update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/016.md

@@ -70,7 +70,7 @@ There it was. There was the discontinuity.
 
 There was that slippery feeling to time. There was that change in atmosphere, that change in pressure, that change in ACLs. There was that change in the way the very fabric of the world was woven.
 
-There, too, was Stolon standing just outside the gazebo that served as the arrival point from Castor. Stolon and Sorina and Iska and Turun Ka and Turun Ko and Artante; they were all there, his own small welcoming committee. And beyond them, crowds and crowds of others, milling around the plaza. Firstracers through fourthracers, and a surprising number of fifthracers all of whom must still be learning their way around, being shown the ropes by the volunteer guides.
+There, too, was Stolon standing just outside the gazebo that served as the arrival point from Castor. Stolon and Sorina and Iska and Turun Ka and Turun Ko and Artante; they were all there, his own small welcoming committee. And beyond them, crowds and crowds of others, milling around the plaza. Firstracers through fourthracers, and a surprising number of humans --- no, fifthracers, now --- all of whom must still be learning their way around, being shown the ropes by the volunteer guides.
 
 He stepped out into the cool night, and, as he had slowly grown used to, let Stolon butt their head against his arm in a friendly greeting. He couldn't do the same, given the height difference, so he'd taken to bumping a fist against the thirdracer's shoulder in response.