From 242b1661d626f6944fcacd982679a6a2bde5a1db Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001
From: Madison Scott-Clary <mscottclary@nvidia.com>
Date: Sun, 17 Oct 2021 10:15:10 -0700
Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup

---
 writing/post-self/toledot/index.html          |  8 +++---
 .../toledot/launch/phys/Douglas/001.html      | 28 +++++++++----------
 .../toledot/secession/sys/Michelle/001.html   | 11 ++++----
 3 files changed, 24 insertions(+), 23 deletions(-)

diff --git a/writing/post-self/toledot/index.html b/writing/post-self/toledot/index.html
index 75d1f88e1..0dc0fc4c3 100644
--- a/writing/post-self/toledot/index.html
+++ b/writing/post-self/toledot/index.html
@@ -96,11 +96,11 @@
 </ul>
 </li>
 <li class="done3"> Part I - Departure<ul>
-<li class="done3"> <a href="launch/sys/Ioan/001.html">Launch: sys-side: Ioan</a> - A death-day celebration - 3543</li>
+<li class="done4"> <a href="launch/sys/Ioan/001.html">Launch: sys-side: Ioan</a> - A death-day celebration - 3543</li>
 <li class="rejected"> MERGED ABOVE <!--<a href="launch/sys/Ioan/002.html">Launch: sys-side: Ioan</a> - Expanding scope - 1351 --></li>
-<li class="done3"> <a href="launch/phys/Douglas/001.html">Launch: phys-side: Douglas</a> - Douglas feels a feel while working on the launch - 3836</li>
+<li class="done4"> <a href="launch/phys/Douglas/001.html">Launch: phys-side: Douglas</a> - Douglas feels a feel while working on the launch - 3836</li>
 <li class="rejected"> MERGED ABOVE <!-- <a href="launch/phys/Douglas/002.html">Launch: phys-side: Douglas</a> - Douglas and May write to each other about the launch - 2722 --></li>
-<li class="done3"> <a href="secession/sys/Michelle/001.html">Secession: sys-side: Michelle</a> - Michelle dies among her clade, passing on tasks to first lines (True Name gets launch) - 1131</li>
+<li class="done4"> <a href="secession/sys/Michelle/001.html">Secession: sys-side: Michelle</a> - Michelle dies among her clade, passing on tasks to first lines (True Name gets launch) - 1131</li>
 <li class="rejected"> <!--<a href="launch/phys/de/001.html">Launch: phys-side: de</a> - -->REJECTED: de no longer a POV character<!-- - Disappointed that launch went through regardless, walks the station in a daze, thinking backwards from current thought - 887~~~--></li>
 <li class="done3"> <a href="secession/phys/Yared/001.html">Secession: phys-side: Yared</a> - Yared uploads, the final before secession - 3080</li>
 </ul>
@@ -297,7 +297,7 @@
 </ul>
             </article>
             <footer>
-                <p>Page generated on 2021-10-14</p>
+                <p>Page generated on 2021-10-17</p>
             </footer>
         </main>
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diff --git a/writing/post-self/toledot/launch/phys/Douglas/001.html b/writing/post-self/toledot/launch/phys/Douglas/001.html
index ff7dd7c79..1a0bdeb76 100644
--- a/writing/post-self/toledot/launch/phys/Douglas/001.html
+++ b/writing/post-self/toledot/launch/phys/Douglas/001.html
@@ -13,25 +13,25 @@
             </header>
             <article class="content">
                 <h1 id="douglas-hadje-2325">Douglas Hadje &mdash; 2325</h1>
-<p>When Douglas Hadje pressed his hands against the sides of the L<sub>5</sub> System, he always imagined that he could sense his aunt along with however many &lsquo;great&rsquo;s preceded that title, sense all of those years separating him from her, and he pressed his hands against the outside of the system every chance that he could get. If he was sure that he was alone &mdash; and he often was &mdash; he would press his forehead to the glassy, diamondoid cylinder and wish, hope, dream that he could say even one word to her. His people, now nearly two centuries distant from the founding of the System, forever felt on the verge of true speciation, of mutual incomprehensibility, from those within. Did they still think they same? Did they still feel the same? Their hopes were doubtless different, but were their dreams?</p>
+<p>When Douglas Hadje pressed his hands against the sides of the L<sub>5</sub> System, he always imagined that he could sense his aunt along with however many &lsquo;great&rsquo;s preceded that title, sense all of those years separating him from her, and he pressed his hands against the outside of the system every chance he could get. If he was sure that he was alone &mdash; and he often was &mdash; he would press his forehead to the glassy, diamondoid cylinder and wish, hope, dream that he could say even one word to her. His people, humanity, now nearly two centuries distant from the founding of the System, forever felt on the verge of true speciation, of mutual incomprehensibility, from those within. Did they still think they same? Did they still feel the same? Their hopes were doubtless different, but were their dreams?</p>
 <p>But always his hands were separated from the structure by that thin layer of skinsuit, and always his helmet was in the way of the carbon shell, and always he was at least one reality away from them.</p>
