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writing/post-self/toledot/launch/launch/Codrin-green/003.md
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# Codrin Balan#Green --- 2325
The first interview that Codrin Bălan conducted was with an author who had uploaded to both of the launches. He had not left anyone behind, not on the system, choosing instead to invest entirely in the launches themselves. At first, Codrin wondered why it was that this author had chosen to be a part of the interview process, why it was that Dear had recommended him. It was not until they had a chance to talk with the author that ey began to understand why.
The first interview that Codrin Bălan conducted was with an author who had chosen to invest completely in the launches, leaving no one behind.
His name was Joseph Rankin, and while Codrin had not read any of his Works before, he had certainly heard the name. A man prone to grand literary gestures, one who leaned heavily on the twisting of endless sentences, ceaseless streams of fragments, and up prose that bordered on florid even by Codrin’s standards.They knew that they were prone to many of the same types of writing, but this man took it to an extreme that they could not have expected before.
At first, Codrin wondered why it was that this author had chosen to be a part of the interview process, why it was that Dear had recommended him. He seemed, on the surface to be entirely uninteresting. He was an author. That was that.
Cousin, deciding to prepare for the interview, had read two of Rankin's books. They were not without their Merit, but they did take a good bit of work to get through. He seemed to write most often about contemporary life within the system. However, much of his work was tied to a sense of magical realism that was, Codrin had to admit, fairly enticing. This was something that Codrin has never managed to capture themself, and so they set aside some time to study the ways in which Rankin used surrealism to, without distracting, enhance the story at hand.
His name was Joseph Rankin, and while Codrin had not read any of his works prior to the suggestion, he had certainly heard the name in various literary circles that ey trawled on occasion. A man prone to grand literary gestures, one who leaned heavily on the twisting of endless sentences, ceaseless streams of fragments, prose that bordered on florid even by Codrin’s relatively flowery standards.Ey knew that ey were prone to many of the same pitfalls, but this man took it to an extreme that they found frankly unreasonable.
Cousin, to prepare for the interview, had read two of Rankin's books. They were not without their merit, as might any such book that garnered so much attention, but they still took a good bit of work to get through. He wrote most often about contemporary life within the system in all its deliriously boring intricacies.
That said, much of his work was bound up in a sense of magical realism that was, ey had to admit, fairly enticing. This was something that Codrin has never managed to capture emself, and so ey set aside some time to study the ways in which Rankin used surrealism to, without distracting, enhance the story at hand.
Meeting Rankin was exactly as they had expected. There was nothing about him that did not shout Joseph Rankin. He wore his identity on his face, on his chest, in the way his hands moved across the table as they talked, there at the cafe, there sitting out on the street, there sipping their espressos.
"so, you are the illustrious Codrin Balan." he said, sipping espresso, looking over the rim of the demitasse appraisingly at Codrin.
"So, you are the illustrious Codrin Balan." His voice was imperious, veering dangerously close to pompous, as he sipped espresso, looking over the rim of the demitasse appraisingly at Codrin.
Something about the man grated at em. They were not quite sure what it was at first, whether it was the self-assured way he spoke, or the self-aggrandizing expression he wore on his face. The man was nigh intolerable.
Something about the man grated at em. Ey was not quite sure what it was at first, whether it was the self-assured way he spoke, or the self-aggrandizing expression he wore on his face. Nigh on intolerable.
All the same, ey tried eir best to wear a smile on their face as they spoke. "And you're Joseph Rankin. It's a pleasure to finally get the chance to meet you in the flesh. Thank y--"
All the same, ey tried eir best to keep up eir smile as ey spoke. "And you're Joseph Rankin. It's a pleasure to finally get the chance to meet you in the flesh. Thank y--"
"What a curious choice of phrase, in the flesh." His voice was droll, bored. "Have you stopped to think of all of the little idioms we bring with us from phys-side? Even that term! Phys-side. It spells out very plainly that we do not exist in that form any longer. We exist in *opposition* to it. Sys-side contains no such sense of our abstract existence."
"What a curious choice of phrase, in the flesh." His tone was droll, bored. "Have you stopped to think of all of the little idioms we bring with us from 'phys-side'? Even that term! Phys-side. It spells out very plainly that we do not exist in that form any longer. We exist in *opposition* to it. 'Sys-side' contains no such sense of our abstract existence."
