*comment ñáéç…—
*hide_reuse
*advertisement
*set debt_check false
*set wealth +(income*4000)
*temp the_preacher "the preacher"
*if merodach_discourse
	*set the_preacher "Merodach Ross"
*if flirting_with_chiara
	The next evening, you fire off a note to Chiara Santagostino immediately upon waking. Franklin departs, his hand pressed against the pocket that holds your missive.

	He returns too soon, shaking his head.  The Senator has already departed the city, prudently fleeing the outbreak of the yellow fever.

	You sigh.  It will be some time yet before you will be able to be alone with her.
	*if memphis_affair
		At the moment, however, Clotho takes priority.  The day has seen her take a turn for the worse.
		*page_break
		*goto resolve_clotho
*elseif memphis_affair
	When you awake the next evening, you find that Clotho has taken a turn for the worse.
	*page_break
	*goto resolve_clotho
*elseif jesse_rapport > 40
	When you awake the next evening, you are @{(jesse_rapport > 60) delighted|surprised} to find a letter from Jesse waiting for you.
	
	Opening it, you quickly ascertain that he had intended for the letter to reach you before the caucus. @{literate In the letter,|As Franklin relates,} Jesse describes how he came to conclusion that there was chance for him to succeed, and given the dangers around the fever, he saw no reason to put himself at risk.
	
	The letter is postmarked three weeks ago from Raleigh, North Carolina.
*goto new_election

*label resolve_clotho
*if wealth <= 10000
	*if religious_tradition = "catholic"
		The friar—wreathed in a smothering cloud of incense—closes the door behind him.  When he meets your eyes, he shakes his head gently.  You fight back tears; right now is not the time to have to explain why blood would be running down your face.
		
		A whole group of his order had come to town to tend the sick, and you were able to persuade him to come call upon Clotho.  You resist the urge to take out your fury on his face.  Instead, you seek his permission to go to her.
	*elseif (religious_tradition = "pagan")
		The smell of smoldering willowbark follows the shaman as he exits the sickroom.  When you look in his eyes, you know that soon her shadow will start its journey to the west.

		You thank him for coming to see her; it was a long journey for him.
		*goto your_condition
	*elseif (religious_tradition = "reformed")
		The missionary closes the door behind him.  When he meets your eyes, he shakes his head gently.  You fight back tears; right now is not the time to have to explain why blood would be running down your face.
		
		Normally a teacher at the Clay Street school, he and the other Republican missionaries have done their best to tend to the ill these past few weeks.  You resist the urge to take out your fury on his face.  Instead, you seek his permission to go to her.
	*else
		*bug
*else
	*set wealth -2500
	The doctor closes the door behind him.  When he meets your eyes, he shakes his head gently.  You fight back tears; right now is not the time to have to explain why blood would be running down your face.
	
	Considering how much you had to pay him to brave the fever, you're tempted to take his failure out on his hide.  Then the bloodtears wouldn't matter.  But you resist your baser urges and seek his permission to go to her.

He nods sadly.
*label your_condition
*page_break
Clotho does not push you away when you approach; she knows that she cannot hurt you.

Looking down at her, you study her wasted frame.  She opens her eyes and smiles up at you.

"There is a way, my love…" you begin.  You have made this argument before.
*if afflicted_vicksburg
	Of course, you drinking the blood of one who is ill…could she turn out like ${wilson}?  Or is he a freak of nature?  Perhaps the two things have nothing to do with each other.  But if they do…to what greater hell could you condemn the one that you love than to turn them into a beast that not only feeds to sustain itself, but spreads the plague with every bite?

She shakes her head weakly.
*choice
	#I plead with her to reconsider.
		*set compassion %-20
		Her hand, weak though it is, presses on your breast and holds you at bay.  "Remember me, ${given_name}."

		"Remember you?  Let me make you like me.  You will live forever.  We will live forever.…"

		"Remember me," she wheezes, "…and I will live as long as you do."

		With that, she closes her eyes and lets go.
		*label clothos_funeral
		*page_break
		The burial is a simple affair.
		*if priest
			You take it upon yourself to officiate. @{(rationalism > 75) You try not to dwell on what it means for a man of the cloth to officiate over the death of his lover; that is, you suppose, between you, your confessor, and the Lord Almighty.|}
		*elseif religious_tradition = "catholic"
			A priest from St. Anne's officiates.
		*elseif religious_tradition = "reformed"
			A pastor from a local church officiates.
		*elseif religious_tradition = "pagan"
			Despite your own preferences, you invite a priest from St. Anne's to officiate.
		*else
			*bug
		Other than Franklin, there are no other guests.

		Finally alone, you look down at the simple marker.  [i]Memento Mori[/i] is all that it reads.
		*if jaundiced

			By the next night, your skin and eyes have returned to normal.
			*set jaundiced true
		*page_break
		*goto new_election
	*if afflicted_vicksburg
		#I turn her into a vampire against her will; damn the possibilities!
			*set compassion %+20
			*set discretion %+10
			When she sees you bending down, she begins fighting you with all the strength that she can muster.  When your fangs slip into her desiccated neck, however, she relents.  You drink, but the blood is thin and comes out in spurts, rather than the deep well of life to which you are accustomed when drinking from her.  It does not take much effort to bring her to the edge.
			
			Once there, you offer her some of your own.  The blood touches her lips, which she does her best to purse.  
			*page_break
			*if compassion >= 65
				The next evening, Clotho takes yet another turn for the worse.  Blood begins to seep from her pores while she moans from the pain in her joints, much as the fever did to you before.  You are somewhat prepared, however, and have mortals standing by, ready to satiate her thirst.  She is insensate, however, and though you pour blood down her throat, it does nothing to improve her condition.

				As the nights go on, she only slips further away.  By the third evening, she no longer responds to stimuli; her belly grows distended by the blood that must be pooled there.  By dawn, the blood has even stopped seeping out of her orifices.
				*goto clothos_funeral
			*comment *elseif (ethnicity = "african") or (compassion >= 45)
				*comment this is the result of racist medical literature being passed down unquestioningly, even to and through me.
				*comment *set bloodsweats true
				*comment Much like before, the next night finds you abed with the bloodsweats.  Thankfully, the pain and delirium is not as severe as previously.  Nevertheless, the room soon stinks of iron.
				
				*comment Clotho has the worse of it, though.  Like you, blood seeps from her pores and orifices.  Unlike you, however, she is clearly wracked by the pain in her joints.  You are somewhat prepared, however, having instructed Franklin to gather individuals from which the two of you could feed if you in fact fell ill.  Unfortunately, the plague outside your door does not make his job easy, and you find yourself watching as Clotho slips further and further away.

				*comment By the third evening, she no longer responds to stimuli; her belly grows distended from the blood that must be pooled there.  By dawn, the blood has even stopped seeping from her orifices.
				*comment *goto clothos_funeral
			*else
				*set afflicted_memphis true
				*set bloodsweats true
				*set jaundiced true
				The next few nights are pure torture; perhaps even worse than before.  After all, you know enough to be afraid.  A fever takes hold of you—the first since your death—ravaging your body while pains shoot through your joints.  You sweat blood profusely.  Franklin brings you individuals from which to feed—as many as he dares—but nothing seems able to satiate your thirst.

				Hallucinations accompany the fever; you lose track of your whereabouts except for the hand of Clotho, which you continue to clutch through both night and day.  Though you are unaware of it at the time, your skin and the whites of your eyes turn yellow as well.

				Unfortunately, the delirium prevents you from noticing when Clotho's grip no longer responds.

				While you are insensate, Franklin is forced to make a decision: no amount of blood seems to aid Clotho, whereas your health is improved by feeding.  Limited by circumstances, he abandons further attempts to feed her.  Two nights after her conversion, she stops responding to stimuli.  By the third night, no further evidence of her undeath could be ascertained.

				It is two nights yet before you are recovered enough to take stock of your surroundings.  Franklin watches over you as you sob over Clotho's body.  You curse his name and his parentage, but thankfully he ignores your outbursts.
				*goto clothos_funeral
	*if bloodsweats and (afflicted_vicksburg = false)
		#I turn her into a vampire against her will.
			*set compassion %+20
			*set discretion %+10
			When she sees you bending down, she begins fighting you with all the strength that she can muster.  When your fangs slip into her desiccated neck, however, she relents.  You drink, but the blood is thin and comes out in spurts, rather than the deep well of life to which you are accustomed when drinking from her.  It does not take much effort to bring her to the edge.
			
			Once there, you offer her some of your own.  The blood touches her lips, which she does her best to purse.  
			*page_break
			*if compassion >= 65
				The next evening, Clotho takes a turn for the worse.  Blood begins to seep from her pores while she moans from pain in her joints.  You are somewhat prepared, however, and have mortals standing by, ready to satiate her thirst.  She is insensate, however, and though you pour blood down her throat, it does nothing to improve her condition.

				As the nights go on, she only slips further away.  By the third evening, she no longer responds to stimuli; her belly grows distended by the blood that must be pooled there.  By dawn, the blood has even stopped seeping out of her orifices.
				*goto clothos_funeral
			*elseif (compassion >= 45)
				*set bloodsweats true
				Much like before, the next night finds you abed with the bloodsweats.  Thankfully, the pain and delirium is not as severe as previously.  Nevertheless, the room soon stinks of iron.
				
