abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] let these bones be the giver

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[ CLOSED ] let these bones be the giver

Who: Geralt + Various
When: Mid-January
Where: Cadens, Horizon
What: Dealing with a sudden onslaught of new memories
Warnings: Spoilers for The Witcher S2, trauma, discussion of torture, etc. NSFW marked.

placing starters in the comments below. find me at

discontinued or at Noa#1979 to plot stuff!

since geralt has been officially canon updated to the end of s2, just let me know directly if you want to have a zero spoiler interaction and i can set the threads pre-canon update for these cases.

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[ The reply that comes is equally brief and to the point. He can appreciate that. Normally, he'd choose his domain for simplicity, but at the moment, the keep is...complicated. A bit fucked. ]

Yours. One hour. Where is it?

[ A brief description or direction will do; he finds his way easily and the Horizon isn't large. He shows up in an hour—or whichever time they ultimately agree to—and finds himself on grounds that are familiar and yet not, for more than one reason.

The temple-like space, the mountains. They remind him of the temple in Ellander, where he stayed for some time as a boy. But it's the building that rises nearby, almost out of place, that catches his attention. He's seen it before. Distinctive round window, the brick-laid streets. He went there, during that strange twilight time within the Horizon where each of them remembered nothing and too much all at once. Walked into those doors. Searching, for a girl he could only vaguely recall. He did not find a girl, but he did find a man who somehow seemed more hollow than even his home.

And what would you have in return?

A little less empty time.

Funny, how things go. Here he is again, with a name to a face this time. Or he assumes that's what he'll find behind these doors: the same face. He knocks, once, and waits. ]

[He provides the description without too much flourish, expecting that the facsimile of the Sanctum Sanctorum should stand out easily enough based on just a few generalized details. It’s a strange building—pun definitely not intended—amid the otherwise meditative exterior, two different fragments of two different worlds, all belonging to the same man.

The interior reflects this mish-mash of weird and esoteric — an interior that Geralt will be privy to yet again once the door swings open on its own, inviting him in. The broad space of the foyer is inviting enough; a flame crackles in its fireplace along a far wall, as though shielding the indoors from the Himalayan air sweeping in.

Stephen’s already halfway down the staircase when the other man enters, dressed in the familiar: his navy sorcerer’s garb and the length of a red cloak fluttering behind him. The look he gives his guest is fixed, curious, and doesn’t bother to hide its assessment, gleaning what he can based on first impressions alone.]

You can sit where you want.

[If he’s inclined, there are places for it. Cozy corners that might not exist on any given day, depending on Stephen’s whims.]

If you think this’ll be an extended visit.

[ The face is the same, as expected; the interior is not. Where he'd found only glass and sparse furniture, cold floors before, there's now a warmth in the lit fire. He takes it in for a second before his attention returns to Stephen. You're a mage, he'd said once. Or more a mage than not. He thinks the same now. If Stephen is sizing him up in turn, he'll find Geralt unarmed other than a small dagger tucked inside his boot—more out of habit than caution. The Horizon gives ample opportunity to present an immaculate appearance. Geralt's done the opposite of take advantage. But at least his hair's clean, if not brushed. ]

We've met. [ It's stated without preamble and without elaborating. Geralt steps inside, finds the nearest seat—which happens to be a table, possibly decorated, possibly with items on top. He perches on it, careful not to knock anything over. Not really making himself at home, not really bothering with courtesy, either. ]

Sam says you're familiar with travel between realms. And that you were there at the Dimming to examine the Singularity. You learned something. [ He doesn't expand on his relationship with Sam, but it says something, perhaps, that Sam has divulged this information to him. ] I wanted to know your thoughts about Thorne's claim that the Singularity is the source that binds every world in the universe together.

[The table is adorned with a pile of books and a few odds and ends that could be representative of a storied, magical history, but one wouldn’t guess it by the way Geralt’s planted himself on the surface. Stephen quirks an eyebrow, but leashes the remark begging to roll off is tongue. He did say that he could sit wherever he wanted.

It’s straight to business with his man, anyway. Someone who he certainly does not recognize, ashen-haired and to-the-point, claiming that they had met once in the past. Stephen is quick to chalk it up to another version of him that had made the rounds in this world not terribly long ago, but he’s more unaffected than annoyed. It puts him at the disadvantage, but it also does away with pesky things like pleasantries and introductions.]

