update from sparkleup
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<p>I nodded, took a few long gulps of water, and, with a press of will, brought into being beside us a new instance of myself. Exactly the same. <em>Exactly</em>. Had such a thing any meaning to the uploaded consciousness, we would have been the same down to the atomic level, to the subatomic. All of the memories, all of the personality, all of the love and hate and past that made us <em>us</em>.</p>
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<p>For a fraction of a second, at least. From there, we began to diverge, each remembering things differently. The Reed that still sat on the couch sees Hanne from <em>this</em> angle, and yet the one that stood beside the couch sees her from that. The one that sat on the couch felt the fire on his cheek, the one standing felt it on his back.</p>
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<p>“Alright. I love you, Miss Hanne Marie. I’ll think of you often.”</p>
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<p>She rolls her eyes. “No you won’t. Tell Marsh I said hi.”</p>
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<p>I laugh and, as the clock strikes midnight, willed myself to quit.</p>
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<p>Then frown.</p>
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<p>She rolled her eyes. “No you won’t. Tell Marsh I said hi.”</p>
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<p>I laughed and, as the clock strikes midnight, willed myself to quit.</p>
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<p>Then frowned.</p>
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<p>“Something wrong?”</p>
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<p>I hold up a finger and close my eyes. Once more, I think to myself, <em>I’m ready to quit</em>, then then will that to be reality. </p>
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<p>Rather than the sudden nothingness that should followed, I feel the System balk. Resist. I feel an elastic sensation that I’ve never felt before. There’s a barrier between me and the ability to quit. I feel it, test it, probe and explore. It’s undeniably present, and though I sense that I could probably press through it if I desire, it’s as though Lagrange desperately does not want me to quit. It doesn’t want the Reed of now to leave the System.</p>
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<p>I held up a finger and closed my eyes. Once more, I thought to myself, <em>I’m ready to quit</em>, then then willed that to be reality. </p>
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<p>Rather than the sudden nothingness that should have followed, I felt the System balk. Resist. I felt an elastic sensation that I’d never felt before. There was a barrier between me and the ability to quit. I felt it, tested it, probed and explored. It was undeniably present, and though I sensed that I could probably have pressed through it if I desired, it was as though Lagrange desperately did not want me to quit. It didn’t want the Reed of now to leave the System.</p>
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<p>“I can’t.”</p>
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<p>“You can’t?” Hanne tilts her head, then leans forward to take one of my hands in her own. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I don’t think Marsh will mind if you’re a few minutes late. Hell, you can even send them a message saying you don’t want to this year. I think they’ll–”</p>
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<p>“No, Hanne,” I say, carefully slipping my hand free so that I can stand. I need to pace. I nod to my new fork, who quits. I decline the merge. “I mean I can’t. I’m not able to. It’s impossible. Or possible, but– wait, hold on.”</p>
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<p>It’s been more than a decade since I’ve done so, but if ever there was a time, this was it. There are very few reasons that the System would try to stop an instance for quitting and one of them…well, no– It’s been more than a decade since I’d broken the communication embargo, but I send Marsh a gentle ping.</p>
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<p>Or <em>try</em> to, at least.</p>
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<p>All the ping is is a gentle nudge against the recipient’s sensorium, a sense that someone is looking for them, is seeking them out, is just checking if they were free, if they’re even there. From the sender’s side, it feels like a gentle touch, a brush of some more metaphorical finger against the symbolic shoulder of the recipient, a reassurance that they are indeed there.</p>
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<p>But there’s nothing. I feel nothing. No sense of Marsh. Attempting to send a sensorium ping to someone that doesn’t exist just feels like daydreaming. It feels like a silly, pointless imagining, as though one was imagining that they could touch God on the shoulder or shake hands with the devil.</p>
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<p>I frown, ping Hanne.</p>
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<p>“What?” she says, her frown deepening.</p>
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<p>“You can’t?” Hanne tilted her head, then leaned forward to take one of my hands in her own. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I don’t think Marsh will mind if you’re a few minutes late. Hell, you can even send them a message saying you don’t want to this year. I think they’ll–”</p>
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<p>“No, Hanne,” I said, carefully slipping my hand free so that I could stand. I needed to pace. I nodded to my new fork, who quit. I declined the merge. “I mean I can’t. I’m not able to. It’s impossible. Or possible, but– wait, hold on.”</p>
