diff --git a/writing/post-self/toledot/launch/launch/Codrin-castor/001.html b/writing/post-self/toledot/launch/launch/Codrin-castor/001.html
index 7e8e6ab6f..a9ee81745 100644
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@@ -13,12 +13,13 @@
             </header>
             <article class="content">
                 <h1 id="codrin-balancastor-2325">Codrin Bălan#Castor &mdash; 2325</h1>
-<p>After their &ldquo;deaths&rdquo;, such as they were, Dear cackled madly and ran about the still roaring bonfire, prancing and leaping, forking dozens of copies as it went. Its sim had been set up in the Launch Systems, both Castor and Pollux precisely as it had in the L<sub>5</sub> System, down to all of the decorations and flames. As soon as they had transferred themselves over to those systems &mdash; something which they had been told would take several minutes across the micro-Ansibles connecting the three systems, but which was as subjectively instantaneous as any normal transit &mdash; they were alone. The crowd was gone, the singing was gone, and any chance of reversibility had gone with. There was no way that Codrin or Dear or Dear&rsquo;s partner could ever go back, as the transit was one-way. <em>&ldquo;There is no going and there is no back,&rdquo;</em> Dear had been saying for months now.</p>
+<p>After their &ldquo;deaths&rdquo;, such as they were, Dear cackled madly and ran about the still roaring bonfire, prancing and leaping, forking dozens of copies as it went. Its sim had been set up in the Launch Systems, both Castor and Pollux, precisely as it had in the L<sub>5</sub> System, down to all of the decorations and flames. As soon as they had transferred themselves over to those systems &mdash; something which they had been told would take several minutes across the micro-Ansibles connecting the three systems, but which was as subjectively instantaneous as any normal transit &mdash; they were alone. The crowd was gone, the singing was gone, and any chance of reversibility had gone with. There was no way that Codrin or Dear or Dear&rsquo;s partner could ever go back, as the transit was one-way. <em>&ldquo;There is no going and there is no back,&rdquo;</em> Dear had been saying for months now.</p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;It is done! It is done!</em> the fox hollered. <em>&ldquo;It is done and those poor saps did not even get to finish their song! Oh, to see their faces! Crumbling sim, friends forever cut off!&rdquo;</em></p>
 <p>Dear&rsquo;s partner also laughed, hopping to their feet and chasing after the fox in a mad dash, leaving Codrin to sit and smile and watch and think.</p>
-<p>There was no more Codrin in the L<sub>5</sub> System. Had ey ever existed there? Ey was only memories, and perhaps that is all ey had ever been. Navel gazing and existential crises mixed with the glee of having actually <em>done</em> something. No longer just the passive amanuensis, but now the active participant, to whatever extent.</p>
+<p>There was no more Codrin in the L<sub>5</sub> System. Ey couldn&rsquo;t remember being there, for were the sims not the same? And if ey had never been there, had ey ever really existed there? Ey was only memories, and perhaps that is all ey had ever been. Navel gazing and existential crises mixed with the glee of having actually <em>done</em> something. No longer just the passive amanuensis, but now the active participant, to whatever extent.</p>
+<p>Or, well, nearly so, for it was Dear who talked em into this.</p>
 <p>When Dear and its partner finally collapsed into a laughing heap amid the dandelions and shortgrass, Codrin stood, raised eir hands to the fire-dimmed sky, and addressed fox and human and flames. &ldquo;Hwæt! We great three have made it! We have made it to safety and sanctuary!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Dear rolled up and focused on Codrin with a singular intensity that ey had seen countless times before and yet never gotten used to.</p>
+<p>Dear rolled up and immediately focused on Codrin with a singular intensity that ey had seen countless times before and yet never gotten used to.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;We three, the heroes, the shield-bearers of Elf Hive had long since sought the beast. It lived in the caves, they said. It dwelt in the fields and disguised itself as tall grass, ready to ensnare the traveler. It was as large as a mountain and crouched beside the valley, unseen, traversed, summited, and still it claimed lives in its hunger. Who knows the truth, now, but us three? None who met its gaze had ever lived to tell the tale, and none now will ever hear, for we are the only ones who have seen it face to face and lived, and yet we escaped only by jumping from the world up to the heavens.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;We sought it by night until we realized that it was not there&ndash;&ldquo;</p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;We sought it!&rdquo;</em> Dear shouted, hoisting a tankard that had appeared in its paw.</p>
@@ -28,7 +29,7 @@
 <p>&ldquo;The jaws that bite, the claws that catch.&rdquo; Dear&rsquo;s partner chimed in, lifting their own tankard.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;And we braved them. We braved, but though we tried, we could not best them. There was no fight to be had&ndash;&ldquo;</p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;No swords could cut it!&rdquo;</em></p>
