update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/marsh/prophecies.md

@@ -1,14 +1,14 @@
-To step into The Bean Cycle was to be immediately assailed by sound. There was, as always, the muted howl of steam wands bringing milk up to temperature, and mixed in, as ever, was the clatter and clicking of work being done on bicycles. Wheels were spun, chain was dragged through derailleurs, tires were changed. Milk was steamed, espresso was made, names were hollered out.
+To step into The Bean Cycle was to be immediately assailed by sound. There was, as to be expected, the muted howl of steam wands bringing milk up to temperature, but mixed in was the clatter and clicking of work being done on bicycles. Wheels were spun, chain was dragged through derailleurs, tires were changed. Milk was steamed, espresso was made, names were hollered out.
 
 It was not the type of din that Slow Hours expected for the one she and If I Dream were looking for. It was too uneven, this wall of sound. Too unpredictable. The steam wands were too piercing and the occasional clang of a wrench or raucous laughter over some story of a crash too jarring.
 
 She looked to If I Dream, who merely shrugged.
 
-Scanning the cafe-*cum*-bike repair shop revealed little. It was certainly well populated enough, with every table in use and few enough empty chairs. In the corner by the window, a crowd of some synthetic creatures of some sort had gathered, looking vaguely feline but with glassy faceplates showing LED-light eyes in sets of fixed expressions. While they were all far shorter than Slow Hours — who one would be hard pressed to describe as tall — the couch that they were sitting on looked to be barely able to hold their weight.
+Scanning the cafe-*cum*-bike-repair-shop revealed little. It was certainly well populated enough, with every table in use and few enough empty chairs. In the corner by the window, a crowd of synthetic creatures of some sort had gathered, looking vaguely feline but with glassy faceplates showing LED-light eyes in sets of fixed expressions. While they were all far shorter than Slow Hours — who one would be hard pressed to describe as tall — the couch that they were sitting on looked to be barely able to hold their weight.
 
 Even if it was not the type of place for the target of their search, it was still incredibly endearing, and she made a note to herself to return some day.
 
-"Afternoon, friends," the barista said, grinning to them. "Two mochas? Extra whipped cream?"
+"Afternoon, friends," the barista said, grinning to them. They were tall and wiry, red hair and beard shining in the bright halogen lights over the bar. "Two mochas? Extra whipped cream?"
 
 Caught off-guard by having her order guessed for her, Slow Hours froze, brow furrowed.
 
@@ -44,7 +44,7 @@ She snorted. "Well, okay, good point. I suppose I am still a little rattled, is
 
 The panther laughed once more. "Well, I was going to say the story, but the coffee *is* quite good here, so, yes."
 
-It was only another minute or two of waiting before Hasher waved to get their attention, gesturing to three paper cups sitting on the bar, ready for them. Slow Hours dropped the cone of silence and winced at the sudden barrage of sounds that followed. "Thank you," she said, bowing. "By the way, we were hoping to meet up with a cocladist of ours. She is a skunk, a furry, built rather like myself. Have you seen her around?"
+It was only another minute or two of waiting before Hasher waved to get their attention, gesturing to three paper cups sitting on the bar, ready for them. Slow Hours dropped the cone of silence and winced at the sudden barrage of sounds that followed. She turned her hearing down a few ticks. "Thank you," she said, bowing. "By the way, we were hoping to meet up with a cocladist of ours. She is a skunk, a furry, built rather like myself. Black fur, white stripe, a little jumpy. Have you seen her around?"
 
 Wiping their hands on a towel hooked into the strings of their apron, Hasher nodded, tilting their head over toward the couch full of robots. "The one who was sleeping there the last few weeks, I'm guessing?"
 
@@ -56,23 +56,25 @@ Wiping their hands on a towel hooked into the strings of their apron, Hasher nod
 
 They nodded towards the back door of the shop as they started to make their way back to the line of customers waiting for drinks. "Out back, out to Infinite Café, probably half an hour ago. Just peek in if you need anything!"
 
-The two Odists bowed their thanks and carefully picked their way further over to the cafe side of the building, winding their way between tables until they reached the brick wall. There in the middle was a green, wooden door set into an arch, and above the arch "INFINITE CAFÉ" shone in tooth-aching pink neon.
+The two Odists bowed their thanks and carefully picked their way further over to the cafe side of the building, winding their way between tables until they reached the brick wall. There in the middle was a green, wooden door set into an arch, and above the arch "INFINITE CAFÉ" shone in tooth-achingly pink neon.
 
-The sim in which The Bean Cycle existed had a weather pattern tuned after somewhere in the northern hemisphere, so they had entered the shop sometime in late winter, where the air still had a bite to it and salt still stained the sidewalks out front from where the ice had been melted in the days prior. They had arrived late in the afternoon, the sun setting down along the street casting long shadows behind them.
+The sim in which The Bean Cycle existed had a weather pattern tuned after somewhere in the northern hemisphere, so they had entered the shop sometime in early March — a scant three weeks after Lagrange had come back online after the Century Attack — where the air still had a bite to it and salt still stained the sidewalks out front from where the ice had been melted in the days prior. They had arrived late in the afternoon, the sun setting down along the street casting long shadows behind them.
 
