I see a room. A dwelling.
Once upon a time, the room was ordered. Meticulous, everything in its place and filed accordingly. Over time, the clutter began to mount. Then, the clutter gave way to mess. What once was meticulous and ordered soon looked anything but.
In order to declutter the mess, one must first be able to identify the problem. Then, the space can be tidied and everything that is out of order be put back in its rightful place. A truly organised room has a plan which can be followed out. When the time comes to have a Spring Tidy-Up of the room, one works to right the wrongs so that they can create order and harmony.
Everything in its rightful place.
Such is your life, Conservator Wolfe.
You spend your time noticing the messes that people have found themselves in, setting schematics and legalizing plans to help them create order out of the chaos that is life in Arcadia. You are a good tidier, Wolfe. You right wrongs, being careful to manipulate the plan just enough so that things work out in your favor.
Arcadia is a place where many folks lie in mess and ruin. The clutter of the Lower Levels has long given way to mess, and you specialise in that mess. It keeps you in business. Because people will always need help to right the wrongs of their lives, and you’re only too willing to help… For the right fee.
But what happens when one tidies the room, follows the plan but neglects to clean?
Everything has its rightful place and your plan helps to keep it that way, yet the room itself remains untouched. Tidy to the naked eye- it appears to be ordered, organised and harmonious. Yet, as time goes on, those that perceive what others do not can see what dirty secrets the tidy looking room really hides. Over time, focus on tidying up problems and neglecting to clean the room leaves a settling of dust and grime. When one runs their finger along any surface in the organised, yet forgotten room they feel the same result.
Filth.
Left alone, the filth will continue to build until it has become a problem. An invisible issue that is neglected by those relying on seeing, grime that can only be felt.
You create your plans, sign your documents and get your way, Conservator Wolfe. You tidy up what you see needing tidied. You set policies and make damned sure they get followed.
But I feel your filth.
What others see with the flashing of a red light, I hear in the wavering of your voice. The fear. The accusation.
Your plans are simply not working.
Your layer of filth has reached crisis point.
These occurrences, the red light, it shows you what I already understand. That somebody or something out there sees it too.
It’s time for some spring cleaning, Conservator Wolfe.
I’m here, not like you to tidy the room… But for a deep clean.
I clean until I feel no more grime.
You’re about to be scrubbed clean.