-<p>&ldquo;No spears could pierce it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No spears could pierce it!&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;&ndash;and all we could do was hold off its attack to run away until true darkness fell and we could finally rest. The next morning we would take off running, and hope to gain some distance, but always the beast was there, ready and waiting&ndash;&ldquo;</p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;Ready to pounce!&rdquo;</em></p>
 <p>&ldquo;So we grew weary, for nothing we did could not be undone by the beast. It <em>was</em> the mountain! It <em>did</em> dwell in the grass! It <em>did</em> live in caves! It was all these things and more.&rdquo;</p>
@@ -71,7 +72,7 @@
 <p>&ldquo;And then, of course, it was her who grabbed my hand and thrust it up into the air, proclaiming me as the next prophet. It was unanimous. I was to be the one in charge.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;And you can surely guess my fate. You can surely see that it had come much sooner too, as all of those little luxuries that Dear had accumulated were now mine, and I succumbed as I knew I must to temptation.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Weird though. They skipped the fire and went straight to beheading!&rdquo; They finished with a bow and sat down grinning at the hearty applause. Both Dear and Codrin leaned in to give them a kiss on the cheek.</p>
-<p>There was silence for a while as the three of them sat and drank their ale and looked at the fire or looked at each other or looked at nothing. Perhaps they left for the prairie. Perhaps they huddled by the fire in shared warmth. Who knows? It did not matter in that moment. They were home, and they were together.</p>
+<p>There was silence for a while as the three of them sat and drank their ale and looked at the fire or looked at each other or looked at nothing. Perhaps they left to walk the prairie. Perhaps they huddled by the fire in shared warmth. Who knows? It did not matter in that moment. They were home, and they were together.</p>
 <p>It was only later, when Dear and Codrin had curled together in bed &mdash; Dear&rsquo;s partner having fallen asleep on the couch &mdash; that the fox elbowed Codrin in the side, and ey could hear the grin in its voice. <em>&ldquo;Beowulf? You are such a nerd.&rdquo;</em></p>
 <p>Codrin laughed and buried eir face in the fox&rsquo;s scruff. &ldquo;Did you doubt that I knew of Beowulf? Tsk tsk.&rdquo;</p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;Oh! I did not doubt, but the fact that you pulled that out to start a story time makes me giddy. How long had you been planning on doing that?&rdquo;</em></p>
@@ -80,7 +81,7 @@
 <p>Codrin poked a finger against the fox&rsquo;s stomach, getting a yip in return. &ldquo;Did you doubt that, too?&rdquo;</p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;It is always nice to have confirmation.&rdquo;</em></p>
 <p>&ldquo;Happy to oblige.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>There was silence for a bit. Codrin had begun to nod off.</p>
+<p>There was silence for a bit. Codrin began to nod off.</p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;Codrin?&rdquo;</em></p>
 <p>&ldquo;Mm?&rdquo;</p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;When you write back to Ioan and May Then My Name, will you send those stories instead of what our actual reasons were?&rdquo;</em></p>
@@ -101,7 +102,7 @@
 <p>They slept.</p>
             </article>
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-                <p>Page generated on 2021-09-23</p>
+                <p>Page generated on 2021-10-13</p>
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@@ -14,21 +14,22 @@
             <article class="content">
                 <h1 id="douglas-hadje-2325">Douglas Hadje &mdash; 2325</h1>
 <p>When Douglas Hadje pressed his hands against the sides of the L<sub>5</sub> System, he always imagined that he could sense his aunt along with however many &lsquo;great&rsquo;s preceded that title, sense all of those years separating him from her, and he pressed his hands against the outside of the system every chance that he could get. If he was sure that he was alone &mdash; and he often was &mdash; he would press his forehead to the glassy, diamondoid cylinder and wish, hope, dream that he could say even one word to her. His people, now nearly two centuries distant from the founding of the System, forever felt on the verge of true speciation, of mutual incomprehensibility, from those within. Did they still think they same? Did they still feel the same? Their hopes were doubtless different, but were their dreams?</p>
-<p>But always his hands were separated from the structure by that thin layer of skinsuit, and always his helmet was in the way of the diamond shell, and always he was at least one reality away from them.</p>
+<p>But always his hands were separated from the structure by that thin layer of skinsuit, and always his helmet was in the way of the carbon shell, and always he was at least one reality away from them.</p>