				Clotho has the worse of it, though.  Like you, blood seeps from her pores and orifices.  Unlike you, however, she is clearly wracked by the pain in her joints.  You are somewhat prepared, however, having instructed Franklin to gather individuals from which the two of you could feed if you in fact fell ill.  Unfortunately, the plague outside your door does not make his job easy, and you find yourself watching as Clotho slips further and further away.

				By the third evening, she no longer responds to stimuli; her belly grows distended from the blood that must be pooled there.  By dawn, the blood has even stopped seeping from her orifices.
				*goto clothos_funeral
			*else
				*set afflicted_memphis true
				*set bloodsweats true
				*set jaundiced true
				The next few nights are pure torture.  A fever takes hold of you—the first since your death—ravaging your body while pains shoot through your joints.  You sweat blood profusely.  Franklin brings you individuals from which to feed—as many as he dares—but nothing seems able to satiate your thirst.

				Hallucinations accompany the fever; you lose track of your whereabouts except for the hand of Clotho, which you continue to clutch through both night and day. Though you are unaware of it at the time, your skin and the whites of your eyes turn yellow as well.

				Unfortunately, the delirium prevents you from noticing when Clotho's grip no longer responds.

				While you are insensate, Franklin is forced to make a decision: no amount of blood seems to aid Clotho, whereas your health is improved by feeding.  Limited by circumstances, he abandons further attempts to feed her.  Two nights after her conversion, she stops responding to stimuli.  By the third night, no further evidence of her undeath could be ascertained.

				It is two nights yet before you are recovered enough to take stock of your surroundings.  Franklin watches over you as you sob over Clotho's body.  You curse his name and his parentage, but thankfully he ignores your outbursts.
				*goto clothos_funeral
	*if (afflicted_vicksburg = false) and (bloodsweats = false)
		#I turn her into a vampire against her will.
			*set compassion %+20
			*set discretion %+10
			When she sees you bending down, she begins fighting you with all the strength that she can muster.  When your fangs slip into her desiccated neck, however, she relents.  You drink, but the blood is thin and comes out in spurts, rather than the deep well of life to which you are accustomed when drinking from her.  It does not take much effort to bring her to the edge.
			
			Once there, you offer her some of your own.  The blood touches her lips, which she does her best to purse.  
			*page_break
			*if exposed_plague
				*if compassion >= 65
					The next evening, Clotho takes a turn for the worse.  Unlike you, blood begins to seep from her pores while she moans from the pain in her joints, much as the fever did to you before.
					*goto clotho_1
				*elseif (ethnicity = "african") or (compassion >= 45)
					The next night finds you abed.  Unlike last time, you find yourself afflicted with bloodsweats and some mild pain in your joints.
					*goto clotho_2
				*else
					The next few nights are pure torture.  Unlike last time, a fever takes hold of you—the first since your death—ravaging your body, while pains shoot through your joints.
					*goto clotho_3
			*else
				*set exposed_plague true
				*if compassion >= 65
					The next evening, Clotho takes a turn for the worse.  Blood begins to seep from her pores while she moans from the pain in her joints, much as the fever did to you before.  
					*label clotho_1
					You are somewhat prepared, and have mortals standing by, ready to satiate her thirst.  She is insensate, however, and though you pour blood down her throat, it does nothing to improve her condition.

					As the nights go on, she only slips further away.  By the third evening, she no longer responds to stimuli; her belly grows distended by the blood that must be pooled there.  By dawn, the blood has even stopped seeping out of her orifices.
					*goto clothos_funeral
				*elseif (compassion >= 45)
					The next night finds you abed with the bloodsweats.  Thankfully, the pain and delirium is not severe.  
					*label clotho_2
					Nevertheless, the room soon stinks of iron.
					
					Clotho has the worse of it, though.  Like you, blood seeps from her pores and orifices.  Unlike you, however, she is clearly wracked by the pain in her joints.  You are able to direct Franklin to gather individuals from which the two of you can feed.  Unfortunately, the plague outside your door does not make his job easy, and you find yourself watching as Clotho slips further and further away.

					*set bloodsweats true
					By the third evening, she no longer responds to stimuli; her belly grows distended from the blood that must be pooled there.  By dawn, the blood has even stopped seeping from her orifices.
					*goto clothos_funeral
				*else
					The next few nights are pure torture.  A fever takes hold of you—the first since your death—ravaging your body while pains shoot through your joints.  
					*label clotho_3
					*set jaundiced true
					You sweat blood profusely.  Franklin brings you individuals from which to feed—as many as he dares—but nothing seems able to satiate your thirst.

					Hallucinations accompany the fever; you lose track of your whereabouts except for the hand of Clotho, which you continue to clutch through both night and day.  Though you are unaware of it at the time, your skin and the whites of your eyes turn yellow as well.

					Unfortunately, the delirium prevents you from noticing when Clotho's grip no longer responds.

					*set afflicted_memphis true
					*set bloodsweats true
					While you are insensate, Franklin is forced to make a decision: no amount of blood seems to aid Clotho, whereas your health is improved by feeding.  Limited by circumstances, he abandons further attempts to feed her.  Two nights after her conversion, she stops responding to stimuli.  By the third night, no further evidence of her undeath could be ascertained.

					It is two nights yet before you are recovered enough to take stock of your surroundings.  Franklin watches over you as you sob over Clotho's body.  You curse his name and his parentage, but thankfully he ignores your outbursts.
					*goto clothos_funeral
	#I flee.  I cannot watch her die.
		*set discretion %-20
		You flee the sickroom.  You run as far as you can run—a fair distance without the threat of running out of breath—until you feel she must be no more.

		You turn and make your way home.  You were right; she is gone when you return.
		*goto clothos_funeral

*label new_election

A few weeks later, you stand in the presence of Carothers and Dido again.  What now stands for pleasantries have already been exchanged, and Carothers informs you flatly, "The Senate has determined that another caucus will be held here next summer.
*if second_memphis_caucus_attended = false
	@{second_memphis_reception_attended For the moment, you are invited.|Maybe this time you will grace us with your presence.|Maybe this time you will grace us with your presence.|Maybe this time you will grace us with your presence.| Perhaps this time you will behave yourself.}"  His words are flat, and you cannot tell if he is simply stating facts, or if he is expressing a grievance.

	"Are you saying that the senators were unable to decide upon a candidate yet again?"

	"You deduce correctly, ${mr} ${surname}," he says, before pausing for a moment.
*else
	The thought of these leeches descending upon my city again fills me with revulsion."

	*if lore > 2
		"Such are the burdens of leadership, Quaestor."

		Carothers nods dismissively.
	*elseif (independence >= 60)
		"I suppose that their determination should be admired."

		Carothers almost chuckles. "I can always count on you for the unexpected, ${mr} ${surname}."  Instead, it is more of a heavy exhalation through his nose.  After a moment's musing, he continues,
	*else
		"Under the Rule of Respect, would you not have the right to deny them entry?"

		"If only it were so simple.  I cannot deny them entry when they come on the business of the Senate.  And so, come they shall."

		"That is unfortunate."
		*line_break
		*line_break
*if knows_hardings_plan
	"I see no point, myself.  Elinor will not stop her efforts to interfere with the election of a Senator.  The sin of my creation remains unexpunged."
	
	"She would distort the workings of the Senate to humiliate you?"
	
	"Without question.  Her hatred of me knows no bounds."
	
	"What did you do to her?"
	
	"I did nothing.  But our dominus gave us both the gift of immortality, and she cannot bear to have me as a broodmate.  I have never found any other cause."
	
	"What, then, is the point of holding another caucus?"
	
	"Unofficially?  None.  Officially, as long as the city still deserves a Senator, an election will be called."
*else
	"I believe they want this matter settled.  The whole world seems to be waiting with bated breath."
	*if independence > 30
	
		"But, there won't be time to prepare.…"
	
		"I think this is now a matter of sheer will.  Whichever side wills it most shall prevail."  
*if carothers_ignorant_of_pb
	
	Before Carothers can continue, Applethorp interrupts.
	*if speaks_english
		"A'pallah, have you seen this @{maddox_num one-eared fellah|one-eyed fellah|redhead} spendin' time in the Beale? An' down in the Pinch?"
		
		"No?"
		
		"What 'bout you, ${given_name}?"
	*else
		She and Carothers exchange something in English, before he turns and asks you if you know anything about a @{maddox_num one-eared|one-eyed|redhead} man who might be a vampire.
		
	*choice
		#"No, I don't know who you're speaking of."
			*set independence %-5
			Carothers nods, taking you at your word. He clearly has other things on his mind.
		#"Oh, you mean ${wilson} ${maddox}." I tell them everything.
			*set carothers_ignorant_of_pb false
			*set independence %+5
			Carothers @{speaks_english and Applethorp|} listen quietly while you relate your story of hunting ${wilson} ${maddox}@{wilson_embraced_by_withers  for Quaestor Withers|}.
			
			Carothers—beset by other troubles—takes the new information with surprising indifference. "Find this individual and dispose of him, ${given_name}."
			
			"Yes, Quaestor," you reply.
			
			Carothers clears his throat.
*else
	Carothers clears his throat.  
"We have another problem, though."

*if compassion < 50
	*set shepherd_credentials %+5
	"The people dying in the streets?"
*else
	*set shepherd_credentials %-5
	"The pollution of our food supply?"

