update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/neviim/local/codrin/001.md

@@ -1,5 +1,7 @@
 # Codrin Bălan --- 2346
     
+    Convergence T-22 days, 4 hours, 12 minutes
+
 Tycho stayed until they could talk him down from the plateau of anxiety he had seemed determined to hold onto for as long as he could. They fed him tea, then leftovers, then ice water, anything they could do to help. They talked to him about how to prepare for the inevitable discussions that would be coming from the other astronomers aboard as well as from the inevitable contact that would come from the Odists or Jonases, seeking answers to why he had done the things that he'd done.
 
 And, once he was able to talk without the volume of his voice continually rising, once he was able to smile again, they sent him on his way, off to go get some sleep, even though the sun was beginning to color the eastern sides of the house in salmon and orange.

writing/post-self/neviim/local/codrin/002.md

@@ -1,5 +1,7 @@
 # Codrin Bălan --- 2346
     
+    Convergence T-22 days, 3 hours, 10 minutes
+
 It took both both eir partners to talk Codrin down from eir desire to simply get right to work.
 
 *"My dear, if, as he said, Tycho was going to take a nap, perhaps you ought to do the same."*

writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/002.md

@@ -1,5 +1,7 @@
 # Tycho Brahe --- 2346
     
+    Convergence T-22 days, 4 hours, 23 minutes
+
 Tycho returned to that field beneath the stars after the conversation with Codrin and Dear to find someone already waiting for him.
 
 They'd discussed this potential. There were two branching paths that they had ruled most likely, which was that he'd meet another of the astronomers. Were that the case, he was to calmly explain the situation, exploring the ramifications of the messages both received and sent.

writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/003.md

@@ -1,5 +1,7 @@
 # Tycho Brahe#Artemis 2346
     
+    Convergence T-22 days, 3 hours, 49 minutes
+
 Tycho#Artemis was unsure if what he was seeing was a flurry of chaotic activity or some tightly choreographed dance. Part of this assessment, he guessed, was due to the relatively small number of individuals for the number of instances moving around. There were at least a dozen instances of True Name that he could see, and then at least that many of a gentleman who looked to be in his well-preserved forties, slender without being lanky, tall without being looming.
 
 And that was it. Well over twenty instances of two individuals milling around what appeared to be a farm of cubicles, each walled with glass, the upper half of which was frosted.