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<p>It had been more than a decade since I’d done so, but if ever there was a time, this was it. There were very few reasons that the System would try to stop an instance for quitting and one of them…well, no– It’d been more than a decade since I had broken the communication embargo, but I sent Marsh a gentle ping.</p>
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<p>Or <em>tried</em> to, at least.</p>
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<p>All the ping was was a gentle nudge against the recipient’s sensorium, a sense that someone was looking for them, was seeking them out, was just checking if they were free, if they were even there. From the sender’s side, it felt like a gentle touch, a brush of some more metaphorical finger against the symbolic shoulder of the recipient, a reassurance that they were indeed there.</p>
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<p>But there was nothing. I felt nothing. No sense of Marsh. Attempting to send a sensorium ping to someone that doesn’t exist just felt like daydreaming. It felt like a silly, pointless imagining, as though one was imagining that they could touch God on the shoulder or shake hands with the devil.</p>
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<p>I frowned, pinged Hanne.</p>
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<p>“What?” she said, her frown deepening.</p>
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<p>“Hold on, one more sec.”</p>
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<p>00:02.</p>
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<p>I think across the clade, think of one of Marsh’s other forks. Ping Lily.</p>
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<p>The response is immediate, words flowing into my consciousness through some sense that’s not quite hearing. <em>“What’s happening? I can’t–”</em></p>
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<p>Ping Cress, the other fork. Asks, <em>“Cress? Can you–”</em></p>
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<p><em>“What the fuck is happening?”</em> comes the panicked response.</p>
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<p><em>“My place,”</em> I send back, followed by my address. I repeat the message to Lily and, on a whim, my own up-tree instances, Rush, Sedge, and Tule.</p>
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<p>I thought across the clade, thought of one of Marsh’s other forks. Pinged Lily.</p>
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<p>The response was immediate, words flowing into my consciousness through some sense that wasn’t quite hearing. <em>“What’s happening? I can’t–”</em></p>
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<p>Pinged Cress, the other fork. Asked, <em>“Cress? Can you–”</em></p>
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<p><em>“What the fuck is happening?”</em> came the panicked response.</p>
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<p><em>“My place,”</em> I sent back, followed by my address. I repeated the message to Lily and, on a whim, my own up-tree instances, Rush, Sedge, and Tule.</p>
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<p>00:04.</p>
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<p>Cress arrives almost immediately along with Tule — they share a partner, so it makes sense they’d be together for the evening — leading Hanne to start back on the couch. “Reed,” she says, voice low. “What is–”</p>
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<p>Lily arrives next, already rushing forward to grab my shoulder. “You can’t either?” she says, voice full of panic.</p>
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<p>Before I can answer, Sedge and Rush arrive. The living room’s become quite crowded, all five of the other instances of the Marsh clade clamoring over each other to talk to me, the first long-lived fork from Marsh.</p>
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<p>“Reed!” Hanne shouts, standing and stamping her foot. She speaks carefully, and I can hear anger just beneath that tone. “What happened?”</p>
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<p>The rest of the clade looks to me as well, and I quail under so many gazes. “I can’t quit. I can’t merge down. I can’t reach Marsh. They–” my voice gives out and I have to take a shaky sip of water. “They’re not on Lagrange, as far as I can tell.”</p>
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<p>Cress arrived almost immediately along with Tule — they shared a partner, so it made sense they’d be together for the evening — leading Hanne to start back on the couch. “Reed,” she said, voice low. “What is–”</p>
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<p>Lily arrived next, already rushing forward to grab my shoulder. “You can’t either?” she said, voice full of panic.</p>
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<p>Before I could answer, Sedge and Rush arrived. The living room became quite crowded, all five of the other instances of the Marsh clade clamoring over each other to talk to me, the first long-lived fork from Marsh.</p>
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<p>“Reed!” Hanne shouted, standing and stamping her foot. She spoke carefully, and I could hear anger just beneath that tone. “What happened?”</p>
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<p>The rest of the clade looked to me as well, and I quailed under so many gazes. “I can’t quit. I can’t merge down. I can’t reach Marsh. They–” my voice gave out and I had to take a shaky sip of water. “They’re not on Lagrange, as far as I can tell.”</p>
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<p>00:07.</p>
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<!----->
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