I don’t remember you.

[Just putting that out there, in case he’s expecting more familiarity that Stephen does not possess.]

But Sam wouldn’t be wrong. [Sam’s name is punctuated, highlighting that there’s a connection they’re glossing over, thank you, but he’s filing that away for now. Once Stephen is down the steps, he moves towards his guest, stopping just short to cross his arms.] On both accounts.

I don’t mind answering your questions. In fact, I think the more people that know, the better. But I’d like some context first. Who are you, exactly, and what territory are you in?

[ His head tips briefly to the side, like he's heard that one before. He has. ] It happens.

[ Don't ask him how; he only knows it does. He spent weeks looking for what happened to Mal, caught him in Thorne's dungeons briefly when he was captured again (a fun adventure), and that's about all the information he holds as to how the so-named Summoned come and go sometimes. The unpredictability of it all leaves him uneasy, but until he learns more, there's nothing any of them can do about it.

His palm rests on the table. Fair question. ] Geralt of Rivia. I'm in Cadens. [ And though he rarely offers up much more, he does get he's here for a favour. ] I was one of the first to arrive in Thorne.

[ Feels like three fucking lifetimes ago. It's a point worth noting: those summoned by the territories afterwards are brought in, for a purpose. His presence in the Free Cities is because he stepped through a portal. While he doesn't doubt they want every displaced soul they can get their hands on, he's noticed anyone summoned into Cadens has received attention from the military he and those like him who ran did not: housed, fed, clothed. That ever so polite request to return to the barracks by sundown. As though they're trying to retain them within the ranks. ]

[It happens. Of course it does, echo his own thoughts, and Stephen spends a whole half-second determining whether or not this is worth a slight tangent in the conversation — and ultimately, decides that it isn’t. He cannot do anything about what he—or another version of himself—did in the past, only accept that it happens, and hope that he had forged a few valuable connections before he left. Maybe he’s standing before one right now (good job, him), though he gets the feeling that they’re still more strangers than acquaintances.

Geralt. Cadens. Information committed to memory, the ever-shifting filing system in his brain.]

If you were one of the first to arrive, I’m going to assume your opinion of Thorne isn’t all that flattering.

[Which Stephen doesn’t care about; he’s heard tell of the Summoned sequestered in the castle dungeons, and anyone in their right mind would be upset about that. He sure would. It’s when these experiences sully the overall crux of the issue—the Singularity—that’s the problem. When it overcomplicates things.]

I’m still going to be straightforward with you. I don’t think Thorne is wholly wrong in their assessment. I do think the Singularity is connected to plenty of worlds well beyond this one. When I touched it, the presence of the Multiverse was clear.

[He couldn’t do anything more than sense it, he couldn’t reach out further, but it was confirmation enough.]

But the devil’s in the details. It’s connected, but does it bind worlds together? I don’t know. Is it connected to every reality, every parallel dimension, every facet of every universe? I can’t verify that, either.

[There’s still so much he doesn’t know. It frustrates him, like having a thread dangling before him and being unable to pull at it.]

My opinions are rarely flattering. [ A touch of wryness lines his words. If anyone should bear ill will, it's probably him—the scars that mark his back are not from pleasantries exchanged in the throne room—but if he held a grudge against everyone who wronged him at some point, he'd have room for nothing else.

Besides, he'd like to see a kingdom that hasn't fucked people over for its own gains. He's certain both Solvunn and the Free Cities have skeletons of their own; they're just better at hiding them. He's not here because he thinks Thorne is wrong. He's here because he also thinks they could be right. They're afraid of something. Fear does not stem out of thin air. What Thorne believes they know, what they think they understand of the Singularity, it's rooted in some truth, however obscured or twisted by their perceptions. But this is the first he's met anyone who's stated with such clarity that they felt the presence from...the other realms. Other spheres. Until now, no one's been able to approach the Singularity directly; few would have the capability to assess any theories, as well. The only other person he knows of who would is Ciri, and he isn't bringing her anywhere near the damn thing.

There's a question here, about how Stephen can be so sure. What it is that makes him different. Geralt puts it aside. Even if the man were to explain, he'd still only have his word to go on. Seems like a conversation for another time.