-<p>He would spend his five minutes there, connected and not by touch, thinking of this or that, thinking of nothing at all, and then he would kick away from the cylinder out the dozen or so meters to the ceiling of his home, climb through the airlock, and perhaps go lay down.</p>
+<p>He would spend his five minutes there, connected and not by touch, thinking of this or that, thinking of nothing at all, and then he would climb away from the cylinder down the ladder, down the dozen or so meters to the ceiling of his home, climb through the airlock, and perhaps go lay down.</p>
 <p>Others knew of this. They had to. All movement outside the habitat portion of the system was tightly controlled. Everything was on video, recorded directly from his eyes through his exo. All audio was recorded.</p>
 <p>But he never spoke, and he always closed his eyes. For some unknown reason, he was permitted this small dalliance.</p>
-<p>The System sat stationary at the Earth-Moon L<sub>5</sub> point, a stable orbit with relation to the Earth and moon such that it only very rarely required any correction to its position. Once a day, as the point rotated beyond Earth from the point of view of the sun and more briefly by the moon, it fell into darkness, but other than that, it was bathed in sunlight unmoderated by atmosphere. It rotated at a stately pace in relation to the moon and Earth such that its vast solar collector was always pointed toward the sun.</p>
-<p>The station itself comprised three main parts. At the core of the station was the diamondoid cylinder, fifty meters in diameter and five hundred meters in length. The solar collector was attached to the sunward end of the cylinder, spreading out in a series of one hundred sixty thousand replaceable panels, one meter square each, held in a lattice of carbon fiber struts. Surrounding the cylinder was a torus, two hundred meters in diameter and as long as core cylinder itself, such that it was forever hidden from the sun by the solar collectors. Seventy-seven acres, of living space, working space, factories, and arable land, all lit by bundles of doped fiber optic cables which collected and distributed the light from space and cast it down from the ceiling. The entire contraption rotated nearly three times per minute, fast enough that he had an approximation of Earth&rsquo;s gravity.</p>
+<p>The System sat stationary at the Earth-Moon L<sub>5</sub> point, a stable orbit with relation to the earth and moon such that it only very rarely required any correction to its position. Once a day, as the point rotated beyond Earth from the point of view of the sun and more briefly by the moon, it fell into darkness, but other than that, it was bathed in sunlight unmoderated by atmosphere. It rotated at a stately pace in relation to the moon and Earth such that its vast solar collector was always pointed toward the sun.</p>
+<p>The station itself comprised three main parts. At the core of the station was the diamondoid cylinder, fifty meters in diameter and five hundred meters in length. The solar collector was attached to the sunward end of the cylinder, spreading out in a series of one hundred sixty thousand replaceable panels, one meter square each, held in a lattice of carbon fiber struts. Surrounding the cylinder was a torus, two hundred meters in diameter and as long as core cylinder itself, such that it was forever hidden from the sun by the solar collectors. Seventy-seven acres, of living space, working space, factories, and arable land, all lit by bundles of doped fiber optic cables which collected and distributed the light from space and cast it down from the ceiling. The entire contraption rotated nearly three times per minute, fast enough that they had an approximation of Earth&rsquo;s gravity.</p>
 <p>That is where Douglas lived along with about twenty others.</p>
 <p>To fund such a project, the torus had originally operated as a tourist destination. Many of the living spaces consisted of repurposed hotel rooms. It had long since ceased to serve in that capacity as humanity&rsquo;s curiosity for space dwindled and spaceflight from earth once again began to rise in price.</p>
 <p>To build such a project, the area had been cleared of much of the Trojan asteroids that had collected there, either used for raw materials or slung out into space into eccentric orbits that would keep them from impacting earth or winding up once again captured in the same Legrange point. Even still, one of the many jobs was to monitor the area for newly captured rocks and divert or collect them as needed. The material could be used for new solar panels, or perhaps the two five thousand kilometer long launch arms sprouting on opposing sides of the torus, the Hall Effect Engines that kept the rotation of the system constant as the arms had been extruded from its surface, or of course the two new cylindrical systems at the tips of those arms that had, over the last two decades, been constructed as half-scale duplicates of the core.</p>
 <p>Little of this mattered to Douglas.</p>
