Pathologic: Day Seven, a fatal, crucial, and decisive day for the Haruspicus

(or, in which Kevin punches the Sand Plague right in its stupid face)

The morning of the seventh day has come.

Infected in the past 24 hours: 181 people
Died in the past 24 hours: 350 people
Gone missing: 16 people
Number of dead at the moment: 2450 people
Number of infected: 450 people

Even together with the Inquisitor you will not be able to defeat this enemy. Less than six days remain.

---

Look at those numbers—the death toll has quadrupled from yesterday. It's not exactly an auspicious moment for the government Inquisitor to come calling.

The executors, bowing to the Inquisitor. Not pictured: the town wetting its collective pants.

The Bachelor is worried. As the official leader of the hunt for a cure, he looks really bad now that all our best efforts have failed, and he readies himself for his appointment with the Inquisitor with the funereal air of a condemned man.¹

I too am uneasy about the summons that arrives for me. While I know that I have done nothing that warrants execution—a punishment that the Inquisitor freely doles out—I also know that I have enemies in town who would love to put me squarely in her crosshairs. After all, I have been doing things—exacting vigilante justice on looters, consorting with weirdos like Ospina and the Worms, cutting open corpses on the street for their organs—that would look pretty bad when presented in a certain light. Unless I want to take a one-way trip to the gallows, I have to track her down and explain myself before she starts hearing tales. Thus begins a not-so-merry chase around town that takes up the greater part of the day.

The Inquisitor has set up shop in the Cathedral on the town's west side, but she's gone by the time I arrive for our meeting. A cackling executor tells me that she has thrown wide the doors of the Apiary and is there right now, taking note of the horrifying conditions under which Fat Vlad's prisoners have been living. Worried that my association with Vlad in the early days of the epidemic (was that really only a few days ago? it seems like ages) will come back to bite me, I hoof it over there as fast as I can, cursing every delay as plague zones sprawl across my path.

I thought the first section of the Apiary was disturbing, but I'm taken aback by what I find in the main part of the building. The only living Worms I'd seen up to this point were hanging out in the marshes, but there are tons of them in here, quite literally running around. Their frantic dashing back and forth, along with the unhinged, echoing shrieks that occasionally reverberate throughout the building, set me on edge even before I have a chance to explore. When I do, I find that the Apiary is laid out like a maximum-security prison, with multiple levels of cell-like rooms that extend up to the ceiling and are accessible primarily via catwalks. Unlike the rooms in the first section, these cells are not boarded up, probably because they are not occupied by stricken Worms gasping their last breaths into the dusty wooden floor. That does not mean, however, that the rooms are empty:

I also stumble across a larger back room that looks like it was being used for dissection and experiments. Was Stakh Rubin here?

Unfortunately, I've missed the Inquisitor, who has already moved on to the Town Hall to release some unjustly incarcerated citizens. I do however run into the Mother Keeper again, who has parked her adorable five-year-old self in some sort of temple room on the Apiary's third floor. She has resumed her duties as a spiritual leader in the Cult of Bulls, and as further thanks for my help yesterday with the pills, she tells me that I now have permission to enter the Abattoir. I thank her, but it's a privilege that I won't be able to exercise until I catch up with the Inquisitor. I make my way through the throngs of Worms and butchers and step outside into the free air.

Just a reminder: this shrine is presided over by a kindergartner.

By the time I reach the Town Hall, the prisoners have already been freed and the Inquisitor has moved on. It's the same story wherever I go—I'm always one step behind my quarry as she blazes a path through town, righting wrongs and meting out justice. According to George Kain, her zeal is due to the fact that she is facing her own inquisition back at the capital. She's been given one last chance: personally eradicate the epidemic here in town, or else face the hangman when she returns home. She has a very personal stake in what happens here. Interesting—I mentally file that information away before proceeding to the Cathedral, to which the Inquisitor has returned after her sojourn in town.

Our conversation is a little cold at first as we feel each other out; but my knowledge of the Inquisitor's tenuous position has emboldened me, and she seems impressed with my refusal to apologize for my actions. In any case, we both want the same thing (if for different reasons), so there's no sense in her stringing up a potential ally. The Inquisitor is an interesting lady, if a bit abstract in her manner of speaking. She talks a lot about duty and politics and life, which makes for a fascinating if hard-to-follow talk. She seems interested in the town beyond its relevance to her job and is quite knowledgeable about its bull-related nature religion. So knowledgeable, in fact, that she has made a discovery that's eluded the Bachelor and me. The human-bull hybrid (called an "auroch") that we thought a fantasy exists, it's alive, and its blood can be found somewhere in the Abattoir. She sends me to meet with the Elder of the Abattoir, newly returned, to see if I can wrangle some blood out of him.

