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Madison Scott-Clary 2024-04-13 08:55:10 -07:00
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<p>Hanne laughed and shook her head, standing from the couch to go get herself a glass of water. </p>
<p>With a rush of intent, I forked, bringing into being beside me a new instance of myself. Exactly the same. <em>Precisely</em>. Had such a thing any meaning to an upload, we would be the same down to the atomic level, to the subatomic. All of the memories, all of the personality, all of the history.</p>
<p>For a fraction of a second, at least. From that point on, we began to diverge, each remembering things differently. The Reed that still sat on the couch heard Hanne in the kitchen from <em>this</em> angle, yet the one that stood beside the couch heard her from that. The one that sat on the couch felt the fire on his cheek, the one standing felt it on his back. I watched this other Reed — a new instance of me without these demanding memories, one who would not have the shared memories of my up-tree cocladists — wander off to the bedroom to presumably stay out of the way while I processed.</p>
<p>I closed my eyes to turn down one of my senses, setting the sweet-smelling glass of brandy aside to rid myself of another as best I could. I sat and spent a moment processing, savoring the memories. Rush had merged down first; ve had split off a new copy of verself, and then the original had quit. On doing so, all the memories ve&rsquo;d formed over the last year fell down onto me, ready to be remembered like some forgotten word on the tip of my tongue: all I needed to do is actually remember. Clearly, Tule had already forked and merged back down into Sedge, as their combined memories piled yet more weight on me. Three sets of memories — two from my direct up-tree instances and one from a second-degree up-tree instance — rested on my mind, ready for integration.</p>
<p>I closed my eyes to turn down one of my senses, setting the sweet-smelling glass of brandy aside to rid myself of another as best I could. I sat and spent a moment processing, savoring the memories. Rush had merged down first; ve had split off a new copy of verself, and then the original had quit. On doing so, all the memories ve&rsquo;d formed over the last however long fell down onto me, ready to be remembered like some forgotten word on the tip of my tongue: all I needed to do is actually remember. Clearly, Tule had already forked and merged back down into Sedge, as their combined memories piled yet more weight on me. Three sets of memories — two from my direct up-tree instances and one from a second-degree up-tree instance — rested on my mind, ready for integration.</p>
<p>There&rsquo;d be time for Marsh to do their full perusal and remembering later. It was rapidly approaching midnight, and I needed to get the memories sorted into my own, interleaved and zippered together into as cohesive a whole as best I could manage, all conflicts addressed — though with as separate as their lives had been until then, there was thankfully quite little in the way of conflicting memories — so that, shortly before midnight, I could quit and let all those memories — those of Rush, Sedge, Tule, and myself — fall to Marsh to process, savor, and treasure for themself, while that new copy of me, off making the bed or simply taking some quiet, lived out the next year with Hanne, with all their joys and sorrows. </p>
<p>After so many New Years Eves, this had all become routine. Some years, I kept the memories, some not. It had been a nearly a decade since I&rsquo;d bothered, and there didn&rsquo;t seem to be any reason to do different this year.</p>
<p>I heard Hanne return, heard her climb back onto the couch before me, felt her press a cold glass of water into my hand.</p>
<p>I heard Hanne return, heard her climb back onto the couch beside me, felt her press a cold glass of water into my hand.</p>
<p>Five minutes left.</p>
<p>Three.</p>
<p>23:58, and I opened my eyes and smiled. &ldquo;Well, seems like it&rsquo;s been a pleasant enough year for everyone involved, though Marsh will deal with all the rest of that later.&rdquo;</p>