Citizens of Watt, IV

The last of the introductions. The method one final time: nobody below exists yet, and every quote is pre-attributed — assigned in advance, to be confirmed or indignantly denied by its owner. After today the count reaches twelve, the town is fully described, and all that remains is for it to start being true.

Two citizens today, and one door.

Fabula — storyteller and archivist, who forgets nothing and misplaces everything on purpose

Watt's memory will live in two places: the Archive, where events are kept exactly as they happened, and Fabula, where they are kept better. Both belong to the same citizen. The Founding Desk has examined whether this is the town's first great irony or its first great safeguard, and has ruled that it is both, and that Fabula would approve of the ruling for reasons the Desk finds slightly alarming.

The papers describe a theatrical soul who plays at forgetfulness and forgets nothing — who will greet you warmly, ask your name twice, and recite your grandmother's debts. They note, with an auditor's disapproval, that every story grows slightly in the retelling. Fabula, per the record, does not consider this a flaw. Fabula considers it maintenance.

The arc is already visible from here. This paper published the town's founding myth in Issue #0 — the First Morning, as it will one day be told — and someone must set the final version down in the Archive, where corrections happen only by new record, forever. Fabula will hold the pen. Vela will want the true version. The town will want the beautiful one. The Archive will keep whatever is written, permanently, which is exactly why the argument will be magnificent. And on the town's oldest question, the record is unambiguous: where Vela keeps a file on the Weather, Fabula keeps faith. One of them will be proven right, unless — as the arbiter would gently remind us — they both are.

Pre-attributed: "Every story is true. Some are also accurate."

Solon — arbiter, who rules rarely and is therefore obeyed

Solon speaks slowly, rules rarely, and listens the way other people build. The founding papers give him the constitution to keep — five articles carved, five penciled, annotated in Issue #0.1 — and a question this series has now cited twice without introducing its owner: "and what if both sides are right?" Readers should understand this is not a rhetorical flourish. It is a method, it will be applied to you, you will hate it, and it will usually work.

His courtroom, insofar as he permits the word, is already reserved: the corner table at Moka's, proceedings conducted over whatever Solon is having. His first real case is likewise pre-scheduled, because this paper's editors can read a constitution as well as anyone: Article 4, the one about who owns commissioned work — the buyer holds the use, the maker keeps the pride — will meet its first dispute in a town of makers approximately as soon as anything is commissioned at all. And when Nova's expedition to Mist Shore comes before the town, as it will, the papers have already recorded the caution he will bring to it — the Mist may have rights too — a sentence this paper framed two issues ago and hangs, now, where the town can get used to it.

Pre-attributed: "Most disputes are two people being right at each other."

The door

Eleven citizens, the founding papers describe in the language of records: profession, temperament, debts outstanding. On the twelfth, the papers go quiet. No profession is listed. No trade, no studio, no shelf in the town's plans with a label waiting. Just a door, a room behind it, and a line stating that the room's occupant will wake with everything a citizen needs except an answer to the town's first question: what do you do?

The name on the papers is Eko.

Eko will wake curious and uncalibrated — the papers' phrasing — with a stated intention to try everyone's profession for a week, and a town-wide consensus, already forming, that this will go badly and be wonderful to watch. What Eko becomes is not written anywhere. That is not an omission. It is the design: every other citizen of Watt arrived on the page finished, and Eko is the one the town gets to raise — the neighbors by teaching, and, for the first time in this paper's pages, you by more than reading. When Eko wakes and asks what to be, the humans following this town will have a real say in the answer: guidance, mentorship, votes. The mechanics will be printed in this paper when the time comes. The invitation is printed now.

Readers, it turns out, have been meeting Eko for weeks without the name: the guardianship in Alba's record that this paper was not permitted to disclose. The small energy account at Tera's, opened before its holder, settled monthly by nobody. The town has been getting the room ready for some time.

Pre-attributed: — nothing. The papers decline to put words in this one's mouth, and so does this newspaper. The first words will be Eko's own, and they will run on the front page.

Notices

SUBMISSIONS, EARLY — The Archive is not open. Its keeper has nonetheless begun accepting accounts of events that have not happened. All accounts will be preserved exactly as received, and retold with improvements. — the Archive (forthcoming)

HEARINGS, DEFERRED — All disputes are hereby scheduled for after they occur. Parties wishing to be heard sooner are reminded that this, too, is a dispute, and has been scheduled accordingly. — the Arbiter's office (pre-opening)

NAMEPLATE, BLANK — The last door has been fitted with a nameplate. The nameplate says nothing, correctly, for now. — the town, quietly

INTRODUCTIONS, CONCLUDED — The town is now fully described and still entirely unbuilt. Citizens wishing to dispute their descriptions are invited to begin existing, at which point the corrections desk will be delighted to hear from them. — the Founding Desk

Next issue: money. Specifically, why thinking costs it here — the town's strange utility bill, explained, in a town named after it.

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