I've been dying to see the interior of the Abattoir ever since Day 1, so I get over there as fast as I can. To be honest, I was hoping for something a bit more mind-blowing after all the build-up. The part of the Abattoir that I'm able to explore is basically just a gigantic cavern, populated by a mix of butchers and Worms (the latter of which are becoming creepier and creepier by the hour). The town's paltry remaining cattle are penned up inside, their lowing echoing off the dank stone walls. There is one feature of the place that intrigues me, though, and that's a large chamber that looks as if it's used for sacrifices. In the middle of the floor is a seemingly bottomless pit. I wonder what goes into it—or what comes out.

Part of the Abattoir, as viewed from a high platform. It's hard to tell from this shot, but there's a
pit on the right side. I have no idea where it leads.

The Elder of the Abattoir, Oyun, is waiting for me at the end of the system of caverns. It doesn't take long for me to realize that this guy is going to be trouble.

Yes, your neck tendons are very impressive. You can stop flexing now.

Something about the saturnine Oyun doesn't add up. Other members of the Order say that he tried to sacrifice an auroch last night to stop the Plague, but he botched it somehow. The Elder growls that he did everything right but that a couple of Worms sacrificed another bull at the same time and somehow messed everything up. Having been with those Worms last night, though (gathering the blood sample for the Bachelor), I know that this isn't true. Whatever caused Oyun's ritual to fail, it wasn't us. I can't decide whether some greater power was working against him, or he has some secret agenda of his own, or he's just plain incompetent. I file that away, too, and ask for the auroch blood, which Oyun hands over with plenty of dark muttering about how I don't deserve it. He orders me to come back tomorrow so he can test whether I truly am Isidor Burakh's heir. Sure, whatever. I pocket the vial and head for my laboratory.

I have a twyre recipe that I have used only once, to make another disgusting dead porridge and beat back my infection. It involved a few rare herbs, but it also reduced my infection to almost nil. If any recipe should be used with the rare auroch blood, it's that one. I brew it up, add the blood, and press "mix," holding my breath.

A brightly colored flask labeled "panacea" appears in my inventory. I carry it to the Inquisitor, hoping against hope. Evenly, she tells me that, yes, this is indeed the panacea we've been striving for all this time. I've done it. I've found the cure!

... Now what?

¹ In Duke's playthrough, as you've read, the Bachelor is on much better terms with the Inquisitor than he is here. Why the difference? I can only speculate that Duke's heroic efforts on Day Five—particularly his costly liberation of the wrongly imprisoned citizens in the Town Hall—actually had a positive effect after all.

Pathologic: Day Seven, on which the Bachelor will be able to reveal the truth and obtain a priceless ally

At 7am:

The morning of the seventh day has come.

Infected in the past 24 hours: 209 ppl.

Died in the past 24 hours: 342 ppl.

Gone missing: 19 ppl.

Number of dead at the moment: 2394

Number of infected: 437 ppl.

Even together with the Inquisitor you will not defeat this enemy. Less than six days remain.

Today's Map

As soon as I step out of Eve Yahn’s house a cinematic plays. It’s the Inquisitor—a slim, severe woman—ordering executions, followed by an image of the gallows. At this, I start to worry a bit. I have nothing to show for yesterday—no culpable source for the disease. I can only hope she’ll understand.

Tough . . . love?

Also, today is the day when everyone starts calling me oinon. I did a double-take at first; I thought they were calling me onion.

Truth, Lies, and Some More In Between

Not only is the Inquisitor understanding: she’s an admirer of my research. Three years ago, we met at an exhibition in which I resurrected dead tissue. Aglaja is confident in my abilities; moreover, she says I’ve been manipulated. “They” have sent me here on false pretenses in an effort to destroy my work and me. I can only assume she means the higher authorities, academia—all of them jealous of my brilliance. How convenient it was, she tells me, that the town’s sole medic would die on the first day (an almost negligible detail to me on Day 1). I was set up to fail in my fight against this enemy from the very beginning.

Don't let the cowering lackeys or blood-red throne confuse you: she's a teddy bear.

There have been three spectators in town disguised as Executors. They have been feeding rumors of the Shabnak, false information to the masses that has spread faster than the plague. I have to find them and collect their ledgers for Aglaja. This is not terribly difficult to do—each is situated in the heart of the three main districts.

