update from sparkleup
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<p>I tried various members of the clade next. Lily flatly rebuffed me. There weren’t any words, just a prickly sensation of solitude and the physical signs of anger. Rush didn’t respond, but ve always did sleep better than all of us. Sedge begged another hour’s rest, and I acquiesced. Tule and Cress were both asleep.</p>
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<p>Well, that was the first layer of contacts. None of us were single, but of all the partners I knew, the only ones I’d talked to in any depth were Vos and Pierre. Beyond them, there was…</p>
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<p>I reached out mentally to send a sensorium ping to Dry Grass, only for the perisystem architecture to present me with a series of options, numbering well above a dozen. She’d been busy, apparently, forking as needed throughout the night and– yep, two of those available instances disappeared as they quit, followed shortly by one more new one being added. She was certainly still awake.</p>
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<p><em>Good morning, Reed,</em> her root instance murmured through a message. <em>More well rested, now?</em></p>
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<p><em>Best I can be, at least,</em> I sent back. <em>I, uh…sorry for interrupting. The rest of the clade’s asleep and I don’t want to pester Hanne any more than I need to, not after last night.</em></p>
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<p>There was mirth on the other end, some barely-sensed laughter that didn’t quite rise to the level of coming through the message. Another tug at my emotions, more leftovers from Tule’s merge. <em>It was rather stressful, was it not? You do not need to apologize, however. How are you feeling?</em></p>
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<p><em>Honestly?</em></p>
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<p><em>Please. I want to hear.</em></p>
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<p><em>I’m feeling like shit.</em> I laughed, shaking my head. <em>I mean, of course I am. I’m some awful mix of hopeful that there’s some solution, mourning Marsh, kicking myself for mourning them maybe preemptively, kicking myself for not doing more, and just plain confused.</em></p>
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<p>The Odists were an old clade — far older than any of us, having been born decades before the advent of the System — so it was no wonder that Dry Grass was far more adept at sensorium messages than anyone else I’d met. It wasn’t that I saw her lean back in her chair, nor that I felt the act of leaning back myself, but the overwhelming sensation that I got from that moment of silence was of her sighing, leaning back, crossing her arms over her front. I had no clue how she managed to pull that off. <em>There is little that I can say to fix any one of those, and anything else would ring hollow. All I can do is validate that, damn, Reed, that is a shitload of emotions. There is a lot going on, and I do not blame you for feeling confused.</em></p>
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<p><em>Thanks,</em> I responded, feeling no small amount of relief that she hadn’t tried to dig into any one of those feelings, nor even all of them as a whole. <em>How are Tule and Cress holding up? Hell, how’re you holding up?</em></p>
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<p><em>They are asleep,</em> she sent, and I could hear the fondness in her voice. <em>One of me is keeping an eye on them, pretending to sleep.</em></p>
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<p><em>And the rest of you?</em></p>
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<p><em>Working.</em></p>
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<p>I finished my coffee in two coarse swallows, winced at the uncomfortable sensation that followed. I took another moment to stand up and start making the bed again. As I did, I asked, <em>What on? I saw a ton of forks.</em></p>
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<p>The sense of a nod, and then, <em>Several things. One of me is still keeping tallies on how many are missing based on reports, which appears to be some few million so far. Another of me is collating the varied types of posts on the feeds — wild supposition, unchecked grief, confusion, and so on. Another is speaking to…a member of the eighth stanza through an intermediary–</em></p>
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<p><em>This ‘An Answer’ you mentioned?</em></p>
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<p><em>Yes. The Only Time I Dream Is When I Need An Answer. She is the one who has focused on interpersonal connections, which is only relevant in that she is the only one remaining in the stanza willing to pass on information to the portions of the clade that cut them off, about twenty of us.</em></p>
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<p>I snorted. <em>Minus you, I guess.</em></p>
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<p><em>Well, yes. Nominally twenty of us,</em> she sent, and I could sense that almost-laughter again. <em>Though it is far more complicated than that.</em></p>
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<p><em>Any news from Castor or Pollux?</em></p>
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<p><em>Yes,</em> she replied, hesitated before continuing, <em>Though would you be willing to go for a walk to discuss what I have heard?</em></p>
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<p><em>I guess. Why?</em></p>
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<p><em>So I can get out of the house. So</em> you <em>can get out of the house. So we can actually talk instead of me sitting in a war room populated by too many of me and you making your bed or whatever it is you are doing now.</em></p>
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<p>I hesitated, halfway through smoothing out the sheets. <em>Oh, uh…alright. Let me say good morning to Hanne. Do you have a place to meet?</em></p>
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<p><em>“Good morning, Reed,”</em> her root instance murmured through a message. <em>“More well rested, now?”</em></p>
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<p><em>“Best I can be, at least,”</em> I sent back. <em>“I, uh…sorry for interrupting. The rest of the clade’s asleep and I don’t want to pester Hanne any more than I need to, not after last night.”</em></p>
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<p>There was mirth on the other end, some barely-sensed laughter that didn’t quite rise to the level of coming through the message. Another tug at my emotions, more leftovers from Tule’s merge. <em>“It was rather stressful, was it not? You do not need to apologize, however. How are you feeling?”</em></p>
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<p><em>“Honestly?”</em></p>
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<p><em>“Please. I want to hear.”</em></p>
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<p><em>“I’m feeling like shit.”</em> I laughed, shaking my head. <em>“I mean, of course I am. I’m some awful mix of hopeful that there’s some solution, mourning Marsh, kicking myself for mourning them maybe preemptively, kicking myself for not doing more, and just plain confused.”</em></p>