"Yes.  I need to know what happens if we feed from the ill."  There is an uncomfortable pause.
*if speaks_english
	"Dido, please bring out the patient."  Turning, you see Applethorp guiding a clearly feverish Irishman into the room.  She sits him down on the couch.  "If you will…" he says, nodding for Dido to begin.
	
	"Me?"
	
	"Yes, you," Carothers rejoins.
*else
	Switching to English, Carothers gives Applethorp some sort of direction. She disappears for a moment, returning with a clearly feverish Irishman whom she guides onto a couch. Carothers guestures to the man, provoking a look of surprise and dismay from Applethorp. If you understand correctly, he is ordering her to feed from the sick man.
*temp dido_drinks false
	
*choice
	*if bloodsweats
		#"There is no need for this.  I have experienced the affliction already."
			*set applethorp_rapport %+20
			*set carothers_rapport %+10
			*set discretion %+5
			"Excuse me?" Carothers inquires.

			*if afflicted_vicksburg or afflicted_memphis
				"I have already drunk the blood of a plague-victim.  I bled through my skin for days, suffering the most excruciating pain in my joints."

				"And yet you are here?"

				"Yes, after a few nights' sleep, the affliction passed."
			*else
				"I have already drunk the blood of a plague-victim.  I bled through my skin for a night or two, but it was no great impediment to me."

			"And there were no signs of it afterwards?"

			"No, @{(afflicted_vicksburg or afflicted_memphis) none.  But during the affliction, had I not had assistance, I would have starved."|none."}

			"I thank you for this intelligence, ${mr} ${surname}."

			Though she says nothing, Dido is clearly grateful for your intervention as well.
			*goto plague_consideration
	*if compassion < 60
		*selectable_if (discretion > 40) #"A real man would do the deed himself."
			*set carothers_rapport %-10
			*set applethorp_rapport %+10
			Carothers turns towards you, surprised.  "Haven't you realized, ${mr} ${surname}?  I'm not a man.  Dido, proceed."
			
			Dido looks at you, desperate, searching for a way out of this predicament.  When none shows itself, she leans in to drink.
			
			*label dido_drinks
			*set dido_drinks true
			After a few moments of fumbling, her fangs sink into the man's neck.  She drinks, the blood smearing on her face.
			
			When she is finished, she licks the wound.  The man is comatose.  Carothers nods.  "And now, we wait."
			*page_break
			By dawn, Dido is showing some small signs of a fever.  Her body is warmer to the touch than usual. The following week is excruciating for her, as she sweats blood constantly and screams at the pain radiating from her joints. 
			
			However, with the support of Carothers—and Hermes—she pulls through mostly unscathed.
			
			Carothers is clearly relieved when he informs you of these details.  While a potential source of danger, with preparation, the disease is conquerable.
			*if knows_pb_diseased = 2
				
				In light of this development, the words of Stennis—his accusations that ${wilson} is the source of the fever—seem laughable.  The fever doesn't last more than a few days, much less years.
				
				Right?
			*goto plague_consideration
	*if independence > 40
		*selectable_if (discretion > 50) #"A real quaestor would do the deed himself."
			*set carothers_rapport %-20
			*set applethorp_rapport %+15
			Carothers' eyes turn into slits.  "Your jibes will not provoke me into putting myself unnecessarily in danger.  Dido, proceed."
			
			Dido looks at you, desperate, searching for a way out of this predicament.  When none shows itself, she leans in to drink.
			*goto dido_drinks
	#I watch and learn.
		*set discretion %-20
		Dido looks at you for some relief, but finds none there.  Resigning herself to her fate, she leans in to drink.
		*goto dido_drinks
	*if discretion > 30
		*selectable_if (compassion < 50) #"Please, Quaestor, allow me…"
			*set carothers_rapport %+15
			*set applethorp_rapport %+50
			*set independence %+20
			*set carothers_humanity -1
			The relief in Dido's eyes is clear.  Tonight, you have made yourself a true friend.
			
			You lean in close.  The sick man's breath stinks, and the sweat leaves his skin slick to the touch.  You actually have to reposition yourself several times as your fangs slide against his throat.  Finally, though, you strike true, and blood begins to pour into your mouth.
			
			When you are finished, you seal the wound.  The man is comatose.  Carothers nods at you.  "And now, we wait."
			*page_break
			*if (compassion >= 65)
				You notice nothing untoward in the hours and nights that follow.  You inform Carothers of your condition, and he is relieved at the intelligence.
			*else
				*set afflicted_memphis true
				*set bloodsweats true
				Within a few hours, your temperature has risen noticeably; your normally cold flesh is fiery to the touch.  Carothers puts you in a bed for the day, which is soaked through with bloodsweat by the next evening, and your joints are wracked with pain.  Dido brings you a young woman to feed from, as you are clearly depleted.  You struggle to reach her but manage to feed all the same.  Though you do not realize it at the time, your skin and the whites of your eyes turn yellow as well.
				
				The fever burns through you for four nights.  For the duration, you are at the mercy of Dido and Carothers, who continue to bring you individuals from whom to feed.  But when it is gone, it is as though it never was; your flesh returns to its previous state of ice-like chill.
				
				The course of your illness is clearly a source of concern for Carothers.  Were several vampires to fall ill simultaneously without suitable preparations, they would likely go out of their mind with hunger, thereby posing a great threat to the Society.  All the same, he thanks you for your service.
	
				A few nights later, your skin and eyes return to normal.
			*if knows_pb_diseased = 2
				
				In light of this development, the words of Stennis—his accusations that ${wilson} is the source of the fever—seem laughable.  The fever doesn't last more than a few days, much less years.
				
				Right?
			*goto plague_consideration
	*if met_hester_carothers
		#"Quaestor, your daughter would not approve…"
			*set discretion %+10
			*set apollo_and_hester "aware"
			Everyone in the room freezes.
			
			"Your daughter.  Your mortal daughter.  I do not think that she would approve of what you intend to do here."
			
			"What madness is this?  I have no mortal daughter, ${mr} ${surname}."
			
			"But you do.  Born to your wife Lolly, in 1806."
			
			He is clearly thunderstruck by your words. @{(perception > 2) You even catch Dido's mouth falling open from the corner of your eye.|}
			
			After a moment's consideration, he opens his mouth to speak.
			*if carothers_humanity >= 8
				*set applethorp_rapport %+10
				*set apollo_and_hester "dead_alone"
				"I do not know whether you speak the truth, or if this is some scheme of yours, but it is unclear to me why you would think that I would even care about such an individual.  I am a vampire.  While some mortals may claim kinship with me, that is a construct that has no bearing on our condition.  Dido, drink!" he says, gesturing to the afflicted.
				
				Dido looks at you, desperate, searching for a way out of this predicament.  When none shows itself, she leans in to drink.
				*goto dido_drinks
			*elseif carothers_rapport <= 40
				*set applethorp_rapport %+10
				"I do not know what prompts these preposterous claims, ${mr} ${surname}, but they will not distract me from the very real threat that my city currently faces.  Dido, drink!" he says, gesturing to the afflicted.
				
				Dido looks at you, desperate, searching for a way out of this predicament.  When none shows itself, she leans in to drink.
				*goto dido_drinks
			*else
				*set applethorp_rapport %+30
				"What are you suggesting?"
				
				"I'm saying that you should stop this insanity.  Allow me to introduce you to your daughter, tomorrow evening?"
				
				"That does not solve the problem of the fever."
				
				"Vampires have existed for thousands of years.  If a mortal fever was a danger to us, we would know of that danger by now."
				
				He considers a moment further.  "Very well.  Tomorrow."
				
				As you leave, Dido nods at you in silent gratitude.
				*page_break
				*gosub apollo_and_hester
				*goto plague_consideration

*label plague_consideration
*page_break
As August comes to a close, the fever continues to burn through the city.
*if (spencer_sister_status > 1) and (spencer_sister_status < 6)
	Amid this chaos, the Spencer sisters' fame continues to spread. The people flock to their tent in search of comfort from these women with whispers from the beyond. @{(spencer_sister_status != 4) The price for their private séances has only grown as demand for their services swells.|} @{temperance_movement Interestingly, despite everything else going on, the two sisters seem to have picked a fight with the ${wctu}, as they compete for the same adherents.|}

How do you spend this time?
*temp hill_plantation false
*temp financial false
*temp care false
*temp rites false
*temp avoid false
*temp consult false
*label choice_again
*choice
	*if (intelligence > 2) #I consider the financial implications.
		*set compassion %+10
		*set income +10
		*set anachronism %+20
		*if finance > 0
			*set income +10
		*if finance > 1
			*set income +10
		*if finance > 2
			*set income +20
		*if streetwise > 1
			*set income +5
		*if streetwise > 2
			*set income +5
		*if technology > 1
			*set income +5
		*if technology > 2
			*set income +5
		*set financial true
		Someone immune to panic can make judicious investments at a time like this.  You certainly make the most of it.
		*if met_robert_reed_church
		
			Interestingly, you are not the only one to realize the potentail of this calamity: Robert Reed Church, whom you met at the School Board meeting, seems to have had the same idea.  You find him or his agents competing with you for every purchase.  However, in time, in becomes clear that there is more than enough distressed properties for the both of you, and any conflict is avoided.
			*page_break
	*if municipal_debt > 0
		#I consult with Carothers; he cannot still believe that the city will make good on its debts!
			*set consult true
			*if carothers_humanity >= 5
				"What do I care about these bonds?  Do as you will," he says dismissively.
				