Instead, he considers for a moment. His interest in filling any extended silence is nonexistent. Whatever Stephen has said, though, Geralt does not appear to disagree. ] What of your world. Have you seen this before? A structure that serves as a point of connection between spheres?

[He’s not inclined to hand out his resume just to prove that his opinion means something on the matter, even if it’s reasonable to wonder. He isn’t used to it; for better or worse, no one cared to question the authority of the Masters of the Mystic Arts when it came to something as wildly complicated and mind-reeling as the Multiverse. Their expertise was limited, too, for the sake of keeping balance, but at least they had more than most.

After all, Stephen’s astral form has been sent wheeling through the Multiverse itself to mitigate his pride in those transformative days. He experienced its color, its dazzling fragments of worlds that looked like atoms, atoms that looked like worlds, the deepest and darkest threats, the blinding light of the unknown, endless possibilities. And he had returned with a mind expanded — even if he felt like puking once he was grounded again.

He’s confident what he felt with the Singularity is dimly similar. Minus the nausea.]

Not exactly. [Context clues equate “spheres” to worlds for him.] My order doesn’t make a habit of jumping from one branch of the Multiverse to another. We’re in the business of keeping balance, not breaking known reality. So most of it’s uncharted territory.

But dealing with ancient, powerful relics floating around comes with the job. [The Infinity Stones were aspects of the universe itself in concentrated form. A monolith potentially bearing the heart of all magic? Not a stretch. Stumbling into the Singularity was not so much a surprise as it was an inevitability.] Maybe the Singularity’s just one confluence of power out of many. There’s no way to verify.

Edited (redundancy!! ) 2022-01-26 19:09 (UTC)

[ His eyebrow lifts. An entire order? Interesting. He's never considered that the nature of the structure might take a different form. But if it's possible for a monolith to be eroded over generations, then on another world, if enough millions, billions of years have passed, perhaps the form of one would've...altered.

Maybe. He wonders if what he's about to say will verify that for the man or just open up another fresh headache. Might be both. ]

Historians back home say a collision of multiple worlds merged into one. Most believe the spheres involved in the Conjunction were consumed or destroyed in the process. It's said the monoliths found scattered across the land were merely debris from the cataclysm. But— [ Fuck. He hates that Istredd was likely right. ] Recently, something happened that indicate those spheres still exist. And that the monoliths on each world are connected to one another. Monoliths not unlike the Singularity.

[ Even without bringing Ciri near the Singularity, its interference with her Elder Blood is undeniable. Her magic is even less stable here; she can't open any portals as she used to. The Wild Hunt can't sense her in turn, which suggests something about the nature of the Singularity is masking her altogether. He hasn't any idea how near or far off the mark he is, with what he's thinking. He's kept it to himself long enough, though. He can't protect Ciri from what he doesn't understand. This fight for control over the Singularity—he doesn't care about that. If not the Singularity, they'd be fighting over something else. Land, religion, the amount of sheep they have. That's just how it goes. But he does care if what any of them are planning will put Ciri in danger. ]

[Any new influx of relevant information is automatically a headache for Stephen. That’s the curse of a man who likes to be over-prepared and hyper-vigilant of any and all developments. Everything is a fresh variable, shunted into a mess of potential what-ifs that have to rearrange themselves to make room. It’s hardly Geralt’s fault he’s this way.

Still, better to know than not. Stephen’s brow wrinkles.]

Okay.

[Just okay. Give him a minute to untangle a very parallel, very taxing example of a similarity, worlds away from this one.

Finally—] The monoliths you’re referring to, how do you know they’re connected? Was there some kind of magical indication, or…?

[“Something happened” doesn’t tell him an awful lot, and he’s never been shy about fishing for more.]

[ Yeah. He thought that might take a moment to absorb. Geralt waits without interrupting or prompting. Frankly, he spent a day or so thinking about it all, then he went to get a drink or five for the rest of the night, and now he's. Still thinking about it, days later. Inching towards an understanding he isn't sure he'll get any time soon. Stephen's in luck, though, because Geralt is also that way, which is why he's here trying to fucking work this out while coming to grips with a friend who can't stop drinking himself into a stupor and the woman he loves nearly feeding his daughter to a malevolent force.

At least his horse is content. ]

A demon shattered one, opened a portal. Her way home. She went to great lengths for it. If the monoliths weren't the key, she'd have never needed to search for one.

