update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/ge-cast.md

@@ -8,6 +8,17 @@
 
 ## Script
 
+<style>
+dl, p {
+    font-family: "Ubuntu Mono", monospace;
+}
+
+dt {
+    text-transform: uppercase;
+}
+</style>
+
+
 Narrator 1
 :   A night on the town. A bar for an aperitif. A light dinner at a modern restaurant, one of those places with default sensoria settings that turn up the taste inputs and turn down the visual inputs, so that you eat intensely delicious food amidst a thick, purple fog. Another bar, livelier and less painfully modern, for a digestif.
 
@@ -424,3 +435,105 @@ Narrator 1
 :   At that, it quits.
 
     You drop your arms and sigh, thinking for a moment before heading for the stairs.
+
+A silent pause.
+
+Narrator 2
+:   But now, we're back at the beginning, aren't we? We're back to that first fork, when it all seemed so simple. We're back to the choice of the two doors, and the other instance of yours, that one follows the other Dear through the door to the left.
+
+Narrator 1
+:   You, smirking, take the right.
+
+    The room you wind up in is smaller even than the foyer, and the ticket-holders have to press even closer together. The audience that winds up here is the most diverse, containing the entire group of Taskers who wound up at this (apparently primarily Dispersionista) event. As such, the press is met with uncomfortable silence: one doesn't normally talk about dissolution strategies with strangers, but Dear has deftly forced it to be an issue.
+
+    There's no sign on the fox's face that it knows what it has done. Just that calm, polite smile. Curious. How can one know that a fox is smiling rather than snarling or something, much less that the smile is polite. Perhaps styled after those old cartoons of anthropomorphic animals, or simply just an impression.
+
+Dear
+:   Thank you. Much cozier in here.
+
+Narrator 2
+:   Right.
+
+Narrator 1
+:   The taskers do not look cozy.
+
+    You suppose it makes sense. There are bits of this that appeal to all: forking for a specific purpose, instances accomplishing goals. This was flagrant abuse of that in their eyes, however, given that these instances will likely move on and live their own lives. Independent, individual instances.
+
+Dear
+:   I would like to elaborate on my previous point. This exhibition is about the idea of instance creation as art, and in that sense, it is the easiest job I have ever had. Instance creation *is* art.
+
+Some muttering.
+
+Dear
+:   (interrupting) All instance creation. This show is about utilizing that consciously, but all instance creation is art. It is structured experience. The Taskers, and I believe you are all here? The Taskers are the tightest adherents to structure. The most baroque.
+
+Narrator 1
+:   Dear, Also, The Tree That Was Felled forks once more, an identical copy of itself appearing standing just next to the original. The instance quickly quits and dissipates. An example, perhaps.
+
+Dear
+:   The goal of this exhibition is not to just talk about that, though, it is to explore the creative limits of forking as art.
+
+Narrator 1
+:   Dear forks once more, but this time into two additional instances. One short, stocky human, holding up her hand just as the original instance still holds up its paw. And on the other side of Dear, a small animal --- smaller than you expected, the size of a small cat --- that you suppose is the fennec mentioned in the program, colored in creamy tan fur. It becomes clear that the primary Dear is a synthesis between the two.
+
+    The human Dear reaches out to shake one of the audience members hands while the fox dashes toward the crowd, weaving its way between legs in a good simulacrum of an animal attempting to escape.
+    
+    Something about the fennec catches your eye as it zips through the crowd. It doesn't seem to be following any pattern, but its motions remain purposeful. It seems to be...perhaps, making eye contact with each person in the room?
+
+    And then it comes to you.
+
+    And it looks up to you.
+
+    And winks.
+    
+Narrator 2
+:   Can fennecs do that?
+
+Narrator 1
+    The strange critter holds your gaze for longer than some wild animal should, or so it feels, but the moment is broken by the soft sound of Dear clearing its throat at the front of the room.
+
+Dear
+:   The next room is just through here. If you will follow me, please.
+
+Narrator 1
+:   It's difficult to deny the tiny critter before you, to tear your eyes away from it. Easy enough to forget that its an instance of Dear as it leads the tour onwards. Perhaps if you could just dally a little and get a closer look before moving on.
+
+    And then the explosion happens.
+    
+An explosion. The audience shouts and scrambles.
+
+Narrator 2
+:   Cliché as it is, the lights go out. Perfect.
+
+Narrator 1
+    You, daring, intrigued, perhaps a bit upset, fork. You follow. You keep heading left, where the fennec was going, pushing past scrambling attendees to get to the wall. The left wall, you reason, is a shared wall with the other room, the one which the other Dear had led the other half of the group through. There's probably a door between the two, though you hadn't had the chance to get a look, or perhaps you could break through.
+
+    The smoke thickens. It has a lemony, sulfurous smell that, although it's never something you've smelled before, makes you think of bullets, grenades, gunpowder.
+
+    In the dim light and confusion, you find the wall by abruptly slamming into it. Indeed, there's a door a few hand-spans away, and a tiny critter with big ears scratching frantically at it.
+
+    You shuffle quickly over to the door, barely able to see for the smoke and dimness, and grab at the handle, praying that it's unlocked.
+    
+    The handle turns.
+    
+The sound of a door opening
+
+Narrator 1
+:   You fall through.
+
+Sudden silence, a bit of wind.
+
+Narrator 1
+:   It's a strange sensation to step from a cramped, crowded, loud, dark, and smoky room into such a space as this.
+
+    The fall you took couldn't have been more than a few feet, but even now, your senses still feel knocked slightly out of place. To have a space like this, one that's bigger on the inside than on the outside, or outside when it should be indoors, underground, is certainly possible. It's easy. It's just also incredibly rude. In most sims, it's even illegal. In this one, you vaguely remember hearing that it requires a permit.
+
+Narrator 2
+:   But here you are.
+
+Narrator 1
+:   You and a tiny fennec.
+
+\phantom{You} {\footnotesize and a lapis sky.}
+
+\phantom{You and}{\tiny endless green fields.}