-<p>He was, he was forever told, a people person. He was an administrator, a boss, a manager. It was his job to direct and guide and herd people into doing what was required for this twenty-year project. He was forever told that he had the empathy and skills to lead, though he forever doubted it</p>
-<p>He cared about this with a fervor that was dimmed only by the idea that, somewhere within the mirror-box that was the System cylinder, his distant aunt dwelt.</p>
-<p>Douglas was the launch director. He was the <em>director</em>. He was high enough on the food chain that he had ungated access to the textual communication line that connected the phys-side world to the sys-side world. He was the director, and he knew that, if he wished, all he need do was pull up the program and type up a letter, run it past security, and click &lsquo;send&rsquo;, and Michelle, his generations-gone aunt, would somehow receive it.</p>
+<p>He was, he was forever told, a people person. He was an administrator, a boss, a manager. It was his job to direct and guide and herd people into doing what was required for this twenty-year project. He was forever told that he had the empathy and skills to lead, though he forever doubted it.</p>
+<p>He simply cared about this with a fervor that was dimmed only by the idea that, somewhere within the mirror-box that was the System cylinder, his distant ancestor dwelt.</p>
+<p>Douglas was the launch director. He was the <em>director</em>. He was high enough on the food chain that he had ungated access to the textual communication line that connected the phys-side world to the sys-side world. He was the director, and he knew that, if he wished, all he need do was pull up the program, type up a letter, run it past security, click &lsquo;send&rsquo;, and Michelle, his generations-gone aunt, would somehow receive it.</p>
 <p>And yet he never did.</p>
 <p>He didn&rsquo;t know why. He asked himself again and again what it was that kept him from reaching out to her. Was it that speciation? Was it the confounding societal differences? Was it that unfathomable distance between the physical and the dream? He did not know, he did not know.</p>
-<p>Instead, he worked. He oversaw the construction of the Launch Vehicle Systems, those two smaller cylinders that would be, in a few days, released from either end of the launch arms at incredible speed. He worked with the sys-side launch coordinator to ensure that everything was working appropriately, that the micro-Ansible connection between the main system and the launch vessels was appropriately transferring entire identities.</p>
+<p>Instead, he worked. He oversaw the construction of the Launch Vehicle Systems, those two smaller cylinders that would be, in a few days, released from either end of the launch arms at incredible tangential velocity. He worked with the sys-side launch coordinator to ensure that everything was working appropriately, that the micro-Ansible connection between the main system and the launch vessels was appropriately transferring entire identities.</p>
 <p>Who this coordinator was, this confusingly-named May Then My Name Die With Me, he had no idea.</p>
-<p>He needn&rsquo;t even message Michelle directly. He had May Then My Name Die With Me, perhaps she would know. He could ask her. She could mediate.</p>
+<p>He needn&rsquo;t even message Michelle directly. He had May Then My Name Die With Me, perhaps she would know her. He could ask her. She could mediate.</p>
 <p>And still, he never did.</p>
 <hr />
 <blockquote>
@@ -104,7 +104,7 @@
 <ul>
 <li>How do you feel about what you know of the founding of the System?</li>
 <li>If you were suddenly removed from your position as director, what would you choose to do as a career in its stead?</li>
-<li>If you were suddenly removed from your location in the extrasystem station and returned to Earth, how would you feel and what would you expect?</li>
+<li>If you were suddenly removed from your location in the extra-System station and returned to Earth, how would you feel and what would you expect?</li>
 <li>If the System shut down and all personalities irrevocably lost, how would you feel?</li>
 </ul>
 <h3 id="gestalt">Gestalt</h3>
@@ -258,7 +258,7 @@ Launch director</p>
 <hr />
 <h2 id="message-stream">Message stream</h2>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> The launch vehicles in their sabots are settled into their creches and the doors are shut. Everyone&rsquo;s excited, but I&rsquo;m pleased at the calm efficiency of the control tower I&rsquo;m in (Pollux). We are 1deg offset spinward from the launch arm, so we should be able to see the launch well enough, but the arm appears to disappear into nothingness &ldquo;below&rdquo; us after about 100m, so the show won&rsquo;t be great past then. We&rsquo;ll all be watching the cameras. Even those won&rsquo;t be very exciting, given the speed the LVs will be going. Models suggest that we might feel a jerk and fluctuation in gravity, that will be quickly compensated by the engines.</p>