[ It's more than that: only Ciri has the power to shatter one, to open the door. He's not about to say a word on what Ciri can do. That he believes she's capable of doing the same here, if they ever find a way to unlock her Elder Blood again, but only at great risk to both herself and everyone else. Too many back home want to use her as it is. He won't let the same happen here. ]

That aside, an energy surge was recorded near one of the monoliths. It lines up with when monsters not previously seen on the Continent began to appear. [ He makes a vague gesture with his hand, as though acknowledging he's leaving some details out for the sake of not giving Stephen several tomes' worth of his world's history in one breath. ] We took two to the lab. Ran some tests. They contained bits of the same material that the monoliths were made of.

[A demon violently prying open a portal to get home. Previously unknown monsters carrying around bits of monolith-evidence after an energy spike. Pretty compelling, he has to admit.]

So we’re not just talking about a passive connection. We’re talking about the potential to cross a threshold into other worlds or realities.

[Which draws another connection in the overall web: the Singularity, present in this world, harboring the same potential. Whether or not it functions similarly to what Geralt’s described is still up in the air, but it isn’t a so unfounded a guess that they can’t launch hypotheses off of it.]

If the Singularity’s anything like your monoliths, we could be seeing only half of the big picture. A connection flowing in one outward direction, when the reality might be closer to a two-way street. Inbound and outbound.

[A crossroads? It could explain why this world’s magic can summon people from the far reaches of the multiverse, if its nature was at all tied to the Singularity.]

And like the monsters you mentioned, things that mean trouble could sneak in or affect it in ways we can’t see. It’s something to consider if the people of this world can’t figure out why it’s started to weaken, otherwise.

Mm-hmm. [ It helps, he needn't clarify much for Stephen to catch on. ] There's more. Magic is not native to the Continent. It arrived with the Conjunction. And the Abraxans claim the Singularity is the source of all that magic.

[ The theory fits, in other words. Appears so, at least. He was not sure, at first, what to believe. The flowing outward of Chaos into all other worlds had been a far-fetched concept. Since then, he's come to consider if the worlds do not circle each other at equal proximity but instead are interlinked, continually expanding ever outward, then the concept is suddenly no longer as absurd. It'd explain why some spheres, like his, have higher concentrations of it while others, like Nadine's, have so little as to almost be nonexistent altogether—but still contain some notion of it. Of magic, of monsters they say no one's ever seen and yet write stories and draw pictures of with startling familiarity.

At some point, similar things must've crossed through these different places. Even if they didn't stay, even if they haven't taken root as they have on the Continent. Hell, maybe some of the monsters in this sphere that he's been hunting aren't native to this land, either. Perhaps they, too, slipped through the Singularity long ago from a distant realm. But where Stephen is concerned about what's causing the weakening of the Singularity, Geralt has been thinking of what will happen as it continues to do so. If it ultimately dims altogether. Destroyed, as some claim to want.

Currently, it holds the Wild Hunt at bay, as far as he can tell. What else is out there? (What else may want Ciri, that's waiting for the chance to slip through?) ]

It isn't only sneaking. Thorne's High Mage told us he fears the Singularity will devour the spheres, one by one, to sustain itself. Whether or not that's true— [ Fuck. Is he going to say it? It sounds like horseshit even in his head. He sighs. ] I've wanted to determine how possible it is that the Singularity's collapse, or a strong enough interference, may cause every pathway to open at once.

[That theory doesn’t exactly clash with how Stephen’s been taught about the nature of his magic. Perhaps some exists natively in his world, fleeting influence that most will never be privy to; but most of the energy he conjures and controls and shapes into spells are pulled from the Multiverse itself.]

Whether or not that’s true, I think the Singularity is at least a source of magic that connects all worlds. The theory checks out on my end. My magic is drawn from the various realities and planes of the Multiverse — that’s how I was able to sense its tether to the monolith. Eldritch magic isn’t native to my Earth, either.

[Perhaps the giveaway’s in the name, anyway. Eldritch, ancient and weird. Magic that focuses heavily on portal-creation cannot be rooted only in one place.

Stephen sighs, shifting his weight to the other foot. His fingers flex into the cloth of his sleeve, arms still crossed and mulling over Geralt’s implied question. The idea of worlds being devoured alive by the Singularity isn’t a new concern for Stephen; if anything, it’s the primary one. He’s not much of a protector if there’s nothing left of Earth to return to.]