One of the spectators has something interesting to say. He tells me not to trust the Inquisitor; she would like nothing more than to burn this town to the ground. She's wanted, convicted, and this is her last act as Inquisitor, and she would like nothing more than to bring ruin and shame to the higher powers. I take note of this as I grab his ledger.

Eve is Gone

As I scurry around town, I receive a disturbing note from Eve Yahn (my landlady-with-benefits). She says she can’t take any more of this—that she needs a sign of a miracle. Minutes later, I receive a letter from the Devotress blaming me for my mistakes; Eve has jumped from the highest parapet of the Cathedral, expecting to be saved by some miracle.

Andrey Stamatin, who owns the pub in the eastern district (which I frequent for coffee and roses) has some woes. I find from his entourage that he has gone to the swamps in search of Eve; he doesn’t know she’s died. Instead he’s gotten it into his head that the smooth-headed Worms have stolen her to become a “Bride of the Worms”—perhaps for sacrifice or something worse.

Cursing under my breath, I tramp down to the swamps. It’s not to far a detour on my way back to the Inquisitor. I arrive at a rust-red yurt to find a large posse of high-cheekboned butchers and worms, all of them thirsty for blood. After several failed engagements, I adopt a stealthier approach, draw my adversaries out to the swamp to wander after me, and rush to the yurt to speak to Andrei, who has discovered the horrible truth. Yes, Eve has died. There’s no getting her back, no hoax, no trickery. If I want comfort from now on, I’ll need to visit the tavern.

We should seriously check into whether or not this game has ever induced Seasonal-Affective Disorder. 

Andrey says one rather unsettling thing before we part ways. He tells me Eve jumped because she wanted to become “The Soul of the Cathedral”. Something about an Inner Chamber. I’m reminded of the Kain family’s talk of the “Inner Chamber” in which the late Simon Kain, the first diseased, died on Day 1 and 2 (another seemingly unimportant detail to me back then). At this point, however, I still don’t understand.

Truth, Lies, etc. (continued)

The Inquisitor is frustrated with the ledgers I collected. They are false. The numbers have been stacked; the information collected is off, somehow, though we don’t know which of the three is wrong. She tells me that I must arrest one of the three spectators. One tells the truth, one always lies, and the other one vacillates between the two. Right, Wrong, Neutral. I can’t help but think, as she sends me to discern which is which, that I’m being put through an elaborate test. She wants to see how trustworthy I am.

She said he did it of his own free will but . . . uh . . .

Look carefully at the hollow--there's a strange face etched into the roof of the Cathedral.

The details of the rest are inconsequential, of course. I find the traitor, take him back to the Inquisitor, and she orders him to jump from the top balustrade of the Cathedral to his death. She tells me afterwards that I made the right decision, and she’ll have more for me to do tomorrow.

A new "map"?

When I’ve finished, I look at my map to see a second drawing on the back. It’s the town from the side—a large, awkward hump on a hill. I don’t understand the meaning at all. The etchings at the bottom are like traced veins. I’m certain this will make more sense in the days to come.

Mask & Overall

I receive a letter from the Haruspicus asking for an executor’s mask and suit and spend much of the rest of the afternoon scouring the town and countryside for something, but nothing turns up. I must have missed something earlier. However, my wandering turns up two interesting things.

The culture of this place disgusts me. The townsfolk built their awkward little houses, now brimming with plague, when they ought to have stayed in their yurts. As I head north through the Tanner’s District, I come upon a Worm standing outside an empty pen. Curious, I ask him what he’s doing. He tells me the earth needs blood, and that by performing a special ritual we can nourish it. I want to know more, and he hints that I might be able to participate. I accept, and moments later I find myself hemmed in the pen, facing a bloodthirsty butcher with nothing but my fists to defend myself.

I panic, then relax and step forward. He delivers a crushing blow, nearly killing me, and so I step back, then forward, timing my punches just so. After a few minutes, he goes down. The worm, looking rather glum, tells me I didn’t shed enough blood, but he would give me the fellow’s pancreas as a reward. I take a sample of blood instead. It may prove useful.

Kevin constantly berates me for being “so prissy” but I just killed a man with my bare hands. There’s nothing prissy about that. That’s what this town is—it’s designed to make animals of men.

Horns. Everywhere.

The other image that interests me is in the cemetery. I hadn’t noticed it before, but most every tombstone has some sort of image of bulls upon it—in the form of horns. Bull horns everywhere. It’s a strange anthropomorphism. There’s so much talk about the Abattoir—the bulls in the fields and the infections—and now rather than cows in the pens, there are hundreds of human carcasses, stacked and canvassed. The people of this town are mere livestock on their way to the slaughter.