-When they stepped out into Infinite Café, though, it was the same bright, midsummer's noon as it always was there. The sun came from everywhere and nowhere, their shadows sat just beneath their feet. It was the perfect temperature — no matter who you were, no matter your preferences, it was always perfect — and it was as packed as ever. If one percent of the population of Infinite Café was missing, Slow Hours could not tell.
+When they stepped out into Infinite Café, though, it was the same bright, midsummer's noon as it always was there. The light came from everywhere and nowhere, and their shadows sat just beneath their feet. It was the perfect temperature — no matter who you were, no matter your preferences, it was always perfect — and it was as packed as ever.
 
-The sim was dead simple: it consisted of one, long road set into a torus. A truly enormous torus: when she looked up, she saw a bright thread directly above them where the road had curved up into an arch hanging in the heavens, and yet the road seemed perfectly flat as far as she could see.
+If one percent of the population of Infinite Café was missing, Slow Hours could not tell, and for that she was grateful.
+
+The sim was dead simple: it consisted of one, long road set into a thin torus. A truly enormous torus: when she looked up, she saw a bright thread directly above them where the road had curved up into an arch hanging in the heavens, and yet the road seemed perfectly flat as far as she could see.
 
 Lining either side of the street were entrances to cafes. Cafes, coffee shops, doors leading out into libraries with coffee cards, alleyways leading out into sims where coffee was hawked from handcarts, dusty steps leading up into marketplaces where vendors boiled their coffee in their cezves in great vats of sand set over wood fires. Anywhere that served coffee to cladists that wanted was free to create an exit that lead out into Infinite Café, and over the two centuries of its existence, it had grown from a labyrinthine maze of buildings to the ring-road that it was today.
 
-She had no clue how it worked, if it really was that big, but the sheer size of the System had been driven home quite effectively over the last few weeks, so she was hopeful that there were no tricks involved, no attempts to make it look bigger than it was.
+She had no clue how it worked, if it really was that big, but the sheer size of the System had been driven home quite effectively over the last few weeks — 23 *billion* dead! The number remained surreal — so she was hopeful that there were no tricks involved, no attempts to make it look bigger than it was.
 
 She was hopeful that all of these people here on this relatively crowded street were real. She hoped they found coffee and friends and loved ones and long-lost selves.
 
-A gentle touch to her shoulder brought her back to the present. She looked over to If I Dream, then followed her gaze go the center of the thoroughfare.
+A gentle touch to her shoulder brought her back to the present. She looked over to If I Dream, then followed her gaze to the center of the thoroughfare.
 
-There, in the middle of the path, stood a skunk. She looked much like others in her clade, with white-striped black fur, tapered snout, cookie ears poking out from an unruly mane, and where she differed, it mostly came down to clothing. She wore a linen tunic in pale yellow, cinched around the waist with a leather belt, and a pair of loose, woolen trousers in a dusty brown. Her mane was tied back with a kerchief of some sort, a pastel triangle visible to them as she stood stock still and stared straight up to the arch above.
+There, in the middle of the path, stood a skunk. She looked much like others in her clade, with white-striped black fur, tapered snout, cookie ears poking out from an unruly mane, and where she differed, it mostly came down to clothing. She wore a linen tunic in pale yellow, cinched around the waist with a leather belt, and a pair of loose, woolen trousers in a dusty brown. Her mane was tied back with a kerchief of some sort, a pastel triangle fully visible to them as she stood stock still and stared straight up to the arch above.
 
 Slow Hours felt concern tugging at her cheeks, while a glance at If I Dream showed only curiosity.
 
@@ -88,7 +90,7 @@ Both Slow Hours and If I Dream took a pace back, startled.
 
 In the span of three seconds, the skunk seemed to get her bearings and comprehend just who was standing in front of her. She visibly worked on mastering her breathing as she stood up straighter, brushing her paws anxiously down over her shirt. "Ah...I, ah...Slow Hours?"
 
-She bowed slowly, deliberately, so as not to startle the skunk any further, and nodded. "Yes, and If I Dream." She held out the extra mocha. "We got you a coffee, What Right Have I. Would you like to join us?"
+She bowed slowly, deliberately, so as not to startle the skunk any further, and nodded. "Yes, and And If I Dream, Is That Not So." She held out the extra mocha. "We got you a coffee, What Right Have I. Would you like to join us?"
 
 What Right Have I looked between the two anxiously, clutching at the hem of her tunic. "I...ah, do you...I mean, is there an occasion? Is there a place? I was...I mean, I had been in The Bean Cycle but the couch...oh, I am talking myself in circles..."
 
