![canstockphoto3252756.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmcbo6JBWVSMMqUpSH3a6gvGMZZUQcyxbvEfTepHL4Ycuz/canstockphoto3252756.jpg)

> Stuff found written on walls. -- [Knitnan](http://knitnan.tumblr.com)

Corridor  3278B had been marked as a Paradox Hazard by the local representatives of the AI Alliance, thus causing something of a traffic snarl in the adjacent byways. Since she was in the neighbourhood, Officer Lyr Marken investigated, reading everything there that was still legible.

She found it easily. Beautiful, artistic script that read, _Everyone writes on walls except me!_

Lyr instantly went for the first suspect, dialling up Ambassador Shayde's personal comms. "Ambassador Shayde F. Pitt..." she began in an accusatory tone.

"I have'nae done anythin' today," she protested. It took her a couple of seconds to add the vid feed. She was so used to telephones that vid calls took some conscious effort. "I only jus' now got out o' bed." She was, indeed, more deshabilé than usual, sporting pigtails that were dangerously frayed. As well as her physically impossible sleepwear. "Woz 'appnin'?" she slurred around a magnificent yawn. Her hand failed to completely hide her equally impressive fangs.

"This," said Lyr, aiming the pickup at the graffito. "I've warned you about placing paradoxes in public thoroughfares, before."

"It was'nae me, honestly. Check the security feeds. I'm nowhere near there fer two months."

In Galstand terms, a month and a half. Shayde still counted her time by the Terran calendar. Lyr still ran the feed through her eyescreen, highlighting the difference between with-the-paradox and without-the-paradox in her search terms. The graffiti artist in question was too tall to be Shayde. Too tall to be human... except... Lyr zoomed in. They were wearing a _hat_ under the obscuring hood.

A very distinctive hat. With brass goggles. Lyr heaved an enormous sigh. "My apologies Ambassador Shayde. I should have examined the evidence, first."

"So who _did_ do it?"

"A member of the Consortium of Steam," grumbled Lyr. "I still don't understand how they can slip their assistants with the help of just a false moustache..."

"Paper-thin disguise. Works ev'ry time," Shayde yawned out, "Later, gater," and signed off.

Lyr had to look up the direct line for the Consortium of Steam. She really should have known. It was the same thing, every time they did a concert circuit.

[Image <a href="http://www.canstockphoto.com">(c) Can Stock Photo / klikk</a>]

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