				Relieved to hear this, you do not press him on the source of his change of heart.  Within a few days,
				*goto speculator_anyway
			*else
				For Carothers, it is not a matter of whether or not the city will make good on its debts, but rather the demonstration of faith in the city and its future.  He stands by his assertions that the city is still in need of support.
				*choice
					#I want to try and sell them anyway.
						*set carothers_humanity +1
						*goto speculator_anyway
					#I will defer to his leadership.
						What would you like to do instead?
						*goto choice_again
		*if (consult = false) #I try to find a speculator willing to purchase my remaining municipal bonds.
			*label speculator_anyway
			Franklin is able to find a speculator willing to pay fourteen cents on the dollar.  You still hold $${municipal_debt} worth of bonds.
			*label debt_choice
			*choice
				#I try to negotiate a better rate.
					*if ((charm > 3) and (finance > 1)) or (ashmore_banks = 3)
						*if (ashmore_banks = 3) and ((charm > 3) and (finance > 1))
							The speculator acknowledges that some banks in Philadelphia have expressed some interest in the bonds and agrees to a rate of nineteen cents on the dollar.  It seems that Senator Ashmore managed to exert some influence on your behalf.
						*elseif ashmore_banks = 3
							The speculator acknowledges that some banks in Philadelphia have expressed some interest in the bonds and agrees to a rate of seventeen cents on the dollar.  It seems that Senator Ashmore managed to exert some influence on your behalf.
						*else
							You manage to convince him to accept a rate of seventeen cents on the dollar.
						*choice
							#I will sell him my bonds.
								*if ashmore_banks = 3
									*set debt_to_ashmore true
								*set carothers_rapport %-20
								*if memphis_profiteer
									*achieve profiteer
								*if (ashmore_banks = 3) and ((charm > 3) and (finance > 1))
									*set wealth +((municipal_debt*0.19)*17)
								*else
									*set wealth +((municipal_debt*0.17)*17)
								*set municipal_debt 0
								A wise choice.  It is surely best to divest now, before things get any worse.
							#I will sell him half of my bonds.
								*if ashmore_banks = 3
									*set debt_to_ashmore true
								*set carothers_rapport %-5
								*set municipal_debt /2
								*if memphis_profiteer
									*achieve profiteer
								*if (ashmore_banks = 3) and ((charm > 3) and (finance > 1))
									*set wealth +((municipal_debt*0.19)*17)
								*else
									*set wealth +((municipal_debt*0.17)*17)
								*set municipal_debt round(municipal_debt)
								A wise choice.  You reduce your risk while still holding some portion out in the case of a happy resolution.
							#No, I will not sell.
								*set carothers_rapport %+5
								Surely Carothers will negotiate a resolution to this mess.
					*else
						Unfortunately, the speculator is unwavering.
						
						Do you sell or hold?
						*goto debt_choice
				#I will sell him my bonds.
					*set carothers_rapport %-20
					*set wealth +((municipal_debt*0.14)*17)
					*set municipal_debt 0
					A wise choice.  It is surely best to divest now, before things get any worse.
				#I will sell him half of my bonds.
					*set carothers_rapport %-5
					*set municipal_debt /2
					*set wealth +((municipal_debt*0.14)*17)
					*set municipal_debt round(municipal_debt)
					A wise choice.  You reduce your risk while still holding some portion out in the case of a happy resolution.
				#No, I will not sell.
					*set carothers_rapport %+15
					Surely Carothers will negotiate a resolution to this mess.
	*selectable_if (compassion < 60) #I try to nurse the ill.
		*set compassion %-20
		*set discretion %+10
		*set exposure +1
		*set care true
		Not very vampire-like at all, are you?  In fact, you find it hard to resist the temptation to take a nip here and there from the healthy companions of the stricken, but you do your best to resist these urges. @{(feeding_style = "vegetarian") Of course, the fact that you generally refuse to consume the blood of humans anyway helps immensely.|}
		
		You suppose that you manage to provide some sort of comfort to these poor individuals in their last hours.  At least, that is what you tell yourself.
	*if priest
		#I perform the last rites on those in need of such.
			*set exposure +1
			*set rationalism %+20
			*set compassion %-10
			*set rites true
			The priests of the city have been working overtime tending to the needs of the flock.  They do not complain when you arrive and begin administering to the ill.  You suspect, however, that they will want to see your transfer papers before too long.  After all, the Catholic Church does not look kindly on impersonators—or, worse, priests that should have died decades ago—showing up looking hale and hearty.
	*if (met_olivia_hill) and (ruined_relationship_olivia_hill = false)
		*selectable_if (exposure < 10) #I go visit the plantation of Napoleon Hill, the father of Olivia Polk Hill.  I will wait out the plague there.
			*set hill_plantation true
			*set local_fame %+10
			With the extended Hill clan, you take up residence on a plantation about thirty miles from the city. @{(spencer_sister_status = 4) On the carriage ride there, Olivia thanks you profusely for exposing the Spencer sisters as frauds; otherwise, she notes, she would even now be in their thrall.|}
			
			Of course, you have to spin an elaborate tale of being allergic to sunlight to justify the peculiar hours that you keep. With your instructions in hand, they refurbish one of the former slave-houses to suit your needs.
			*goto plague_consideration_1
	*if (exposed_plague = false) or bloodsweats
		*selectable_if (discretion < 70) #I hole up in my home.  No need to expose myself or Franklin to the plague.
			*set discretion %-25
			*set compassion %-10
			Wisely, you order Franklin to limit his trips out of doors to those that are absolutely necessary.  You take great care to stalk your prey carefully, making sure that you do not feed from any plague victims.
			
			*if exposure > 10
				*set exposure -1
				Additionanly, not wandering around town—seemingly immune to the disease—does help to squash some of the more outrageous rumors about you.
			*goto plague_consideration_1
	*if (exposure > 5) #I worry about the stigma that has attached itself to my name; I seek to expunge it.
		*set exposure -2
		*if charm > 3
			*set exposure -2
		The Rule of Reserve requires that you keep a low profile among the mortals. With time and care, you can create doubt in the minds of those who have begun to associate you with something unholy or supernatural.
		
		Undertaking such a task is not glamorous, but presumably helps to extend your life expectancy.
		*goto plague_consideration_1
	*if knows_hardings_plan
		*selectable_if (discretion > 25) #I am indifferent to the matter of the plague; I think instead Carothers owes me for uncovering Harding's plans.
			*set compassion %+15
			*if carothers_rapport >= 65
				*set strength +1
				*set train_strength true
				*achieve carothersstrength
				Carothers listens to your demands with indifference.  He acknowledges the favor you have done for him and offers to teach you how to strengthen your vampiric frame; you are only too happy to accept.
			*elseif debt_from_carothers
				*set debt_from_carothers false
				*set train_strength true
				*achieve carothersstrength
				*set strength +1
				Carothers listens to your demands for compensation with indifference.  When you are done, he says that he will teach you to improve the strength of your vampiric frame in exchange for discharging him from the debt that he owes you.  You are only too happy to oblige.
			*else
				*set debt_from_carothers true
				*set carothers_rapport %-25
				Carothers is @{(carothers_humanity <= 5) taken aback|unmoved} by your callous demands for compensation for services rendered. He acknowledges the debt, but @{(carothers_humanity <= 5) is clearly incensed by the demand|makes his displeasure clear.}
	*if (anachronism > 60) and (knows_pb_diseased = 2)
		*selectable_if (intelligence > 2) #I wish to see if Stennis's theory about ${maddox} being the source of the fever is true.
			*set knows_pb_diseased 3
			*set anachronism %+5
			You spend many nights tracing the outbreaks in Memphis—interviewing the sick and those who survive the dead.
			
			As the months roll by, you come to the inescapable conclusion that ${maddox} is the source of the constant return of the disease to Memphis. The matter, of course, is not helped by the terrible water and sewer system, but outbreaks can definitely be located to place that you know he's been—and people from whom he's fed.
	#I continue my search for $!{wilson}.
		*set independence %+10
		*set carothers_rapport %+15
		*set applethorp_rapport %+10
		Unfortunately, all this time spent searching for $!{wilson} turns up no new news.  It seems that he truly has gone to ground.
		*if streetwise = 0
			*set streetwise +1
			
			However, the time is not totally wasted; you learn how to better imitate the more undesirable elements of society.  Your presence among them does not draw so much attention, now that you know how to ape their customs.
		*goto plague_consideration_1
	*if memphis_affair and barnum_thompson_plot
		*selectable_if (wealth > 250000) #I draw up plans to memorialize the Clay Street school in Clotho's honor.
			*set financial_donor true
			*set compassion %-30
			*set discretion %+10
			*set shepherd_credentials %+10
			*set local_fame %+20
			*set wealth -100000
			*set anachronism %+10
			*set wealth +(finance * 2500)
			*set clay_street_foundation true
			*set stlouis_valet_loyalty %+10
			It will be a few weeks before the plague withdraws, but it will.  And when it does, the children will return and school will resume.  Clotho fought for that school.  In her name, you will chart a future for Clay Street and its students.
			*if joined_memphis_masonic_lodge
				*set wealth +10000
				Moreover, through glad-handing at the Masonic lodge, you are able to raise some subscriptions to support the school from the local community.
	*if (creation > 0) and (literate and speaks_english)
		#I sit down and try to put the sorrows of the city into words.
			*set compassion %-10
			*if creation >= 3
				*achieve memphispoem
				*set memorial_poem_memphis true
				You take your time, choosing each word judiciously.  It takes weeks, but you have the time to spare.