@@ -110,7 +112,7 @@ Instead, though, If I Dream simply squeezed around the skunk and stood still. Th
 
 "Y-yes. *Tizkeh l'mitzvos.*"
 
-"Will you join us for coffee? It is not a demand, just an offer."
+"Will you join us for coffee? It is not a demand, to be clear. Just an offer."
 
 What Right Have I nodded slowly. "Is the...ah, is the couch free in The Bean Cycle?"
 
@@ -118,13 +120,13 @@ If I Dream hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "The creatures have left. There
 
 "If we...I mean, if I may set up a cone of silence, that will be fine, yes."
 
-Slow Hours watched as the panther gently released her grip on the skunk, the two monochromatic animals — one in baggy, colorful linen and the other in black form-fitting shirt and legging — separating cautiously, as though to move faster might once more send What Right Have I into manic pacing.
+Slow Hours watched as the panther gently released her grip on the skunk, the two monochromatic animals — one in baggy, colorful linen and wool, and the other in black form-fitting shirt and leggings — separating cautiously, as though to move faster might once more send What Right Have I into manic pacing.
 
 "Shall we?" Slow Hours asked, smiling reassuringly to her cocladists.
 
 The couch was indeed free, though there was no other instance of If I Dream visible. Slow Hours put this out of mind as best she could; the first stanza was well known for just how easily they slid about unseen, unbeknownst to others as they simply watched, observed.
 
-They sat in the crook of the couch, set up as it was as a right angle. What Right Have I requested one of the corner vertices of their little triangle so that she could get up and pace should she need, nudging the low table that sat before her aside to help assist in this endeavor, before setting up the cone of silence and nudging it to obscure them as occupants. The din of the coffee shop fell to a low murmur. 
+They sat in the crook of the couch, L-shaped as it was. What Right Have I requested one of the corner vertices of their little triangle so that she could get up and pace should she need, nudging the low table that sat before her aside to help assist in this endeavor, before setting up the cone of silence and nudging it to obscure them as occupants. The din of the coffee shop fell to a low murmur. 
 
 The three of them set their coffee cups on small coasters set in the air just within reach, and waited in silence.
 
@@ -134,13 +136,13 @@ The three of them set their coffee cups on small coasters set in the air just wi
 
 "I know," the skunk said. "She has messaged me several times. I have...ah, I mean, I always endeavor to let her know when I am okay. And I am! I promise."
 
-Slow Hours laughed, holding up her hands. "I believe you, my dear. This is a meeting between friends, not an interrogation. We wanted to see whether you are okay, yes, but it has also been some time, yes? And I have been checking in with much of the clade in the last few weeks. There are several of me about."
+Slow Hours laughed, holding up her hands. "I believe you, my dear. This is a meeting between friends, not an interrogation. We wanted to see whether you are okay, yes, but it has also been some time, yes? And I have been checking in with much of the clade in the last few weeks. There are several of me out and about on meetings such as these."
 
 She nodded. "She told me she just wanted...ah, she requested "a bit more proof than gentle rebuffs." I told her that I am okay. I told her that I was walking and meditating."
 
 "Is that what you have been doing during the day?"
 
-"I..." She trailed off, scrubbing her paws against her thighs. "Some, perhaps. A little."
+"I..." She trailed off, scrubbing her paws against her thighs. "Some, perhaps. A little. We are still in *shloshim,* but I cannot...ah, I am not focused."
 
 "You will have to forgive me for being a bit blunt," Slow Hours said gently. "But are you overflowing?"
 
@@ -160,7 +162,7 @@ Both Slow Hours and If I Dream nodded. No Odist had joined Artemis for its ongoi
 
 "And that is what you are feeling now?" Slow Hours asked.
 
-"No," she said, once more sounding miserable. "If I do not feel ecstasy, I feel anguish. I feel...mm, I feel nullity. I feel nothing. I feel RJ and I think, "Ah my friend, my friend." I do not see in em Adonai. I do not feel *b'tzelem Elohim,* I feel stupid. I feel...ah, I feel broken. I have been staying here, sleeping where I may be seen because I am afraid...ah, because I am so, *so* afraid that I will disappear, that I will crash and that no one will notice me. I fear that I will be forgotten and that...ohhh, I am talking in circles. I am thinking in circles, I am sorry."
+"No," she said, once more sounding miserable. "If I do not feel ecstasy, I feel anguish. I feel...mm, I feel nullity. I feel nothing. I feel RJ and I think, "Ah my friend, my friend." I do not see in em the divine. I do not feel *b'tzelem Elohim,* I feel stupid. I feel...ah, I feel broken. I have been staying here, sleeping where I may be seen because I am afraid...ah, because I am so, *so* afraid that I will disappear, that I will crash and that no one will notice me. I fear that I will be forgotten and that...ohhh, I am talking in circles. I am thinking in circles, I am sorry."
 
 "It is okay," Slow Hours said gently. "Do you think you are overflowing because of the Century Attack?"