I speak to the concept of remaining calm amidst minor workplace crises, who runs the local thought police, on his views on regulation.

"It's a complex problem," he says, in his dingy office in downtown Lingcheng Square. "We've got officers on the ground, but the problem is too systemic and widespread to be solved like this. Anything we try to enforce from our end, we see significant local pushback from all strata of society. It's a Sisyphean cause."

There's also the issue that thought processing is not technically illegal in Lingcheng. "Legally speaking, it's a grey area. It's new technology, so it takes time for regulations to be devised. But the dangers are real - increased risk of ego death, existential nightmares, they've all been well documented. However we as the law can't actually charge someone for illicit thoughtmongering unless we can prove there's actual harm done. So oftentimes we're just… too late," he says with a resigned smile. He reaches around for a clean, thick folder in his filing cabinet and lays it out before me. "Here, take a look at this."

An array of thoughtforms are displayed on the table. Each one a carefully documented print of a burnt-out shell, remnants of fragments of scraps of a piece of a thought that thought too hard and succumbed to satiation. "The concept of burning a wet leaf with a sparkler on an October night. 21 years old. Died only two days ago. We traced the guy that outsourced him, booked him for one count of grievous misconstruing, but the damage's been done. Not a pretty sight when it happens, but when it does, it's folks like us that have to pick up the pieces."

The concept of remaining calm amidst minor workplace crises is not alone. The imaginary city's police force runs a anti-thoughtmongering division of more than two hundred officers, sergeants, and constables, but it's clearly not enough for a city of more than four million citizens and untold numbers of undocumented immigrants ranging from three to seven million. And the division is hopelessly overstretched - rates of traditional forms of thoughtmongering, like daydream-dealing and underground taboo distribution, still run high, and the numbers of new cadets each year are already insufficient to counter the increasingly high turnover rates of veteran officers. Those who remain are often stable, traditional concepts from an older generation, able to withstand the incessant mental stress of the job - but even those, too, have begun to leave, drawn by the allure of a minor clause in their contracts which all but guarantees full retirement with a generous pension for an unspecified length of time after a certain length of service and a sufficiently high rank. For now, the freelancers and their outsourcers are here to stay.

Many are pleased. The sensation of deep, personal isolation despite constant social interactions (not her real name) tells me that unlicensed thought processing saved her life. "They ask you to go through so many background checks, especially like a young individual like me without any credentials or job experience. But I was in a dark place - I couldn't wait. I felt like I could burst as the seams any moment. So I asked a friend and she asked her friends, and I ended up with a number for one of the more experienced processors - an abstract metaphysical pointer, fresh out of college, but everyone claims she's the best one this side of town." She refuses to provide me with contact details, citing a promise of confidentiality. "You never think you'd be the one needing someone else to ride your extra conceptual baggage out for you, especially when you've never experienced the terror of the nihil or the raw, crushing doubt of obsolescence. But when my turn came, I found myself grasping at anything, anything at all." Was it worth the risk? I asked her. She grins defiantly, stretching her telltale scars wide. "Of course. Even if it entails breaking the law, it was worth it. I'm snappier, healthier than I ever was before, and I haven't had a relapse in months!"

Such testimonials are typical of much of the city's dissociated youth, many of whom owe their lives to the profession decried by the media as i-space's newest scourge. Yet they are a minority among its clients, most of whom partake in the activity on a purely recreational basis. "Every club in this city has a padded back room, you can tip the bouncer a few hours in advance and they can have the room prepared for you perfectly when you arrive - free-flow drinks, personal music, and a decent freelancer, of course. You go with some friends, have a few drinks, share some laughs, let yourself ride your hopes and dreams out into the shared noosphere of the padded room, really, just hang loose for a while. You have a good time, free yourself from the shackles of objective perception, all that jazz and the works for an easy three, four hundred bucks - but you can always split the bill."