				When you are finished, you are confident that it is a masterpiece.
			*else
				You do your best to put quill to paper, but when all is said and done, you must admit it is altogether unworthy.

				Maybe someday your skills as a poet will be sufficient to express the longing in your heart.
	*if met_hester_carothers and ((apollo_and_hester != "dead") and (compassion <= 65))
		*selectable_if (wealth > 300000) #I pledge the necessary money to help Hester Carothers establish her school for the blind.
			*set financial_donor true
			*set wealth -250000
			*set anachronism %+10
			*set wealth +(finance * 15000)
			*set compassion %-30
			*if apollo_and_hester != "unaware"
				*set carothers_rapport %+50
			*set carothers_humanity -1
			*set founded_school_for_the_blind true
			*achieve philanthropist
			*set stlouis_valet_loyalty %+10
			The moment is ripe for purchasing land in the city.  With everyone fleeing the plague, landowners are more than willing to make deals to liquidate their property.  
			
			Though it takes some effort, you find a suitable spot at the corner of Linden and South Second Street.  
			*if joined_memphis_masonic_lodge
				*set wealth +50000
				Through some glad-handing at the Masonic lodge, you are even able to raise some subscriptions to support the school from the local community.
			You order some renovations to the prospective building,
			*if met_percival_little
				and then turn the matter over to Percival Little.  He is only too happy to be appointed director of the little school.  He may have been ruined financially by the collapse of the Freedmans Bank, but he is still connected to those individuals of means that have an interest in the advancement of the negro race.
			*else
				*set met_percival_little true
				and set about finding a director.  After a brief search, you light upon Percival Little.  Formerly, he was a banker with Freedmans Savings and Trust.  And while he may have been ruined financially by the collapse of that bank, he is still connected with the sorts of individuals who will be able to help keep a school for blind negro children open.
			Before you turn over the school to its new administration, however, you should choose a name for it.
			*choice
				#The Memphis Institute for the Blind.
					*set discretion %-10
				#The Carothers School.
					*set carothers_rapport %+20
					*set blind_school_name "The Carothers School"
				#The ${surname} School.
					*set discretion %+10
					*set exposure +1
					*set blind_school_name "The ${surname} School"
				#I can come up with something better than these.…
					What should the name for the school be?
					*input_text blind_school_name
			With a little bit of luck, the school will open its doors for the spring semester.
	*if (spencer_sister_status > 1) and (spencer_sister_status < 6)
		*if (spencer_sister_status > 3) #I seek to expose the illogic of the Spencer sisters' theology.
			*set exposure +1
			*set discretion %+5
			*if ((intelligence > 2) or priest) and (charm > 2)
				*set spencer_sister_status 6
				After spending enough time listening to Susie's sermons, you find the flaws in their logic and the inconsistencies in their arguments. Finally, you stand one night and begin to point those out. You poke and prod, leading your quarry down a well-considered intellectual path. They try to take your points in good humor, but only too late does Susie realize the logical trap in which you have placed her.
				
				When the sisters flee their makeshift stage, the audience begins to see it too. There's muttering, disbelief, incomprehension…but there's also anger. @{((ethnicity = "african") or (ethnicity = "choctaw")) And no small amount of that anger is directed at you.|} You can feel the mood in the room begin to darken. Your mission accomplished, you depart before that anger can coalesce into action.
				*goto plague_consideration_1
			*elseif charm > 4
				*bug not possible (yet)
			*else
				*set exposure +1
				You spend several evenings analyzing the words of Susie Spencer and preparing your pitch to her congregation. When you feel that you are ready, you raise your hand to speak.
				
				Unfortunately, the audience is disinclined to listen to you. @{(charm = 4) And while your powers of persuasion are mighty, they cannot sway such a large crowd.|} After several sharp exchanges with Susie, you are laughed out of the tent.
		#I drive the Spencer sisters from Memphis.
			*set spencer_sister_status 8
			Through harassment both subtle and overt, you make it known that the Spencer sisters are not welcome in this city.
			
			After severals weeks of this campaign, they vanish one night, almost without a trace. You later hear that a crowd gathered at the usual time for the sisters' weekly sermon, but with no tent and no preacher, they dispersed in sorrow and dread. What is to be done with even your prophets foresake you?
			*goto plague_consideration_1
		#I murder the Spencer sisters.
			*set spencer_sister_status 6
			*set compassion %+10
			@{(spencer_sister_status = 5) You wonder to what gods false prophets pray when their end is nigh.|Whatever their connection to other worlds, it offers them no defense when you confront them one sweltering evening.}
			
			When you have finished your bloody task, you rifle their collection box and make it look like a common robbery. With so many people dead and dying from the plague, no one will spare a thought for two more corpses.
		*if (spencer_sister_status > 3) #I confront the Spencer sisters and demand a portion of their revenue.
			*set laborvscapital %-5
			*set compassion %+3
			*set discretion %+3
			*set income +3
			*set spencer_sister_status 7
			It is hard for them to deny you. Impossible, really. They agree to commit a portion of their ongoing revenue to your accounts.
			
			They inform you that they do not intend to stay much longer in Memphis; despite their lofty rhetoric, they fear the plague and hope St. Louis will be a safer harbor.
*if merodach_alive and speaks_english
	*page_break
	Passing through Market Square again, you notice ${the_preacher} on his rickety stage, ominous in the torchlight.  His flock has grown since four years ago.  His hair and beard are even more dishevelled—if such a thing is possible—but his eyes remain clear. @{(spencer_sister_status > 1) You muse that this is a wildly different pitch than the Spencer sisters. Say what you will about them, but their hair was carefully braided, their dresses clean, and their speech precise.|}

	"Shame on me, I say!  The pride that is in my heart is beyond compare.  I thought that I had saved this city from its sin, but I see now that I was wrong.  The sins of the father are not yet expunged!"
	
	"Amen!"
	
	*if whiskey_ring_status = "merodach"
		"I thought that I had brought the corruption of this city to its knees, when I burned down that warehouse of ill-gotten whiskey!  And brought about an investigation that reached all the way into the White House!  But I was wrong!  The corruption is still here!"
		
		"AMEN!"
		
		It seems that he is perfectly happy taking credit for your ideas.  Ah, well, you suppose.  That is the purpose of puppets, after all.
	"The blight is upon the land and in our hearts!  We have not fulfilled our Lord's commandments, and we suffer the consequences!" @{(compassion < 40) You are thankful that he does not have a stillborn babe to gesture with, this time around.|}
	
	"AMEN!"
	
	"We will not find peace until these crimes have been expunged!  The sins of the father are visited upon his children!"
	
	"AMEN!"
	
	"What will you do?  Will you seek out the crimes that have polluted this land, and bring their perpetrators to justice?  And, when the time comes, will you account for your own sins?"
	
	"AMEN!"
	
	Turning from the crowd, you hurry home, lest they turn their anger towards you.
	
	The plague continues its inexorable progression.
*label plague_consideration_1
*page_break
Only when the first fall chill settles over the city does the fever begin to abate.
*if avoid
	It seems that your discretion has preserved you; neither you nor Franklin fall ill.  The plague now receding, he applauds your wisdom as well.  
*if (stennis_dead = false) and met_stennis
	*set stennis_dead true
	One of the last to die, in fact, is Stennis.
	*if compassion > 60
		These mortals are so fragile.  It really makes investing time in them seem pointless.
The Pinch is the hardest hit; the Irish and Jews, too poor to flee the city, stay in the city and die.  Once fall sets in, the white Protestants return in dribs and drabs; each one writing to his kin to let them know that the city is safe again for habitation.
*if (hill_plantation = false) and ((memphis_reception_planner = "Olivia") or (memphis_reception_planner_1873 = "Olivia"))
	Of course, as soon as Olivia returns, she wants to know everything that has passed in her absence.  You amaze her with the stories of suffering which the city endured after she fled to her plantation.
	*if financial
		You amaze her with the clever financial transactions you embarked upon during the chaos.
	*if care
		She listens, teary-eyed, at the stories of the sick and dying whom you tried to save.
	*if rites
		She listens, teary-eyed, at the stories of the dying to whom you gave the last rites.
	She finds the whole affair tragic, but is thrilled to see that you are well.
*if hill_plantation
	When the time comes, you and the rest of the Hill clan return to the city. They are determined to rebuild Memphis even greater than before. @{(justice < 40) Though, "greater for whom" is an unanswered question.|}

While the middle- and upper-class whites flee the city, the blacks, the Irish, and the Scotch are too poor to follow suit. All three groups are left to bury their dead in private. 