It’s possible. There are spells back home I could cast that’d tear holes in reality if I was too reckless. [not that he’d ever do that……….] To say the Singularity has the same potential isn’t a stretch, though it’d probably take two extreme circumstances for that to happen: an outright failing, or an unexpected surge of power.

[The failing is what Thorne is concerned about, of course. The surge of power? He wonders if that could be a side-effect, someday, of their eagerness to right the problem.]

…Are you worried about something in particular getting through?

[ Geralt's brows furrow at that. The idea of reaching through into other realities to draw on their magic leaves...a lot to think about. It strikes him, suddenly, if that's what Ciri does without realizing it. She's capable of a hell of a lot more than any mage, any person. He's always presumed it to be related to her Elder Blood, and he knows Ciri thinks the same. But what if it isn't inherent in her? What if the only thing her Elder Blood allows is for her to reach across realms, to draw on levels of Chaos not present in any one singular world?

Despite the time he spends clearly absorbing what the man is saying—ultimately, he doesn't ask. Too many of his questions are related to Ciri. (He is absolutely making note of that tear holes in reality comment.)

Instead, he brings his focus to Stephen's question. There is something in particular, but he isn't certain how to broach the topic of the Wild Hunt. He doesn't know himself why they even want Ciri. What for. Only that they do. Putting that aside, though, there is something else. ]

When monsters first filled the Continent, humans decided to weaponize them. To conquer lands. I'm sure you can imagine the outcome. [ Vesemir once believed Witchers saved humans from their own destruction. Perhaps the old man still does. Geralt isn't sure what he thinks anymore. Sometimes it feels as though they've only put off what's coming. All he knows is that reckless is what kingdoms have often proven to be. He wants to say, The territories might try to force that surge of power and he wants to say, Another Conjunction may only be an opportunity to gain control for some, but these are all fears, conjecture. And he has little desire to give voice to every fear and shadow of doubt that lingers in his mind.

He thinks for another moment, searching for something tangible to place forth. Something that can actually be done rather than fretted over. ] It may be worth knowing what possibilities these territories realize exist through the Singularity. Not only what the Singularity itself is causing.

[Weaponized monsters. Great. Another potential tool in any one nation’s arsenal, and that doesn’t include the inherent dangers for the average citizens walking a country road. Another headache in Stephen’s growing collection of them.

Though maybe focusing less on the what ifs, and more on what each territory believes the Singularity is capable of, would shorten this list — just as Geralt says. Stephen looks skeptical, but not necessary at the suggestion itself.

But instead, at how’d they even go about learning that.]

What would you suggest? Speaking to the ones in charge would be the most straightforward way to pry out answers, but that’s assuming they don’t want to keep tight-lipped on the subject.

[Or—] Worst case scenario, we’d be giving them ideas.

[“Hi, have you considered the Singularity could act as an open gateway potentially ushering in an army of trainable monsters?” Not ideal.]

[ Geralt cants his head to the side, acknowledging Stephen raises a perfectly fine point. ]

Besides wait and watch? I don't know. I was hoping that might be your domain. I just kill the monsters.

[ That's not entirely true; there's obviously more to it than that, considering he's here, asking about any of this in the first place. But it is true that matters of subterfuge is not his strong suit. He either watches quietly until he finds what he's looking for, or he asks outright for what he wants to know—there's little in between for him.

He doesn't disagree that granting them ideas is the least favourable option, though. No one needs that. Normally, he'd suggest Stephen speak to Yennefer. Work with her. She knows her way around the court, who can be manipulated or not. She's been there months. But she is no longer someone he wants to be involved where the Singularity—where Ciri—is concerned.

Eventually, he releases a breath. ] If you decide to speak to anyone, Ambrose may be the easiest to get to. [ Whatever his opinion on the man, he knows the High Mage genuinely believes what he's doing, what he's told them. Jon compelling the truth out of the mage leaves little left to doubt, in that regard. ] Avoid the queen.

[ Take it from him. Personal experience. ]

[Stephen makes a low noise at the back of his throat. “Wait and watch” is not usually his go-to method of procedure, but neither is dipping his toes into the delicate orbit of politicking. This treads dangerously close to that, but equally isn’t surprising to him — it was just a matter of time.