 <p>He would spend his five minutes there, connected and not by touch, thinking of this or that, thinking of nothing at all, and then he would kick away from the cylinder out the dozen or so meters to the ceiling of his home, climb through the airlock, and perhaps go lay down.</p>
 <p>Others knew of this. They had to. All movement outside the habitat portion of the system was tightly controlled. Everything was on video, recorded directly from his eyes through his exo. All audio was recorded.</p>
 <p>But he never spoke, and he always closed his eyes. For some unknown reason, he was permitted this small dalliance.</p>
 <p>The System sat stationary at the Earth-Moon L<sub>5</sub> point, a stable orbit with relation to the Earth and moon such that it only very rarely required any correction to its position. Once a day, as the point rotated beyond Earth from the point of view of the sun and more briefly by the moon, it fell into darkness, but other than that, it was bathed in sunlight unmoderated by atmosphere. It rotated at a stately pace in relation to the moon and Earth such that its vast solar collector was always pointed toward the sun.</p>
-<p>The station itself comprised three main parts. At the core of the station was the diamondoid cylinder, fifty meters in diameter and five hundred meters in length. The solar collector was attached to the end of the cylinder facing the sun, spreading out in a series of one hundred sixty thousand replaceable panels, one meter square each, held in a lattice of carbon fiber struts. Surrounding the cylinder was a torus, two hundred meters in diameter and as long as core cylinder itself, such that it was forever hidden from the sun by the solar collectors. Seventy-seven acres, of living space, working space, factories, and arable land, all lit by bundles of doped fiber optic cables which collected and distributed the light from space and cast it down from the ceiling. The entire contraption rotated nearly three times per minute, fast enough that he had an approximation of Earth&rsquo;s gravity.</p>
+<p>The station itself comprised three main parts. At the core of the station was the diamondoid cylinder, fifty meters in diameter and five hundred meters in length. The solar collector was attached to the sunward end of the cylinder, spreading out in a series of one hundred sixty thousand replaceable panels, one meter square each, held in a lattice of carbon fiber struts. Surrounding the cylinder was a torus, two hundred meters in diameter and as long as core cylinder itself, such that it was forever hidden from the sun by the solar collectors. Seventy-seven acres, of living space, working space, factories, and arable land, all lit by bundles of doped fiber optic cables which collected and distributed the light from space and cast it down from the ceiling. The entire contraption rotated nearly three times per minute, fast enough that he had an approximation of Earth&rsquo;s gravity.</p>
 <p>That is where Douglas lived along with about twenty others.</p>
 <p>To fund such a project, the torus had originally operated as a tourist destination. Many of the living spaces consisted of repurposed hotel rooms. It had long since ceased to serve in that capacity as humanity&rsquo;s curiosity for space dwindled and spaceflight from earth once again began to rise in price.</p>
-<p>To build such a project, the area had been cleared of much of the Trojan asteroids that had collected there, either used for raw materials or slung out into space into eccentric orbits that would keep them from impacting earth or winding up once again captured in the same Legrange point. Even still, one of the many jobs was to monitor the area for newly captured asteroids and divert or collect them as needed. The material could be used for new solar panels, or perhaps the two five thousand kilometer long launch arms sprouting on opposing sides of the torus, the Hall Force Engines that kept the rotation of the system constant as the arms had been extruded from its surface, or of course the two new cylindrical systems at the tips of those arms that had, over the last two decades, been constructed as half-scale duplicates of the core.</p>
+<p>To build such a project, the area had been cleared of much of the Trojan asteroids that had collected there, either used for raw materials or slung out into space into eccentric orbits that would keep them from impacting earth or winding up once again captured in the same Legrange point. Even still, one of the many jobs was to monitor the area for newly captured rocks and divert or collect them as needed. The material could be used for new solar panels, or perhaps the two five thousand kilometer long launch arms sprouting on opposing sides of the torus, the Hall Effect Engines that kept the rotation of the system constant as the arms had been extruded from its surface, or of course the two new cylindrical systems at the tips of those arms that had, over the last two decades, been constructed as half-scale duplicates of the core.</p>
 <p>Little of this mattered to Douglas.</p>
 <p>He was, he was forever told, a people person. He was an administrator, a boss, a manager. It was his job to direct and guide and herd people into doing what was required for this twenty-year project. He was forever told that he had the empathy and skills to lead, though he forever doubted it</p>