Curiously, a rumor begins to circulate that the blacks are somehow immune or resistant to the fever. Several doctors begin publishing treatises on the low infection and mortality rates from the fever among those of African descent. They opine loudly on the connection between tropical diseases and the natural resistances that must have been cultivated in the jungles and on the savannahs of Africa.
*if ((ethnicity = "african") and (compassion < 60)) or ((justice < 35) and (shepherd_credentials > 65))
	It is clear to you that these doctors are fools. Blacks suffer and die at approximately the same rate as whites, but the white doctors literally do not perceive these deaths. Whether it is from ignorance, prejudice, or indifference, they are broadly incapable of accurately surveying the devastation the fever wreaks on the black community.

*if apollo_and_hester = "dead_alone"
	*set apollo_and_hester "dead"
	*set carothers_humanity +1
	
	Out of curiosity, you look in on Hester, only to find that she is dead and buried.  No one can confirm that it was the fever that took her, but everyone you speak with assumes that it was.
	*if (independence > 60) and (compassion > 65)
		You suspect that Carothers eliminated what could be a source of weakness for him.
*if (first_memphis_reception_attended > 1) and (second_memphis_reception_attended < 4)
	*goto sort_silas
*elseif (independence >= 45) or (carothers_rapport > 70)
	*page_break
	Come November, the plague having long since abated, it occurs to you that Carothers has not summoned you to discuss the upcoming election.  You decide to call on him at the [i]crapaud[/i]-den.

	You find him there, as you might have any other night.  But this night is different: not only does he not throw the dice, but he does not even watch or bet.  Instead, he sits in a chair, seemingly lost in thought, indifferent to the world around him.
	
	That changes, however, when you come into view.  He sits on edge, watching your every move.	
	*if (memphis_reception_planner != "Dido") or (memphis_reception_planner_1873 != "Dido")
		When you bring up the subject of the reception for the Senators next summer, he waves it away.  "We have already fêted them enough.  I was wrong to think such gestures were important."
		
		"As you wish, Quaestor."
	*elseif (acquiring_vessels = "success") or (acquiring_vessels_1877 = "success")
		When you bring up the subject of the "refreshments" for the Senators next summer, he waves it away.  "If they cannot control themselves for a night, are they worthy of being members of the Society?"
		
		"Is it not our obligation…"
		
		"Our obligation is to observe the Three Rules.  Should they break the Rules while in my city, they shall be punished."
		*if compassion < 50
		
			"But, if we can help them to not break those rules…"
			
			"I am not here to be their wet-nurse.  I am here to administer the city."
		
		"As you wish, Quaestor."
	*else
		"Has Dido begun preparations for the reception for your guests?" you venture.
		
		"No."
		
		"She isn't waiting on my assistance, is she?"
		
		"No."
		
		"Then why…"
		
		"There will be no reception."  His words are short, clipped.
		
		"What of the guests?"
		
		"They can entertain themselves."
		
		"But…"
		
		"But nothing.  I have fêted them enough already.  They need no more outlays on my behalf."
		
		"As you wish, Quaestor."

*label sort_silas
*if love_hope
	*page_break
	Late in November, having just finished feeding, you set out home on the paved streets with a spring in your step.  Your journey takes you past Court Square, and it is there that you hear the mournful sound of a harmonica drifting on the evening breeze.  You stop for a moment, listening.
	
	That spring in your step becomes haste, and within moments, desperation.  You rush into the heart of the square, seeking the source of the music.  There, sitting on a bench…a man, clad in Confederate grey…it couldn't be, could it?
	
	@{(compassion < 50) You choke back your words, knowing how ridiculous you're being, but still hoping, praying that the impossible is possible. |}The music stops as you near; he's startled and looks up at you. Those eyes. Is it him? Those eyes…could they be? No. The nose is all wrong. The jaw is too square. "Can I help you, ${sir}?" he says in a slow drawl.
	
	"No, no…I just thought you were someone I knew," you stutter.
	
	"I don' reckon so."
	
	"No. But please, continue playing.  It's been a long time since I heard someone play."
	
	"If you like, ${sir}," he replies.  After another few moments watching you, he starts up again.  The sounds of the instrument fill the square and remind you of nights long past.

*set year 1878
*if (religious_tradition = "reformed") 
	*page_break
	January is surprisingly mild. You're told that the grey sky stretches unimpeded in ever direction, a shroud over the Mississippi Valley. One more sight you will never see.
	
	One of these chill evenings, you find yourself in the home of Mordecai and Elizabeth Cowper. Mordecai has—or rather, had—a business supplying the Union Army stationed in Memphis. With the end of Reconstruction, the two have floundered a bit. He has tried to reinvent himself as a wholesaler, but debts are accruing.
	
	They do, however, take the liberation of bodies and souls quite seriously. During Reconstruction, Elizabeth was a leading fundraiser and administrator of missionary schools in Shelby County, seeking to improve the lives of blacks through education. That too has withered, with the American Missionary Association now directing more of attentions to the conversion of heathens through funding missions in places like South Africa, Brazil, and India.
	
	The couple are hosting a young minister who is raising funds for his missionary work in the Bombay Presidency. He gives an impassioned speech to the audience about the souls that can be saved were he able to be sustained without concern for money.
	
	It is a hard sell. The Cowper's ties to the local élites are tenuous at best. Moreover, those same élites are generally suspicious of educating the non-white races; it has certainly not benefited them.
	*if ethnicity = "african"
		Your own presence here has certainly raised some eyebrows. However, the AMA has been integrated since its founding and the Cowpers have always treated you with dignity and respect.
	*elseif ethnicity = "choctaw"
		Your own presence here has certainly raised some eyebrows. The AMA has been integrated since its founding, but it has actively pushed for the assimilation of the Indian tribes.
	
	*choice
		#I challenge the young minister; what missionary has ever asked their missionary field if they desired conversion?
			*set justice %-5
			*set rationalism %-5
			*set discretion %+3
			*set shepherd_credentials %+3
			*if charm < 3
				*set exposure +1
			*if (ethnicity = "african") or (ethnicity = "choctaw")
				*set exposure +1
			Your argument is poorly received not only by the missionary, but by the Cowpers and the room at large. Everyone here is an advocate for Christianity and the idea that some "might not want to be converted" is offensive to them.
			
			The young missionary obtains little in the way of financial support from the audience and you are thenceforth tacitly banned from the home of the Cowpers.
		#I stand and advocate for the idea of Christian charity: let North and South find common ground in supporting a cause together.
			*set justice %+5
			*set discretion %+3
			*set rationalism %+5
			*set shepherd_credentials %+3
			Your argument moves the hearts of the audience: what better way to bridge the divide between the North and South than to subjugate a new population together? They open their pocketbooks and give generously.
			
			The Cowpers are both quite grateful for your intervention.			
		#I stand and advocate for the idea of Christian duty: though they may disagree with the AMA's past actions, they have an obligation to spread the Gospel to the heathens.
			*set justice %+5
			*set compassion %+5
			*set discretion %+3
			*set rationalism %+5
			*set shepherd_credentials %+3
			Your argument melts the hearts of the audience: they can all agree that those poor Hindoos are destined for an eternity of hellfire without the intervention of the noble American missionary. They open their pocketbooks and give generously.
			
			The Cowpers are both quite grateful for your intervention.
		#While most of the donations will be handled through bank drafts and letters of credit, the missionary will leave here with some bank notes.…
			*set discretion %+5
			*set shepherd_credentials %-5
			*set wealth +10000
			The missionary does manage to scrounge together some pledges and some cash donations. When the evening grows late, he says a prayer over the gathered and departs. Betty Cowper sees him to the door. You wait a few minutes and then excuse yourself.
			
			Following him and emptying his pockets is a simple enough affair.
			*if combat < 5
				*set exposure +1
				His shouting does draw some unwanted attention, but you silence him swiftly enough.
			*if shepherd_credentials < 45
				Humans exist to satisfy your needs. Why should you behave towards them in any other way?
*if (able_to_identify_jews = false) or (second_memphis_reception_attended > 1)
	*comment DYNAMITE introduction (blocked by potentially having spoken with Lesczynski; when I'm less lazy, create a variable to track.)
	*if technology > 1
		*page_break
		While the Yellow Fever has wrought destruction on Memphis and other cities along the Mississippi, across the ocean, humanity has found a new way to do the same.
		
		Several years ago, seeking something more powerful that black powder for the purposes of explosions, a Norwegian by the name of Alfred Nobel invented dynamite. Now, ten years on, its applications to warfare have become clear. Men are shreded on the battlefield with little to no warning. Some call for the ban of the use of the material in war, but the Germans, who used it to good purpose in the Franco-Prussian War, scoff at the idea.
		
		*fake_choice
			#Humanity will always invent new ways to murder each other.
				Perhaps you are right.
			#This is no different than the development of gunpowder; one more advancement in the lethality does not change what has come before.
				Perhaps you are right.
			#When will humanity set aside this search for ways to kill one another more efficiently?
				You doubt that such a night will ever come.
	*elseif ethnicity = "german"
		*page_break
		One evening in March, you find yourself at the home of a local German merchant. He is hosting a speaker who has traveled to the United States from Berlin to solicit donations and subscriptions from expatriates to help the veterans of the Franco-German War. He describes at length the successes of the Prussian war machine against  Napoléon III, as well as the subsequent defeat of the upstart Third Republic. Finally, he introduces the room to the use of dynamite, a new Norwegian explosive, that proved to be a decided advantage in the field.
		
