update from sparkleup
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<p>“How do I get to it?”</p>
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<p>“Why, that is the final step in the tutorial. Project an intent to visit ‘home’. This will work for any sim name you are provided, so long as it is either public or you have been invited by the sim owner.” Another smile tickles at the corner of the guide’s mouth. “For instance, if you would like a lovely cup of coffee, may I recommend The Alley Cat? You may find it at Old Town Square#58289a40.”</p>
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<p>“Oh, well…alright. Thank you, I guess.”</p>
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<p>The construct bows. “My pleasure. Please enjoy, and do not hesitate to ask for help on the new uploads assistance feed.”</p>
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<p>I bow back and step out of the orientation sim with a wish.</p>
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<p>“My pleasure.”</p>
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<p>“I don’t suppose you have a name?”</p>
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<p>The construct bows. “You may call me what you wish, but I am patterned off one of my creators, Then I Must In All Ways Be Earnest of the Ode clade.” I must look nonplussed, as the construct laughs, waving a hand dismissively. “You will learn, my dear. Please enjoy, and do not hesitate to ask for help on the new uploads assistance feed.”</p>
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<p>I hesitate, bow back, and step out of the orientation sim with a wish.</p>
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<hr />
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<p>Those early days are heady for me. I do indeed get a very good coffee at The Alley Cat, though not without a moment of embarrassment as I have to ask the constructs working behind the bar how to pay.</p>
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<p>“No need,” they say, sounding far less personal than the guide I’d met. “Reputation cost deducted automatically. No need.”</p>
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<p>Ah well, like I said, pretty damn good coffee.</p>
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<p>I spend a few days just poking around Old Town Square and its environs. At night, I step home to my little apartment, sleep for a while, browse the feeds, maybe take a shower. Then in the morning, I’m back to the public sim, poking through the various shops — I spend the most time in the one specializing in impossible shapes — or going for a hike up to the natural park environment just beyond the pedestrian mall.</p>
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<p>I eat, I sleep, I explore, and I fork. I fork like mad.</p>
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<p>There is a cost to forking — after all, that new me takes up space on the System’s hardware, too — but only if you let the two instances linger for more than five minutes. It makes sense: if forking is the easiest way to work in these huge changes, then that gives you a buffer to do so.</p>
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<p>So I fork, holding in mind a change, and then my new instance and I discuss how it works out, and if it’s good, the old instance quit and the new instance becomes the only me. I learn early on to make small changes, as trying to hold too much in my head at once just leads to a confused jumble of an appearance. I fork my hair smoother, less dry. I fork my face rounder and softer. I fork my breasts rounder and my hips curvier. I fork myself shorter.</p>
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<p>In short, I guess I kind of complete the transition I’d started back phys-side.</p>
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<p>It’s thrilling and terrifying, leaving behind that old version of myself. What happens if I fuck up and don’t like who I become? What if the wrong me quits? Would I die?</p>
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<p>The feeds help me out immensely, here. With nearly two trillion instances, I’m hardly the first trans girl to upload to get away from a less-than-ideal life. I’m hardly the first one struck with a case of the genders uploading to hunt for a cure.</p>
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<p>Here’s what I learn:</p>
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<ul>
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<li>Don’t fucking worry.</li>
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</ul>
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<p>Sure enough, I can’t quit without another fork already in existence. It’s like pressing against a membrane: maybe I could push through, but it’s like Lagrange doesn’t want me to. Also, I find that if I focus hard enough, I can fork back into the version of myself who originally uploaded.</p>
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<p>So I keep on forking and forking and forking until I…well, I guess I look a little bit like the guide who introduced me here. Sure, I’ve got longer hair and I’m not quite as stocky as she was, but I pass. </p>
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<p>I don’t just pass, I <em>am</em> that girl. Not quite the same one I dreamed, so long ago, but I just plain am that girl.</p>
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<p>Don’t fucking worry, indeed.</p>
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<p>It’s my third day there when I start to get pretty actively lonely, and instead of digging into the sims and shops and yet more restaurants, I start hunting for people.</p>