He wonders if Geralt’s sole focus is that obvious; he kills the monsters, sure, he has no reason to believe otherwise. But something must’ve sparked this concern, something more layered than that, or else he wouldn’t be having this conversation. It’s a thought Stephen shuffled to the back of his mind for now.]

I can get in touch with Ambrose. [He’d reported in, once, regarding his read on the Singularity. Framing a second meeting as a follow-up of burgeoning concerns wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.

Stephen’s brow wrinkles at the addendum, though.]

The queen’s not an option because she’s a dead end, or because she’s one that’ll get too many ideas?

Edited 2022-02-04 00:05 (UTC)

[ He leans his weight on one hand. Some doubt lingers in his eyes—not at Stephen, but the situation altogether. He doesn't know if talking to Ambrose—bringing this to attention to anyone in Thorne's court—is the right path. Feels like it has as much chance to backfire as not. But he isn't in Thorne, he hasn't any better ideas, and his awareness of what's happening in the castle is limited. So trusting Stephen to make that call is about all he can do.

The queen, though— ]

I was brought in for a...private talk once. Came away with a nasty scar. [ Good times. Very pleasant. ] As far as I know, she operates outside her council's knowledge and her reach is far. She has a pet mage. Goes by Grigory. He'd cut off his cock if she commanded it.

[ If he hasn't already. Either way—she isn't an option. Not for this. His main concern is whether Ambrose will go straight to the queen. He pauses. Tries to think of who else. ]

There's another mage. Red hair, green eyes. I don't know her name, but I do know whatever she learns, she's unlikely to go to the queen. The question is if she knows anything at all.

[ He has no idea who she is, what title she holds. It must be of some rank, for her to have walked into the dungeons without being stopped, but there's a difference between going into the cells unhindered and having access to the kingdom's highest secrets. He'd never asked much that night when she set him free. Other things on hold mind. But those are Stephen's options: Ambrose or the unnamed mage. Jolene, if Stephen were to identify her through another. ]

Edited (please ignore me I just keep typoing ) 2022-02-06 02:12 (UTC)

[Private talk. Squint and read between the lines enough, and he’s pretty sure that’s just a nice way of saying “violent interrogation.” Duly noted in his mind and underlined twice — the Queen is not one in which trepidatious ideas should be given. But the sword is a double-edged one: the Queen probably wants to know of all theories, rumors, and prodding questions being tossed about the castle, and will very enthusiastically dig them up if needed.

Problematic. Risk assessment is crucial here, caught between pursuing a route that could be a dead-end, versus one more fruitful, but also the easiest way of garnering the wrong kind of attention. Stephen wonders what kind of attention Geralt had cast on himself to warrant a “private talk”, and he even thinks to ask about it. But chances are he’d be told it’s none of his business, and if it was relevant, it would have been brought up well before now.

The thought dies on the vine. Instead—]

I think I want to take my chances with the High Mage first. I feel that any big revelations about the Singularity will make their way up the executive ladder with time. I’d like to just get the head start if possible.

[Time. Time is always the deciding factor in matters such as these. How ironic that he no longer feels there’s ever enough of it.]

And if I start to hear whispers about Thorne wanting to usher inter-dimensional monsters in through a shiny, newly opened gateway… Well. [Pointed look.] If that’s your expertise, then you’d be the first to know.

[ The incident contains a multitude of layers and details that Geralt isn't ever going to get into. The reality is, not even Yennefer or Jaskier know the full story, even though the former was present. There. (Because she's always there.) He leaves aside the matter of their mind reading, of him dragging his bleeding arse through the wooded mountains for a week. All Stephen needs to know is that unless he's extraordinarily sure of his pieces on the board, he should not be fucking with the Queen.

He tips his head, acknowledging that assessment. Fair point. Either path carries its risks. But they can't sit on this information without doing anything.

He gets off the table. Yeah. He'd like to hope it'll not come to that, but they both know better. Something lies ahead. Thorne is only a part of it. What Solvunn and the Free Cities know or believe remains to be seen. He intends to find out there, too.

Telling Stephen to be careful seems redundant. So he doesn't. ] You know how to find me.

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[ CLOSED ] let these bones be the giver

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their matching Tired icons are so funny

they've been working overtime for 20 years