update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/ge-cast-fountain.html

@@ -36,9 +36,9 @@ And&hellip;</p>
 Programs. Explanations. Elucidations. Errata. Words to chuckle over with your group of friends.</p>
 <p>NARRATOR 2
 Dear, Also, The Tree That Was Felled, of the Ode clade is pleased to welcome you to its gallery opening. Tonight, it has prepared for you a modest exhibition of its works within the realm of instance artistry. This is presented at the culmination of its tenure as Fellow, though the name rankles, of Instance Art in the Simien Fang School of Art and Design.</p>
+<p>A door opening.</p>
 <p>NARRATOR 1
-And the sound of a door opening</p>
-<p>A short, slight&hellip;thing, steps from the next room through one of the two doors on the far wall and calls for attention. To call it a person seems almost misleading. It&rsquo;s a dog. A well-dressed dog? A glance further on in the program offers a glib explanation:</p>
+A short, slight&hellip;thing, steps from the next room through one of the two doors on the far wall and calls for attention. To call it a person seems almost misleading. It&rsquo;s a dog. A well-dressed dog? A glance further on in the program offers a glib explanation:</p>
 <p>NARRATOR 2
 (As though reading)
 <strong>The Artist</strong>
@@ -93,6 +93,7 @@ And here perhaps we must take a step back and acknowledge the fact that this is
 How do you remember it, these many years later? How do you take the fact that so much happened simultaneously that night and you merged so incautiously after that even your very own memories argue with you? How do you square <em>love story</em> with <em>corrupted memories</em> and still love the one you do?
 You take a step back and acknowledge it.
 You acknowledge it because you forked. You followed both Dears, damn the consequences.</p>
+<p>INT. A SMALLER ROOM</p>
 <p>NARRATOR 1
 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 least diverse, containing none of the Taskers and very few of the Trackers who wound up at this - apparently primarily Dispersionista - event. As such, the press is met with uncomfortable silence: one doesn&rsquo;t normally talk about dissolution strategies with strangers, but Dear has deftly forced it to be an issue.
 There&rsquo;s no sign on the fox&rsquo;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.</p>
@@ -135,7 +136,9 @@ Though perhaps &lsquo;audience members&rsquo; is the correct term once more</p>
 It is still smiling</p>
 <p>Shouting continues.</p>
 <p>NARRATOR 1
-It opens the next door.
+It opens the next door.</p>
+<p>INT. A SOMEWHAT LARGER BUT MORE CROWDED ROOM</p>
+<p>NARRATOR 1
 The crush is far more intense than expected, as you find both halves of the audience rejoined and dumped back into a dark and already crowded room.
 Already crowded with several instances.
 Dear has forked itself several times and each of those instances are forking again, until there&rsquo;s easily twice as many instances of Dear as there are audience members.
@@ -154,8 +157,10 @@ What the fuck do you think you&rsquo;re doing?</p>
 The fennec snarls at you and, with surprising force, grabs your forearm and, using itself as a pivot, swings you around through about a quarter-circle&rsquo;s arc. It keeps its paws on your arm, one on your elbow to keep it straight and one on your wrist, and shoves you back by lunging forward.
 It lets you go and, in one complex motion, aims a swipe at your face with one paw while the other slams, palm flat, against its jacket pocket.
 Something happens to the floor beneath your feet.</p>
+<p>A loud crunch.</p>
 <p>NARRATOR 2
 You fall.</p>
+<p>INT. A LARGE ROOM - EMPTY AND ECHOEY</p>
 <p>NARRATOR 1
 The room into which you and this feral Dear fall is cylindrical. Walls of concrete, floor of packed dirt. The part of your mind still working on an intellectual level finds this funny, cliché.
 That&rsquo;s also the part of your mind that notices the default settings for sensoria and collision in this room are much, much different than the previous room. Full sensation, with collision detection algorithms turned way down.</p>
@@ -202,7 +207,7 @@ The pain of it&rsquo;s teeth lodging in your skin is enough to make you cry out.
 You feel its right arm slip away and are too busy trying to gain the advantage to realize why until the paw swings back in front of you.
 When you see the syringe&hellip;</p>
 <p>NARRATOR 2
-&hellip;that symbol of death, a way to crash your instance&hellip;</p>
+&hellip;that symbol of death, here in this uploaded world, a way to crash your instance&hellip;</p>
 <p>NARRATOR 1
 &hellip;you panic and fork. As does Dear, and now there are two of you, two fights, two dances.
 You scramble frantically to get away from the fennec, but its grip around your neck with its arm and its teeth is too strong.
@@ -288,6 +293,7 @@ You drop your arms and sigh, thinking for a moment before heading for the stairs
 <p>A silent pause.</p>
 <p>NARRATOR 2
 But now, we&rsquo;re back at the beginning, aren&rsquo;t we? We&rsquo;re back to that first fork, when it all seemed so simple. We&rsquo;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.</p>
+<p>INT. A SMALL ROOM</p>
 <p>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 &mdash; apparently primarily Dispersionista &mdash; event. As such, the press is met with uncomfortable silence: one doesn&rsquo;t normally talk about dissolution strategies with strangers, but Dear has deftly forced it to be an issue.

writing/post-self/ge-cast.html

@@ -983,9 +983,8 @@ dd p:first-of-type {
 <dd>You will yourself to tamp that hate down, if only for the sake of propriety.</dd>
 <dt>You</dt>
 <dd>I don&rsquo;t like it, but I think I understand why.</dd>
-</dl>
-<p>DEAR nods, offers a hint of a bow, and backs away.</p>
-<dl>
+<dt>Narrator 1</dt>
+<dd>Dear nods, offers a hint of a bow, and backs away.</dd>
 <dt>Dear</dt>
 <dd>That is my job.</dd>
 <dt>Narrator 1</dt>
@@ -1007,14 +1006,12 @@ dd p:first-of-type {
 <dd>You feel a heat rise to your cheeks. A blush? Deeper anger? </dd>
 <dt>You</dt>
 <dd>I&hellip;I mean, I didn&rsquo;t&ndash;</dd>
-</dl>
-<p>DEAR holds up a paw, indicating silence. It seems fond of the gesture.</p>
-<dl>
+<dt>Narrator 1</dt>
+<dd>Dear holds up a paw, indicating silence. It seems fond of the gesture.</dd>
 <dt>Dear</dt>
 <dd>I knew. I expected it from at least one member in the audience. There is always one.</dd>
-</dl>
-<p>It smiles. You find it a touch odd that the smile is simple and kind, not sly and knowing, not triumphant, and you&rsquo;re not sure why. Not sure why it smiles in that way? Not sure why you find it odd? Perhaps both.</p>
-<dl>
+<dt>Narrator 1</dt>
+<dd>It smiles. You find it a touch odd that the smile is simple and kind, not sly and knowing, not triumphant, and you&rsquo;re not sure why. Not sure why it smiles in that way? Not sure why you find it odd? Perhaps both.</dd>
 <dt>You</dt>
 <dd>Is it okay?</dd>
 <dt>Dear</dt>
@@ -1209,7 +1206,7 @@ dd p:first-of-type {
 </dl>
             </article>
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-                <p>Page generated on 2021-12-27</p>
+                <p>Page generated on 2021-12-29</p>
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