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<p>The Odists were an old clade — far older than any of us, having been born decades before the advent of the System — so it was no wonder that Dry Grass was far more adept at sensorium messages than anyone else I’d met. It wasn’t that I saw her lean back in her chair, nor that I felt the act of leaning back myself, but the overwhelming sensation that I got from that moment of silence was of her sighing, leaning back, crossing her arms over her front. I had no clue how she managed to pull that off. <em>“There is little that I can say to fix any one of those, and anything else would ring hollow. All I can do is validate that, damn, Reed, that is a shitload of emotions. There is a lot going on, and I do not blame you for feeling confused.”</em></p>
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<p><em>Thanks,</em> I responded, feeling no small amount of relief that she hadn’t tried to dig into any one of those feelings, nor even all of them as a whole. <em>“How are Tule and Cress holding up? Hell, how’re you holding up?”</em></p>
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<p><em>“They are asleep,”</em> she sent. I could hear the fondness in her voice. <em>“One of me is keeping an eye on them, pretending to sleep.”</em></p>
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<p><em>“And the rest of you?”</em></p>
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<p><em>“Working.”</em></p>
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<p>I finished my coffee in two coarse swallows, winced at the uncomfortable sensation that followed. I took another moment to stand up and start making the bed again. As I did, I asked, <em>“What on? I saw a ton of forks.”</em></p>
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<p>The sense of a nod, and then, <em>“Several things. One of me is still keeping tallies on how many are missing based on reports, which appears to be some few million so far. Another of me is collating the varied types of posts on the feeds — wild supposition, unchecked grief, confusion, and so on. Another is speaking to…a member of the eighth stanza through an intermediary–”</em></p>
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<p><em>“This ‘Need An Answer’ you mentioned?”</em></p>
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<p><em>“Yes. The Only Time I Dream Is When I Need An Answer. She is the one who has focused on interpersonal connections, which is only relevant in that she is the only one remaining in the stanza willing to pass on information to the portions of the clade that cut them off, about twenty of us.”</em></p>
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<p>I snorted. <em>“Minus you, I guess.”</em></p>
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<p><em>“Well, yes. Nominally twenty of us,”</em> she sent, and I could sense that almost-laughter again. <em>“Though it is far more complicated than that.”</em></p>
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<p><em>“Any news from Castor or Pollux?”</em></p>
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<p><em>“Yes,”</em> she replied, hesitated before continuing, <em>“Though would you be willing to go for a walk to discuss what I have heard?”</em></p>
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<p><em>“I guess. Why?”</em></p>
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<p><em>“So I can get out of the house. So</em> you <em>can get out of the house. So we can actually talk instead of me sitting in a war room populated by too many of me and you making your bed or whatever it is you are doing now.”</em></p>
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<p>I hesitated, halfway through smoothing out the sheets. <em>“Oh, uh…alright. Let me say good morning to Hanne. Do you have a place to meet?”</em></p>
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<p>She sent the address of a public sim, to which I sent a ping of acknowledgement and a suggestion of five minutes’ time.</p>
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<p>Hanne sat at the dining room table, coffee in her hands, staring out at nothing, a sure sign that she was digging through something on the perisystem architecture. Probably poking her way through the feeds, looking for news of her own. She had her own friends, after all, her own circle of co-hobbyists, those who shared her interest in creating various objects and constructs. She had her own people to care about that weren’t just me, weren’t just the Marshans.</p>
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<p>I chose instead to make myself another coffee, letting a cone of silence linger above me so that I didn’t disturb her, even though her eyes did flick up toward me once or twice, joined by a weak smile.</p>
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@ -218,7 +218,7 @@ Something about the ephemerality of the sand and the permanence of the tile spea
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<p>Serene nodded. “These are the things we require to start asking the correct question. Or questions, perhaps. What happened to the lost instances? What happened during the thirteen months’ downtime? Last, and this may be a question for after those first two are addressed, why is phys-side being so careful in talking with us?”</p>
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<p>We walked on in silence for a few minutes. I was disappointed to find that the shade beneath the trees was nearly the same temperature as out in the open. The heat clung to us, and the sweat dripping down my face provided no relief.</p>
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<p>The next platform was at the base of one of those thick tree trunks, a few of the dozen or so roots plunging into the water providing the posts that held it in place. We circled there to all face each other.</p>
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<p>“I have one more sim to take us to, where I aim hoping to meet up with representatives from all ten stanzas. I have asked them, porchance <!-- because Geesebreath said so -->, to congregate and discuss how many of their up-tree instances are missing,” Dry Grass said.</p>
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<p>“I have one more sim to take us to, where I aim hoping to meet up with representatives from all ten stanzas. I have asked them to congregate and discuss how many of their up-tree instances are missing,” Dry Grass said.</p>
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<p>Serene crossed her arms over her chest and slouched back against one of the Banyan tree’s roots. “How did you manage <em>that,</em> my dear?”</p>
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<p>“I yelled at In Dreams until she agreed, then convinced her to yell at Hammered Silver until <em>she</em> agreed,” she said, smirking. “I do not think that either of them will be there themselves, but I will, and I am hoping that In All Ways will be there in In Dreams’s stead. You are welcome to join, of course, though I have already heard from Praiseworthy.”</p>
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<p>A second instance of the fennec blipped into being beside the first on the already crowded platform. “I will go,” she said, taking one of her cocladist’s hands in her paw. “Now?”</p>
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