		By the end of the night, he has elicited numerous financial pledges. You, however, suspect that something else is afoot.
		
		*fake_choice
			#I challenge him publically: is this some charade where he will steal these good-hearted peoples' money?
			#I challenge him privately: I'm curious to know what the grift is.
			#I urge my neighbor to press him in my stead.
		
		Under questioning, the speaker confesses that he does not raise funds for current veterans, but for the veterans of the future. He intends to expand the [i]turnverein[/i] system to prepare young German men for war. Too may are fat, lazy, and unfit for service, he proclaims. And by preparing them now for service, they will better endure the horrors of tomorrow's wars.
		
		The revelation provokes further donations from the attendees.
		
	*elseif (feeding_style = "drunks") or ((feeding_style = "gamblers") or ((feeding_style = "laborers") or (feeding_style = "itinerants")))
		*page_break
		One night, you find yourself in a saloon with a handful of cards.
		*if male = false
			@{(strength > 2) You've already knocked one would-be suitor out cold.|You've already shamed two would-be suitors into leaving.}
		The cards seem to be in your favor. The man across from you has a cigar dangling from his mouth and counts five fingers to his name.
		*temp winner true
		
		*fake_choice
			#I fold. I don't want to scare him off.
				*set winner false
				He smiles as you push your cards into the center of the table. The bystanders let out a cheer as the five-fingered man pulls the winnings towards him.
			#I call his bluff.
				You were right. He spits a glob brown mess into a spittoon.
			#I double-down.
				When your cards are revealed, you have the winning hand. He spits a glob brown mess into a spittoon.
		
		You offer to buy him @{winner a consolation drink|a toast to his victory}, which he accepts. You wait impatiently for the whiskey to arrive—this whole affair is simply about sinking your teeth into the leathery flesh of his neck.
		
		Unfortunately, he turns out to be of stronger constitution than you had anticipated, and it takes several more quaffs before you can settle him down enough to have your way with him. In the meantime, he regales you with the number of explosives he has crafted; it seems he is a demolitions expert for the railroads. Or was. He has lost so many fingers that he can no longer do the work, and has been reduced to playing cards to support himself.
		
		He always was a risk-taker.
		
		Notably, he extols the recent development of dynamite, a new explosive that was recently invented in Norway. "It really gets the job done," he slurs, indicating the stumps of his left thumb and index fingers.
		
		No doubt.
	*elseif ((background > 3) and (background != 6)) and ((feeding_style = "merchants") or ((feeding_style = "socialites") or (feeding_style = "artists")))
		*page_break
		You are in the home of Napoleon Hill one evening, when a young man from Nashville makes a sales pitch to the room. His name is Warren, and he claims that he is in contact with a chemical manufacturing house in San Francisco that has the US license on dynamite.
		
		Someone—likely Olivia—asks what this "dynamite" is. Warren smiles and begins to extol the virtues of this new invention, an explosive hundreds of times more powerful than black powder. Warren's scheme is simple: he wants to buy a train full of dynamite, transport it to St. Louis, and then sell it off to the railroad companies of the East.
		
		Before he can solicit parters, however, someone whispers that this is not the appropriate time or place for salesmanship.
		
		You don't see Warren in the Hill salon again.
	
*if speaks_english and ((compassion < 25) or ((applethorp_rapport > 45) or ((male = false) and ((ethnicity = "african") or (ethnicity = "choctaw")))))
	*page_break
	One night, you are at Carothers's [i]crapaud[/i]-den.  Carothers is not present, and Dido seems to be at her wits' end; one of the new prostitutes has been harassing her.  Around midnight, something passes between the two of them, and Dido runs from the room, wiping bloodtears from her face.

	When you find her outside, she is tearing at her hair.  "Dat bitch!  Ah hates her."

	"Dido?"

	"Alls Ahs ever wanted was to be free.  But A'pallah went an' made me a vam-piah before Ah could grow my hairs out."
	*if (discretion > 65) and ((compassion > 55) and (applethorp_rapport >= 60))
		
		Without a moment's hesitation, you storm into the gambling hall, find the prostitute, and kill her.
		*goto killed_prostitute
	*elseif (compassion > 60) and (applethorp_rapport <= 50)
	
		You look at her in disbelief.  "You are crying?  About your hair?"
		
		*goto mock_dido
	*elseif (compassion < 30) and (discretion < 30)
		Her sobs are too much for you, and you put your arms around her.
		
		*goto comfort_dido
	*choice
		#I attempt to comfort her.
			*label comfort_dido
			*set applethorp_rapport %+20
			*set compassion %-20
			*set applethorp_human_contact true
			You hold her in your arms until she stops crying.  "What was she saying to you?" you ask, once it seems appropriate.

			"Dat Ah keeps mah hair like Ah wuz uh slave.  An' she is right.  Ah can' grow mah hair out.  Ah's always be uh slave."  

			You hold her until she stops crying.
			*goto post_dido
		#"You're crying?  About your hair?"
			*label mock_dido
			*set compassion %+20
			*set applethorp_rapport %-20
			She screams at you in frustration.  Unclear as to what you can do for her, you leave her to her tears.  What kind of vampire cries about her hair?
			*goto post_dido
		#I go kill the prostitute.
			*label killed_prostitute
			*set compassion %+10
			*set discretion %+15
			*set applethorp_rapport %+10
			*set carothers_rapport %-10
			When the woman is dead, you return to find Dido still sniffling.  She thanks you for your concern, but is clearly discomfited by the means of your consolation. @{(carothers_humanity >= 7) "You an' Apallah is two peas in uh pod, you is," she observes.|}

			She goes back into the lounge and tries to settle the girls down.  They do not tease her again.
			*goto post_dido
		*selectable_if (discretion < 65) #I demand that the newcomer apologize.
			*set discretion %-10
			*set compassion %-15
			*set applethorp_rapport %-20
			*set carothers_rapport %-5
			After some sharp words on your part, the new girl makes her pilgrimage to Dido.  Dido wipes away her tears, stops her snuffling long enough to make some pretence of indifference.  The girl apologizes, and Dido accepts the apology graciously.

			The thought occurs to you that this must be a rare sight: a vampire so invested in the apology of a mortal.  But there it is before you.

			After the new girl leaves, Dido thanks you for your intervention.  Sensing that she wants to be alone, you bid her goodnight.
			*goto post_dido
*label post_dido
*page_break
April arrives.  At Carothers's urging, you have come again to his favorite [i]crapaud[/i]-den.  He casts the dice, somewhat indifferent to the results.
*if sod_founder = "duplessis"
	*set heard_of_vdaniels true
	
	"The Quaestor of Cleveland has been destroyed. By mortal hunters no less."
	
	@{(discretion > 50) "Is there any sign that they will strike here next?"|"I'm sorry to hear that."}
	
	"@{(discretion > 50) No, not that I've seen. But, regardless, his|His} name was Vernon Daniels, and he was the scion of Governor Townsend." He pauses to throw the dice again. "We must be careful not to take unnecessary risk and observe the Rule of Reserver, or we will end up on like him."
	
	*if heard_of_quarrington
		"Does this have anything to do with the death of Quaestor Quarrington?"
		
		Carothers turns the dice over in his hands. "I do not know. But we should be careful nonetheless."
	
	"Understood, Quaestor."
	
	He throws the dice again.

The excitement for the evening comes from the mortal patrons, in fact.  It seems that a brewery from St. Louis has begun to "Pasteurize" their beer, and have just shipped their first barrels to Memphis for consumption.  The patrons, normally drunk on whiskey and women, stand around impatiently for the casks to be tapped.  
*if (technology > 0) and (anachronism >= 75)
	You recall reading about this "Pasteurization" idea, as explained by Louis Pasteur in his [i]Études sur la Bière,[/i] but this is the first time you have seen the results in person. Soon, the patrons are enjoying their first glasses of Budweiser.  From their exclamations and enthusiasm, you conclude that they consider the discovery marvelous.
	*if (feeding_style = "drunks") and (perception > 1)
		*set anachronism %+5
		Of course, you very much intend to enjoy the beer yourself once you can lure one of the patrons outside.
*elseif (anachronism > 60) and (finance > 0)
	You suppose this is the way of the modern world: the production of goods in one place for their consumption in another. This is the virtue of railroads. Soon, you expect, vegetables from California and oysters from New York will both grace the dining tables of Memphis. Why should beer from St. Louis be any different? 
	
	Meanwhile, the patrons are enjoying their first glasses of Budweiser.  From their exclamations and enthusiasm, you conclude that they consider the discovery marvelous.
	*if (feeding_style = "drunks") and (perception > 1)
		*set anachronism %+5
		Of course, you very much intend to enjoy the beer yourself once you can lure one of the patrons outside.
*else
	Soon, the patrons are enjoying their first glasses of Budweiser.  Apparently, they do not possess the same aversion to modernity that you do.
	*if (feeding_style = "drunks") and (perception > 1)
		*set anachronism %+5
		Regardless, you very much intend to enjoy the beer yourself once you can lure one of the patrons outside.  

*if carothers_ignorant_of_pb
	When you return home, you resolve to assemble a sack of tools that might come in handy when you next confront your quarry. 
*else
	Before you leave, Carothers has a few words with you about your hunt for ${wilson}.  When you return home, on his advice you set about assembling a sack of tools.  
Should he show his face again, you will be ready.

