt.
I guess that’s true.
Like the Trix rabbit, right? Where it’s like the Trix yogurt, where it’s purple and yellow. Ah! The two colors of yogurt!
Let’s see if we’re recording that, so we can advertise to the Patreon that we have a whole discussion on…
…yogurt and Greek yogurt.
It’s like yogurt…on the go! Oh, I, wait, I just got that!
- Strong Language
- Ominous Cheese Robots
- Impending homelessness
- Depictions of panic/distress
- More Ominous Cheese Robots
- Institutional racism
- Alcoholic rationalizations
- Appearance of death
- Uh oh, Cheese Robots!