update from sparkleup
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Madison Scott-Clary
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<h1 id="tycho-braheartemis-2346">Tycho Brahe#Artemis — 2346</h1>
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<p>The dream repeated that night.</p>
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<p>The dream repeated each night.</p>
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<p>And as before, the hallway continued however many miles dream-logic determined it must, and as before, he kept walking down it, kept walking and walking and walking, right hand always trailing along the wall. That wall was of smooth stone, something coarser than marble and smoother than concrete, and as he felt it play out beneath his fingers, he heard the voices ahead of him.</p>
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<p>And there was a room, there ahead of him. He could see the light spilling into the comparatively dim hallway. Sunlight, cool and bright. He could see that the left-hand wall of the hallway continued. A corner, then, the hallway dumping him out into the southeast corner of the room. Southeast…how did he know that?</p>
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<p>And there on that wall, shadows played. Shadows of leaves, the arc of a fountain.</p>
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<p>And then he turned the corner.</p>
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<p>And then he was blinded by the sun.</p>
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<p>And then he awoke, the lights of the room staring down at him reprovingly.</p>
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<p>The dream seemed determined always to cling to him, as it had the day before, and even as he showered and dressed, even after True Name once more met him at his door and handed him his coffee, he tried as hard as he could to remember even the smallest detail of those voices.</p>
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<p>The dream seemed determined always to cling to him, as it had the day before and the day before that, and even as he showered and dressed, even after True Name once more met him at his door and handed him his coffee, he tried as hard as he could to remember even the smallest detail of those voices.</p>
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<p>“You seem distracted today,” the skunk observed. “Not just tired. What is on your mind?”</p>
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<p>He jolted to awareness and smiled sheepishly to her. “Uh, just a dream sticking with me from last night. Second night in a row I’ve dreamed about them.”</p>
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<p>“The Artemisians?”</p>
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<p>There was moment of silence as True Name stood at the entrance to the central work area, sipping her coffee. After a moment, Answers Will Not Help showed up before her.</p>
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<p>“Morning, dear,” she said. “Everything alright?”</p>
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<p>“Tycho would like to take a few hours to work on a message to the Artemisians. Are you alright with that?”</p>
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<p>The woman laughed and nodded. “Oh, by all means. We will get by without him for a bit. See you at lunch, Mr. Brahe?”</p>
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<p>The woman laughed and nodded. “Oh, by all means. We will get by without him for a bit. See you at lunch, Dr. Brahe?”</p>
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<p>He nodded.</p>
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<p>After a moment, another woman showed up, looking almost identical to Answers Will Not Help. Perhaps a long-lived fork, though the ebullience was toned down somewhat. Still the same grin, still the weekend outfit. “Tycho Brahe, yes? True Name says I will be helping you out on this writing a letter.”</p>
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<p>After a moment, another woman showed up, looking almost identical to Answers Will Not Help. Perhaps a long-lived fork, though the ebullience was toned down somewhat. Still the same grin — but kinder. Still the casual dress — but more weekend oriented. “Tycho Brahe, yes? True Name says I will be helping you out on this writing a letter.”</p>
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<p>“Oh, uh,” he frowned. “I guess so. Answers Will Not Help?”</p>
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<p>She waved her hand in a non-answer, instead beckoning him over to another door along the wall. “Come on. Let us get this going. I am excited to hear what you come up with.”</p>
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<p>True Name raised her coffee cup to him and smile. “Good luck, Tycho. Do keep in touch. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.</p>
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<p>True Name raised her coffee cup to him and smile. “Good luck, Tycho. Do keep in touch.”</p>
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<p>Once they’d made it into the office — much smaller than the conference room where he’d initially met Sovanna and Dr. Verda.</p>
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<p>They sat on opposite sides of a desk, where the woman swiped into existence two notepads and two pens. “Alright, so I have been told that you had a dream. Tell me about this.”</p>
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<p>As he did, she jotted down details on her own notepads, occasionally asking him questions — did he remember what the air smelled like? Were there human voices as well? Why were you anxious about being found out? — and though it felt silly at first, he realized that she had teased out greater details of what it was that his dreaming mind was curious about.</p>
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<p>She nodded.</p>
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<p>“What about when each of the races joined? That would give us an idea of how long they’ve been around.”</p>
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<p>“Good one.” She grinned, tapping her pen against the table. “I knew we kept you around for a reason.”</p>
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<p>Had she said it in any other tone of voice, had all these Odists not been so good at choosing his responses for him, it could have easily come off as insulting, but it was said with such obvious affection that he laughed. Something about her was ever-so-slightly different from Answers Will Not Help, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. She was more earnest, perhaps. More focused on making him feel good rather than only seeming always on the edge of laughter.</p>
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<p>Had she said it in any other tone of voice, had all these Odists not been so good at choosing his responses for him, it could have easily come off as insulting, but it was said with such obvious affection that he laughed. Something about her was ever-so-slightly different from Answers Will Not Help, though he couldn’t put his finger on what. She was more earnest, perhaps. More focused on making him feel good rather than only seeming always on the edge of laughter. Perhaps this Why Ask Questions who would be among the delegates, the one who had eaten with Tycho#Tasker.</p>
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<p>And yet she’d not given her name, and so he was forced to consider the ‘long-lived fork’ scenario.</p>
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<p><em>This is why I’m a tasker,</em> ey thought. <em>I’ll never understand clades.</em></p>
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<p>“Should we also ask where they came from?” she continued.</p>
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<p>He frowned. “I don’t know about that one. It can be a very involved answer. Perhaps a separate set of questions for science down the line, since those will take them more time to come up with. Maybe we can come up with a list of questions to have them prepare answers for at the conference.”</p>
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<p>“Oh! Delightful idea!” She paused, and he imagined that she must be sending off a note to one of her cocladists. “We will tackle that a separate time. I agree with you, though, that keeping this to more cultural and social topics will help. We can offer similar in return. Let us ask about leisure activities, then. What kind of stories do they tell? How do they tell them? Is storytelling limited to certain individuals, or considered a skilled trade? Is there a concept of work to make leisure time important?”</p>
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<p>He laughed, struggling to re-comb his hair with only his fingers, once more surprised at just how comfortable she made him feel. He liked her, whoever she was.</p>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-12-19</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2022-01-03</p>
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