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<p>Old Town Square is surprisingly chill, in terms of crowds. Sure, there’s little knots of people that wander down the brick-paved pedestrian mall, or folks out in ones and twos enjoying the sun and their own cups of coffee, but it’s hardly as packed as I would have assumed for a system containing so many people.</p>
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<p>The amount of sims listed on the perisystem architecture about blows my head off when I check. There has to be millions, maybe billions of sims I could go looking into.</p>
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<p>Which makes sense, I suppose. With the reputation I have, I could probably get started on a sim; it’s not that expensive.</p>
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<p>I haven’t the faintest how to do so, nor the faintest idea of where to start, so I do the first thing that comes to mind and ask someone at The Alley Cat where they’d go to start seeing more of the world. The person I ask shrugs and gestures behind them toward a door set in the wall. I’d assumed it led out to a patio out back or something, a sign above it reads “Infinite Café#06f4e37a — Thanks For Stopping By!”</p>
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<p>I step through the door and immediately fall to my knees.</p>
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<p>The street I walk out onto is far more packed than Old Town Square, yes, but it also seems to go on pretty much forever. The further down the street I look, the more it seems to rise until, sure enough, it rises right up into the sky and continues around in a loop until back where I am. So large is the diameter of this loop that the street above me looks like a shimmering thread draped lazily across the dazzling blue sky.</p>
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<p>“What the fuck…”</p>
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<p>Someone beside me laughs, and I look up to someone towering above me, offering a hand to help me stand. They’re tall — taller even than I was back phys-side — with long, hair that sits between frizzy and curly, and a rather chic looking tee to go with a pair of what look to be scrub pants. Messenger bag, glasses. They’re delightfully gender. Visibly and effortlessly transfeminine. “Come, stand. It is a lot, is it not?”</p>
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<p>“Uh…yeah,” I say, wobbling up to my feet with their assistance. Looking around shows me people. People and people and people. Across the street: another café, stuffed to the brim with people. Down the street: yet another coffee shop, a furry of some sort staring longingly at a display of pastries within. “What the hell is this place?”</p>
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<p>“Infinite Café.” They laugh, not unkindly. “Every café sim on Lagrange is invited to have a back door that opens onto this street. You could walk for a month here and not see half of the cafés on offer.”</p>
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<p>“Jesus.”</p>
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<p>“There are…ah, looks like fifty-eight cafés with Jesus in their name, yes.”</p>
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<p>I snort.</p>
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<p>“Come, walk with me,” they say.</p>
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<p>“Why?”</p>
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<p>“Fuck if I know. I am starting to feel awkward standing in front of this place waiting for you.”</p>
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<p>I fall into step beside them as we start to make our way down the street. “Wait, hold on. Waiting for me?”</p>
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<p>“Yes. In All Ways said I ought to keep an eye out for you.”</p>
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<p>“In All– wait, the construct? The orientation guide?”</p>
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<p>“Her construct, yes. She keeps vague tabs on uploads that pass through her orientation settings.”</p>
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<p>“And she kept tabs on me?”</p>
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<p>They shrug, smiling. The smile is kind enough and earnest enough to take the wind out of my suspicion’s sails. “You seemed interesting enough to her, apparently. Seem nice to me, too. You can call me My.”</p>
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<p>“My…like me, my, mine?” I say, sounding stupid even to myself.</p>
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<p>They laugh. “Just like that, yes. Hold My Name Beneath Your Tongue And Know of the Ode clade. Just ‘My’ is fine. She/her.”</p>
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<p>“That’s the second time I’ve heard Ode clade, and I still don’t get it.”</p>
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<p>“A clade is just a group of people forked from the same root instance. I am quite far diverged from my root instance. Certainly further than In All Ways is. You look a little like her, you know that?”</p>
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<p>Caught. I panic.</p>
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<p>She rests a hand gently on my elbow and tuts. “Hey, hush. It is okay.”</p>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2023-09-20</p>
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