-<p>He cared about this with a fervor that was dimmed only by the idea that, somewhere within the mirror-box that was the System cylinder, his ancestor dwelt.</p>
-<p>Douglas was the launch director. He was the <em>director</em>. He was high enough on the food chain that he had access to the textual communication line that connected the phys-side world to the sys-side world. He was the director, and he knew that, if he wished, all he need do was pull up the program and type up a letter, run it past security, and click &lsquo;send&rsquo;, and Michelle, his generations-gone aunt, would somehow receive it.</p>
-<p>And yet he never did. He didn&rsquo;t know why. He asked himself again and again what it was that kept him from reaching out to her. Was it that speciation? Was it the confounding societal differences? Was it that unfathomable distance between the physical and the dream? He did not know, he did not know.</p>
-<p>Instead, he worked. He oversaw the construction of the launch systems, those two smaller cylinders that would be, before long now, released from either end of the launch arms at incredible speed. He worked with the sys-side launch coordinator to ensure that everything was working appropriately, that the micro-Ansible connection between the main system and the launch vessels was appropriately transferring entire identities.</p>
+<p>He cared about this with a fervor that was dimmed only by the idea that, somewhere within the mirror-box that was the System cylinder, his distant aunt dwelt.</p>
+<p>Douglas was the launch director. He was the <em>director</em>. He was high enough on the food chain that he had ungated access to the textual communication line that connected the phys-side world to the sys-side world. He was the director, and he knew that, if he wished, all he need do was pull up the program and type up a letter, run it past security, and click &lsquo;send&rsquo;, and Michelle, his generations-gone aunt, would somehow receive it.</p>
+<p>And yet he never did.</p>
+<p>He didn&rsquo;t know why. He asked himself again and again what it was that kept him from reaching out to her. Was it that speciation? Was it the confounding societal differences? Was it that unfathomable distance between the physical and the dream? He did not know, he did not know.</p>
+<p>Instead, he worked. He oversaw the construction of the Launch Vehicle Systems, those two smaller cylinders that would be, in a few days, released from either end of the launch arms at incredible speed. He worked with the sys-side launch coordinator to ensure that everything was working appropriately, that the micro-Ansible connection between the main system and the launch vessels was appropriately transferring entire identities.</p>
 <p>Who this coordinator was, this confusingly-named May Then My Name Die With Me, he had no idea.</p>
 <p>He needn&rsquo;t even message Michelle directly. He had May Then My Name Die With Me, perhaps she would know. He could ask her. She could mediate.</p>
 <p>And still, he never did.</p>
@@ -147,7 +148,7 @@
 <blockquote>
 <p>May Then My Name Die With Me,</p>
 <p>Thank you for the updated status report. I am looking forward to the launch, and will provide you the best textual description that I am able as it happens from phys-side. I will attempt to provide real-time updates, though the exigencies of the situation will take precedence. Congratulations on making it this far, and thank you for all of your help. Status report follows.</p>
-<p>While we were largely baffled by the nature of your question, the launch commission and myself have accepted the task of aiding you and your companion in your history/mythology project. Answers(?) will follow in a separate message.</p>
+<p>While we were largely baffled by the nature of your questions, the launch commission and myself have accepted the task of aiding you and your companion in your history/mythology project. Answers(?) will follow in a separate message.</p>
 <p>Thank you,</p>
 <p>Douglas Hadje, MSf, PhD<br />
 Launch director</p>
@@ -185,7 +186,7 @@ Launch director</p>
 <li><em>Launch arm integrity:</em> 100% (go)</li>
 <li><em>Launch arm path:</em> Clear (go)</li>
 <li><em>Launch arm cameras:</em> 100% (go)</li>
-<li><em>Launch vehicle path:</em> Clear to transsolar 1.8AU, 5 nines confidence (go)</li>
+<li><em>Launch vehicle path:</em> Clear to 1.8AU, 5 nines confidence (go)</li>
 <li><em>Capacitor charge:</em> 6 nines, on track to 100% (go)</li>
 <li><em>Speed:</em> 100% (go)</li>
 <li><em>Expected acceleration:</em> Nominal (go)</li>
@@ -197,7 +198,7 @@ Launch director</p>
 <li><em>Launch arm integrity:</em> 100% (go)</li>
 <li><em>Launch arm path:</em> Clear (go)</li>
 <li><em>Launch arm cameras:</em> 100% (go)</li>
-<li><em>Launch vehicle path:</em> Clear to cissolar 1.2AU, 5 nines confidence (go)</li>
+<li><em>Launch vehicle path:</em> Clear to 1.2AU, 5 nines confidence (go)</li>
 <li><em>Capacitor charge:</em> 6 nines, on track to 100% (go)</li>
 <li><em>Speed:</em> 100% (go)</li>
 <li><em>Expected acceleration:</em> Nominal (go)</li>
@@ -256,7 +257,7 @@ Launch director</p>