*if memphis_baseball
	*page_break
	It is announced later that month that the Memphis Reds will not be taking the field this year. The rest of the League Alliance is unwilling to travel to Memphis for potential exposure to the fever, and it is deemed irresponsible for the team to risk exposing whole cities by their travels.
	
	The news is greeted with some amount of despair. The populace needed a distraction from their woes, only to find that their woes have deprived them of their distraction.
*if barnum_thompson_plot

	*if memphis_baseball = false
		*page_break
	The Memphis School Board convenes at the beginning of summer, ready to yet again discuss the matter of teacher compensation.  This time, however, the School Board seems initially sympathetic to the women's issue.  That is, until it is revealed that the drastic budget cuts by the city have forced the Board to equalize salaries by lowering men's to the equal of women's.  The only men who renew their contracts for the 1878 school year are principals; the rest move on to other professions.
*if temperance_movement or (shepherd_credentials > 70)
	*page_break
	At the urging of Susan B. Anthony and various women's organizations across the country, Senator Aaron Sargent of California introduces an amendment to the 16th Amendment to the US Constitution, with the goal of granting universal women's suffrage.
	
	It is voted down decisively.
*finish Next

*label apollo_and_hester
*set apollo_and_hester "met"
Just after sunset, you sent Franklin to fetch Hester, telling him you could make your own way to Carothers's haven.  The sounds of horse and carriage announced their arrival, about twenty minutes after your taking a seat in his study.  This is one of those rare occasions on which you have been invited to the haven of Carothers, and @{(status > 1) you take the opportunity to observe him in his natural habitat.|Carothers, and you are uncomfortable with being in the lion's den.}
*if (perception > 2)
	*if carothers_humanity <= 6
		He is clearly nervous, but disguises it well.
	*else
		You are disturbed by his preternatural calm.  Normally you can perceive his moods, but either he is masking his emotions exceedingly well—or he is indifferent to meeting his daughter for the first time.

The [i]tap-tap-tap[/i] of her cane on the wooden floors echoes under the door of the study as she makes her way through the house.  The door finally opens, and Hermes announces Hester Carothers.
*if (compassion <= 35) or (male and (anachronism < 65))
	You jump to your feet, offering her your arm and guiding her to an overstuffed chair.
*else
	Realizing that she still needs guidance, Hermes points her in the direction of an overstuffed chair.

Once she is seated, you have a moment to look at her more closely. Surprisingly, she seems unperturbed by the evening's events.  You explain that you have a friend that wants to ask her some questions about her family and her youth.  She nods, and Apollo begins to speak.  He questions her on the matter of her mother, as well as her upbringing at the Hermitage.  She answers the questions without hesitation, and after some time, Apollo gestures for you to accompany him outside the room.

"I am convinced.  She is my daughter.  But what would you have me do, ${mr} ${surname}?"

*if reserve_on_families
	As you know, there is no crime in maintaining relations with your mortal family.  You 
*else
	You
could recommend that he reveal himself to her; she cannot see his unaged face.  Or that he should tell her that he is her younger half-brother, another child of Apollo.  Or you could offer to return her to her home, that he might simply watch her from afar.
*if (lore > 2) and reserve_on_families
	Lastly, Apollo is the Quaestor of the city.  It is his decision if a given matter is a violation of the Three Rules.  If he reveals himself to her, who will gainsay him?
*choice
	#I suggest that he identify himself as her father, aged and grateful to be reunited with his only daughter.
		*set compassion %-10
		*set discretion %+15
		*if carothers_humanity >= 6
			He listens to your case patiently.  When you are finished, he shakes his head no.  "The time for such a thing is long past, ${given_name}."
			
			"But…why would you let me bring her here, if you had no intention…"
			
			He waves his hand to cut you off.  "Passing curiosity.  See that she gets home.  Or don't.  But take her from here.  I have business to attend to."
			
			Sensing that the matter is concluded, you escort Hester back to her home.  
			
			When you let her off at her door, she finally acknowledges her bewilderment over the events of the evening.  You do your best to dismiss her questions.  After all, you doubt you will see her again after this evening.
			*page_break
			*return
		*else
			*label hester_family
			*set carothers_rapport %+20
			*set apollo_and_hester "family"
			Hester says nothing for a long time.  It is only belatedly that tears begin to stream down her cheeks.
			
			She stands on her sturdy legs, and Apollo embraces her.  Her trembling fingers explore his face and his chest, marveling at the strength of his form.  He makes some excuses, and she is too overwhelmed to see through his flimsy lies.
			
			You leave them to their reunion.  One could even go so far as to say that you have a spring in your step on your way home.
			*if debt_to_carothers
				*page_break
				*set debt_to_carothers false
				In later evenings, Carothers informs you that your debt to him is forgiven; he is grateful for the service you did him.
			*page_break
			*return
	#I suggest that he identify himself as her half-brother, grateful to be reunited with his only sister.
		*set discretion %-10
		*set independence %+10
		*goto hester_family
	#I offer to return her to her home.  This is as much peace as our kind can know.
		*set compassion %-10
		*set carothers_rapport %+30
		*set shepherd_credentials %+10
		In later evenings, Carothers will thank you for your service to him tonight.
		*if debt_to_carothers
			*set debt_to_carothers false
			He will even go so far as to forgive the debt which you owe to him.
		Right now, however, he simply bids a laconic goodbye to his only child from across the
		*if (carothers_humanity <= 3)
			room; he does not bother to try to conceal the tears of blood that color his face as you take her away.
		*if (carothers_humanity > 3) and ((carothers_humanity <= 6) and (perception > 2))
			room; he tries to hide the tears of blood that color his face, but your supernatural senses take note of them anyway.
		*if (carothers_humanity > 6) or ((carothers_humanity > 3) and (perception <= 2))
			room.
		You usher her from the house before she can give voice to any questions about her rather odd evening.
		
		The journey to her home is brief.  Along the way, she peppers you with questions about the strange man that she just met, but you put her off with circumlocutions and half-answers.  By the time she clambors down from your carriage, she is even more confused than when Franklin fetched her earlier in the evening.
		*set carothers_humanity -1
		*page_break
		*return
	*if (independence > 40) and (discretion > 30)
		*selectable_if (compassion > 40) #I recommend that he kill her.  Should his enemies discover her, she could be used against him.
			*set compassion %+15
			*set independence %+15
			*set applethorp_rapport %-30
			*if carothers_humanity >= 5
				*set carothers_humanity +1
				*set carothers_rapport %+15
				*set apollo_and_hester "dead"
				After a moment's consideration, Carothers nods at the wisdom of your words.
				
				Crossing the room in the blink of an eye, he catches Hester's face in his massive hand.  Bending down, he pauses a moment.  "You smell like your mother," he says.  Hester's milky eyes go wide, and he sinks his teeth into her neck.
				
				When he is done, he thanks you for your service to him this evening.
				*if debt_to_carothers
					*set debt_to_carothers false
					He even forgives the debt that you owe to him.
				Realizing that your presence is no longer necessary, you excuse yourself.  He does not need you to clean up after him.
				*page_break
				*return
			*else
				*set carothers_rapport %-20
				*set carothers_humanity +1
				His eyes widen at your suggestion.
				
				"While I appreciate your concern for my well-being, ${mr} ${surname}, I could never murder my only child. No. Take her home.  Let her live out what life remains to her in peace."
				
				"Yes, Quaestor," you reply.
				*page_break
				You usher her from the house before she can give voice to any questions about her rather odd evening.
		
				The journey to her home is brief.  Along the way, she presses you with questions about the strange man that she just met—a process made all the more difficult by the heavy garments she wears to ward off the plague—but you put her off with circumlocutions and half-answers.  By the time she clambors down from your carriage, she is even more confused than when Franklin fetched her earlier in the evening.  You wish her good health, and Franklin spurs the carriage forward.
				
				She must stand there—listening to your retreating carriage—for you do not hear the [i]tap-tap-tap[/i] of her cane.
				*page_break
				*return
	#I suggest that he reveal himself fully to her.
		*set compassion %-40
		*set independence %-20
		*set carothers_humanity +2
		*set apollo_and_hester "revealed"
		*achieve apollon_turranos
		She sits impassively, listening to Apollo's revelations.  Unfortunately for Apollo, whatever forgiveness he might have wished will not be found from her.  When she finally does speak, it is to curse him for being an abomination: "I may be blind, but I can see that you are the curse upon this city.  It is no longer a mystery as to why the Lord God would send plague after plague to torment us when there is a creature such as yourself hidden in our midst."
		
		"How can you say such a thing?" Apollo demands.
		
		"The truth is what I cherish, and that is my strength."
		
		"I am the Quaestor of this city! You will not speak to me like this!" Apollo bellows.
		
		"I say what I say without fear of your countenance. Mark my words: your heritage will be proven the source of your own misery."
		
		Apollo flies into a rage.  Before your very eyes, he tears open the throat of his only daughter, drinking her blood and clawing the milky eyes from her skull.
		
		Thinking it best not to interfere, you excuse yourself from his unholy feast.
		*if knows_hardings_plan
			On your way home, you wonder at the prescience of Hester's words.  Though the plague is surely a coincidence, the persecution of Carothers by his broodmate Harding does seem to have something to do with their lineage.
		*page_break
		*return