-<p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Given your apparent interest in the subjective aspects of the launch, I have to say that I wish there was a big red button I could hit to trigger the launch. Wouldn&rsquo;t that be satisfying? I picture it like one of the keyboards, where there&rsquo;s some sort of spring in there, and a satisfying click as the button snaps down that last bit and makes some physical electric contact Everything&rsquo;s done on a timer, however, and the chances of any manual intervention being required are essentially zero. Everyone in the tower here is essentially in place to take in data and give reports. I didn&rsquo;t receive permission to pass those on directly, however, so you&rsquo;re left with them being filtered through yours truly.</p>
+<p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Given your apparent interest in the subjective aspects of the launch, I have to say that I wish there was a big red button I could hit to trigger the launch. Wouldn&rsquo;t that be satisfying? I picture it like one of the keyboards, where there&rsquo;s some sort of spring in there, and a satisfying click as the button snaps down that last bit and makes some physical electric contact. Everything&rsquo;s done on a timer, however, and the chances of any manual intervention being required are essentially zero. Everyone in the tower here is in place to take in data and give reports. I didn&rsquo;t receive permission to pass those on directly, however, so you&rsquo;re left with them being filtered through yours truly.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> One minute.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Thirty seconds.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Ten seconds. Godspeed.</p>
@@ -275,8 +275,8 @@ Launch director</p>
 <p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> How do you feel with 20 years of work gone in an instant?</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> I&rsquo;m still processing that. Numb? Giddy? Can I be both at the same time?</p>
 <p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> I see no reason why not. Why numb? Why giddy?</p>
-<p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Numb because there was nothing to see. Not even a flash. The LVs were here, and then they were gone, and I&rsquo;ll never see them again. Giddy because it worked. Telemetry is good, speed is nominal, entanglement is nominal, radio communication is nominal, though the rate at which message times are increasing is surprising, though I knew that this would happy. How neat is that?</p>
-<p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> Very neat. I feel much the same. I feel numb for the reason I mentioned above. They were here, and then they were gone, and there was no feedback from the action. We are still talking despite this. This is where the numb and the giddy cross, as in some ways, it feels as though they never left (modulo the fact that Dear would almost certainly rather talk via sensorium messages rather than text, but Codrin (Dear&rsquo;s pet historian) is much suited to words. Giddy, though, because this remains exciting for all of us, both here and on the LVs, and already they diverge, already they are no longer the ones who left here, already they are no longer us.</p>
+<p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Numb because there was nothing to see. Not even a flash. The LVs were here, and then they were gone. I&rsquo;ll never see them again. Giddy because it worked. Telemetry is good, speed is nominal, entanglement is nominal, radio communication is nominal, though the rate at which message times are increasing is surprising, though I knew that this would happen. How neat is that?</p>
+<p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> Very neat. I feel much the same. I feel numb for the reason I mentioned above. They were here, and then they were gone, and there was no feedback from the action. We are still talking despite this. This is where the numb and the giddy cross, as, in some ways, it feels as though they never left (modulo the fact that Dear would almost certainly rather talk via sensorium messages rather than text), but Codrin (Dear&rsquo;s pet historian) is much suited to words. Giddy, though, because this remains exciting for all of us, both here and on the LVs. Already they diverge, already they are no longer the ones who left here, already they are no longer us.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> That&rsquo;s not something I can picture, but I&rsquo;ll trust you on that.</p>
 <p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> Different worlds, different problems. I must see to Ioan and to writing. Douglas, congratulations once more, and I will stay in contact regarding the LVs and my research.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Thank you for all your hard work, May Then My Name Die With Me.</p>
@@ -285,7 +285,7 @@ Launch director</p>
 <p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> You too.</p>
             </article>
             <footer>
-                <p>Page generated on 2021-10-13</p>
+                <p>Page generated on 2021-10-17</p>