Ey nodded, ingratiating. The man was clearly used to having the chance to expound on his own ideas, and anything that anyone else had to say was of secondary importance --- if it was important at all. Ey decided to lean into that. "What a beautiful way to put that! Do you think that the same applies to the dichotomy between L<sub>5</sub> system and launch?"
The simpering tone appeared to appeal to Rankin's sensibilities, as he smiled down to Codrin with all the patronizing disdain of *bless your heart.* "I do believe so. What can we say but 'launch-side' and 'sys-side'? Do those truly say anything about our existence here? We are hurtling out into space at some terrifying speed, driven by the spin of the station and the deliciously thin membranes of those solar sails. Ah! What a journey on which we have decided to embark! We lucky few. Those back on the System know nothing of our experiences out here, even if they have also decided to join. There is no way to accurately transmit that experience through text alone."
Hiding a grimace behind a sip of eir own espresso, Codrin jotted down the author's words. The first thing that Rankin had done upon meeting up with em was to make a similarly patronizing comment about the anachronistic nature of pen and paper. Ey had supposed at first that ey'd met a fellow admirer of fine pens, fine paper, and the joy of beautiful inks.
*Alas.*
"I've heard from my partner that--"
"Ah, yes! The illustrious Dear! How is he?"
"It. It's doing quite well."
"Right, right. *It* always did have such a strange way of moving through the world."
"If we could--" Ey cut emself off and recomposed eir plastic smile. "I've heard that you are working on a project that capitalizes on this. Can you expand on that?"
"Of course! Of course. I will always help a fellow writer." He set his cup aside and made a grand sweep of his arm. "You look around you, and you see so many going about their lives as the might have otherwise. Even I am guilty of the dalliance of getting up, drinking coffee, perhaps sitting and reading a while. We lucky few--" Codrin knew that some two and a half billion personalities were on the launches, but ey declined to comment. "--can draw so much inspiration from a project on so grand a scale. My project is one that utilizes the base nature of a personality embedded in a system that cares not about consistency between its two constituent parts.
"Before I disappeared from the L<sub>5</sub> system, I wrote an outline for a new book describing the universal feelings of exploration that are bound up in this endeavor, and now I am working writing the book which follows that outline. My counterpart on the Blue launch is doing the same --- he had better be! --- and we are sending the results of our labors back to the System to an editor who is a most trusted companion, and he is compiling them into a single book which will serve to showcase the similarities and differences that one single mind can hold when it has lost a unifying sense of self!"
Codrin wrote quickly, not just to keep up, but also to keep eir eyes on the page and away from the by now nearly dancelike gestures that Rankin was using. Ey wondered just how much of it was a conscious decision to be witnessed (and thus perhaps a deeply ingrained need to be seen and not forgotten), and how much of it was some innate characteristic of this certain, special type of asshole.
"Does that make sense, my dear Codrin?"
"Oh, yes, yes it does, Mr. Rankin."
He sat back in his seat with a self-satisfied smirk. "I think that you'll like the end product. I've read some of your own works, by the way. You pick some quite interesting projects about our post-human life, though I must admit that your style is quite dry."
"Such is the life of a historian, I suppose."
Rankin laughed. "Of course, of course, I forget myself. You'll have to send me your notes for this current project, and I'll see if I can pull them together into something coherent and readable."
Ey nodded. "Of course, I'll see about doing so when I'm done. Back to your work, however; do you have any predictions on how the works will differ?"
"The *work*, Codrin. It's a very singular work. Both me and my counterpart are writing the exact same work, and the only difference is the circumstances." He waved off any reply before continuing. "Though imagine that our two takes will begin quite similar, and then start to diverge further as time continues, such as a fork might diverge from its down-tree instance. How interesting! A work that, in some core mechanism, follows the exact same path as our daily existence."
"And you have an editor who is merging these two threads? Are they planning on doing something special with the presentation of it?"
"Yes. Yes! Of course, what is a book but an experience? A book should be delightfully difficult to read, if it is to be enjoyed to the fullest. You are engaging with a topic, you must --- *must* --- put in the same amount of effort that the author has! We have plans to arrange the two texts side-by-side, locked together at the points specified at the outline, as well as any similarities that the texts share. Imagine, Rankin#Green writing, "And so, in my heart of hearts, I knew the truth among the stars" while Rankin#blue writes, "And so, in my heart of hearts, I know the truth among the wheeling of the stars." From there, we can have the texts line up on the page, and perhaps even highlight the similarities. My editor promises that he won't send me any of the result until it's complete and ready for manuscript sign off, lest #Blue's writing influence my own."