A cold night at the tail end of the Mesoamerican Long Count’s 13th b’ak’tun. Cryptic flyposted photocopies spread wide across the city, fluttering on lampposts and building-site hoardings, their cheap, close-set prophecies growing illegible in the rain. Tents and placards cluster outside the cathedral, the city museum remains closed and dark after a burglary in its antiquities wing, and high on the hill behind the city, against a blank grey sky, the observatory is in flames.

Rename “Crook” to “Believer” and “Mastermind” to “Auspex”.