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diff --git a/writing/post-self/toledot/secession/sys/Michelle/001.html b/writing/post-self/toledot/secession/sys/Michelle/001.html
index 2f7d36430..2df877095 100644
--- a/writing/post-self/toledot/secession/sys/Michelle/001.html
+++ b/writing/post-self/toledot/secession/sys/Michelle/001.html
@@ -17,11 +17,12 @@
 <p>Come to me.</p>
 <p>Come alone.</p>
 </blockquote>
-<p>That was all that the message said.</p>
+<p>That was all that the message had said.</p>
 <p>Michelle had long considered this moment, and just as long considered what she might say. She was of two minds. She was of two minds.</p>
 <p>The part of her that desired knowledge, that craved a reason in all things, that part of her felt compelled to give an explanation. It felt the need to rationalize and understand and comprehend, and it craved the knowledge that others also understood.</p>
-<p>That part was Sasha. That had felt inverted to her, at first. Was not Michelle the rational one? She was the one who had maintained her ties to her body. She was the one who remembered all of the <em>things</em>, all of the <em>actions</em> of her past. She was the one who wanted to fork and keep all of those memories.</p>
-<p>But instead it was Sasha who felt incomplete, unwhole, when her reasons were unspoken. Eventually her gestalt came to the awareness that this was because Sasha <em>was</em> the one who felt, just as Michelle was the one who remembered, and thus she was also the part that desired compassion above all things. She wanted to explain herself so that others would not be left hurt. She was the one who decided, in the end, not to fork, to fix, to repair. Those memories that mattered &mdash; really, truly mattered &mdash; all of her instances already shared.</p>
+<p>That part was Sasha.</p>
+<p>That had felt inverted to her, at first. Was not Michelle the rational one? She was the one who had maintained her ties to her body. She was the one who remembered all of the <em>things</em>, all of the <em>actions</em> of her past. She was the one who wanted to fork and keep all of those memories.</p>
+<p>But instead it was Sasha who felt incomplete, unwhole, when her reasons were unspoken. Eventually her gestalt came to the awareness that this was because Sasha was the one who felt, just as Michelle was the one who remembered, and thus she was also the part that desired compassion above all things. She wanted to explain herself so that others would not be left hurt. She was the one who decided, in the end, not to fork, to fix, to repair. Those memories that mattered &mdash; really, truly mattered &mdash; all of her instances already shared.</p>
 <p>Michelle did not want to tell anyone.</p>
 <p>She was of two minds/she was of two minds.</p>
 <p>So she edited and rewrote and pared her message down. Thousands of words. Hundreds of words. Ninety-nine words. Ten words. Two commands. A duality like her.</p>
@@ -48,7 +49,7 @@
 <p>There were more crying eyes in the crowd now, and she was crying/she was crying.</p>
 <p>Her voice wavered, but she asked all the same. &ldquo;Please fork. Please fork and merge down-tree.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>In less than five seconds, the number of copies of her had doubled, and some inner part of her/some inner part of her smiled, sensing now that doubling that she felt as a core part of her being expressed in all those versions of herself that had grown these last nearly two centuries.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Since then &mdash; &lsquo;tis Centuries &mdash; and yet Feels shorter than the Day&ndash;&rdquo; she thought/she murmured, words borne of a thought/of a memory. Many of the clade joined. &ldquo;I first surmised the Horses&rsquo; Heads Were toward Eternity &mdash;&ldquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Since then &mdash; &lsquo;tis Centuries &mdash; and yet Feels shorter than the Day&ndash;&rdquo; she thought/she murmured, words borne of a thought/of a memory. A few of the clade who could hear her weak voice joined. &ldquo;I first surmised the Horses&rsquo; Heads Were toward Eternity &mdash;&ldquo;</p>
 <p>Many were sitting now, some were pulling at tufts of grass, stalks of dandelions, anything to ground themselves.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I just want&hellip;we just want to experience&hellip;a little more,&rdquo; she choked out. &ldquo;Can you give us that?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>The reasons for the forks became clear, now, and over the next hour &mdash; for some had diverged so far that a great amount of effort was required to reconcile conflicts &mdash; they began to merge their outermost instances down-tree, down-tree, down toward the root. Many looked shell-shocked as years and decades and centuries of memories poured into them, and then were passed on down. Many looked as mad as she felt.</p>
@@ -67,7 +68,7 @@
 <p>And then she quit.</p>
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-                <p>Page generated on 2021-10-13</p>
+                <p>Page generated on 2021-10-17</p>
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