From 7334867f0a325c7a83382e861ea0ba297ee449fa Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Scott-Clary Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2022 00:00:11 -0800 Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup --- writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/016.html | 13 ++++++++----- 1 file changed, 8 insertions(+), 5 deletions(-) diff --git a/writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/016.html b/writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/016.html index a94e91a1d..f323e2a44 100644 --- a/writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/016.html +++ b/writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/016.html @@ -13,14 +13,17 @@

Tycho Brahe — 2346

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Convergence T+28 days, 5 hours, 57 minutes
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“I don’t own a suit, and while I could have picked one up, it seemed like too much work for the occasion,” Tycho said once the clock struck eight and he’d stood from his seat at the head of the table. “So the usual jeans and flannel it is.”

Those gathered laughed.

-

They’d claimed a portion of the plaza for his last dinner, setting up a long table not too dissimilar from that which they’d sat at for the conference. He had sat at one end, and at the other True Name sat, smiling and watching him rise for his speech. To his right sat Codrin and eir two partners, both of whom had spent much of the evening conversing with each other and the few scientists who sat to his left. He’d not missed the fact that they seemed to be ignoring the other three Odists as best they could other than to accept praise for the food they’d cooked for the occasion.

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They’d claimed a portion of the plaza for his last dinner, setting up a long table not too dissimilar from that which they’d sat at for the conference. He had sat at one end, and at the other True Name sat, smiling and watching him rise for his speech. To his right sat Codrin and eir two partners, both of whom had spent much of the evening conversing with each other and the few scientists who sat to his left and the Artemisians beyond. He’d not missed the fact that they seemed to be ignoring the other three Odists as best they could other than to accept praise for the food they’d cooked for the occasion.

Those scientists included Dr. Verda and several of his other colleagues who had served as on-duty astronomer for Castor throughout the long years.

Beyond them, to either side of the table, sat a gaggle of Artemisians. Both Turun Ka and Turun Ko were there, despite not partaking in the meal. Stolon and Iska sat across from them and had both tried the various dishes to greater or lesser success. Artante sat next to them across from Sarah Genet, and they had spent much of the meal talking with the quiet, earnest professionalism of those who shared therapeutic psychology as an interest.

Beyond them, Sovanna sat across from Answers Will Not Help — a move that surely must have been intentional — and beside Jonas. Across from Jonas, Why Ask Questions sat beside the final guest, True Name.

The dinner had been his idea, and the speech True Name’s. He’d balked at it originally, but in the end, she’d won out, convincing him that if he was headed to a place where he could forget, making his last moments on Castor memorable should be a priority.

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Luckily, for all his nerves, he’d always done well at giving talks at conferences, and the two glasses of wine he’d already had certainly helped.

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Luckily, for all his nerves, he’d always done well at giving talks at conferences, and the two and a half glasses of wine he’d already had certainly helped.

“When it was suggested that I give a little speech before I go, I was at a loss for what to talk about. I mean, I guess I could talk about the stars or something, but I’ve bored enough of you to death already with that, and Stolon and I will have time enough on Artemis.”

The thirdracer chattered their teeth, looking pleased.

“It wasn’t until I realized that this would be something of a eulogy that I started getting ideas on what to talk about. I talked with Dear about it and it laughed and told me about some thoughts that it had around Launch. I didn’t know any of them then, but apparently it and its partners had a Death Day party, and that’s kind of what this is, isn’t it? I’m dying to many of you, only to haunt you from beyond the grave with vague pronouncements about the heavens for a little while.

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“I only have one more snippet of poetry to leave you with, and it will be my goodbye. It’ll be the last thing I say on Castor, and trust me when I say that those words made me dizzy the first time I thought of them. ‘Last thing I say on Castor’. I’ll cease being here. I’ll cease being among a place that is all — or, now, a majority — my own species. I’ll cease being on anything made around our own dear Sun.

“I could draw out such a goodbye, but I won’t. Not more than I already have. You’ll have your memories, won’t you?”

He lifted his half-full glass of wine to the sky and, even as the other members of the dinner began to lift theirs, downed it in two coarse swallows. “Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light. I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”

-

Perhaps they said goodbye to him, calling out. Perhaps some of them did cry, as he knew he would if he stayed any longer.

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Perhaps they toasted to him. Perhaps they said goodbye to him, calling out. Perhaps some of them did cry, as he knew he would if he stayed any longer.

He didn’t know.

Before he could look, before he could listen, he set his glass down, turned on his heel and walked straight into the customs building.

Within, there was a small pedestal that bore a plaque he’d read countless times by now: Place your hand on the pedestal below and hold it there for ten seconds. This is a transfer process of the current instance, so please be sure to leave a fork behind.

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He did not leave a fork behind. He simply closed his eyes, put his hand on the pedestal, and waited.

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He did not leave a fork behind. He simply closed his eyes, put his hand on the pedestal, and waited, counting heartbeats.

There it was.

There was that slippery feeling to time. There was that change in atmosphere, that change in pressure, that change in ACLs. There was that change in the way the very fabric of the world was woven.

There, too, was Stolon standing just outside the gazebo that served as the arrival point from Castor.

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“Anem. It is finished.”