 <p><em>Notes:</em> We are 1% away from desired power consumption reduction on the station. While this is within tolerances, we are expecting that, with the shutdown of the glass furnace at 2330, we will hit our mark of 15% station-wide power reduction. Congratulations!</p>
 <hr />
 <h2 id="message-stream">Message stream</h2>
-<p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> The launch vehicles in their sabots are settled into their creches and the doors are shut. Everyone&rsquo;s excited, but I&rsquo;m pleased at the calm efficiency of the control tower I&rsquo;m in (Pollux). We are 1deg offset spinward from the launch arm, so we should be able to see the launch well enough, but the arm appears to disappear into nothingness after about 100m, so the show won&rsquo;t be great past then. We&rsquo;ll all be watching the cameras. Even those won&rsquo;t be very exciting, given the speed the LVs will be going. Models suggest that we might feel a jerk and fluctuation in gravity, that will be quickly compensated by the engines.</p>
+<p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> The launch vehicles in their sabots are settled into their creches and the doors are shut. Everyone&rsquo;s excited, but I&rsquo;m pleased at the calm efficiency of the control tower I&rsquo;m in (Pollux). We are 1deg offset spinward from the launch arm, so we should be able to see the launch well enough, but the arm appears to disappear into nothingness &ldquo;below&rdquo; us after about 100m, so the show won&rsquo;t be great past then. We&rsquo;ll all be watching the cameras. Even those won&rsquo;t be very exciting, given the speed the LVs will be going. Models suggest that we might feel a jerk and fluctuation in gravity, that will be quickly compensated by the engines.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Given your apparent interest in the subjective aspects of the launch, I have to say that I wish there was a big red button I could hit to trigger the launch. Wouldn&rsquo;t that be satisfying? I picture it like one of the keyboards, where there&rsquo;s some sort of spring in there, and a satisfying click as the button snaps down that last bit and makes some physical electric contact Everything&rsquo;s done on a timer, however, and the chances of any manual intervention being required are essentially zero. Everyone in the tower here is essentially in place to take in data and give reports. I didn&rsquo;t receive permission to pass those on directly, however, so you&rsquo;re left with them being filtered through yours truly.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> One minute.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Thirty seconds.</p>
@@ -268,23 +269,23 @@ Launch director</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Watching the struts flex and jolt with the release of mass is quite beautiful.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> They weren&rsquo;t kidding about the jerk. Two of them, actually, as the engines fired a half second after the jerk reached the torus. We&rsquo;ve got two injuries down here - bumps and bruises. Reports from the torus indicate that damage was minimal. Some sloshing from the hydroponics, but that&rsquo;s easy to clean up. One of the furnaces will need some care. Worst bit of damage, however, is that the solar array suffered a cascading failure: one panel broke loose and tumbled end-over-end across a few hundred others. Power&rsquo;s still nominal, though. We&rsquo;ll get it fixed.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Did you feel anything up there?</p>
-<p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> Har har. No, nothing up here. I, like you, wish that we had, though. If there had been some sudden jolt or a flicker of the lights, I think that perhaps this launch would have felt more real. I suspect that my cocladist, Dear, Also, The Tree That Was Felled, would have simulated an earthquake at the exact moment of launch, destroying its home in the process, but alas, it was one of those hopeless romantics who transferred entirely to the LVs without leaving a fork. I will have Ioan (my pet historian) ask if it did so from the LVs. I would not be surprised.</p>
+<p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> Har har. No, nothing up here. I, like you, wish that we had, though. If there had been some sudden jolt or a flicker of the lights, I think that perhaps this launch would have felt more real. I suspect that my cocladist, Dear, Also, The Tree That Was Felled, would have simulated an earthquake at the exact moment of launch, destroying its home in the process, but alas, it was one of those hopeless romantics who transferred entirely to the LVs without leaving a fork. I will have Ioan (my pet historian) ask it if it did so from the LVs. I would not be surprised.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Your clade sounds fascinating. I don&rsquo;t understand a single bit of it.</p>
 <p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> I will tell you a story one day.</p>
 <p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> How do you feel with 20 years of work gone in an instant?</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> I&rsquo;m still processing that. Numb? Giddy? Can I be both at the same time?</p>
 <p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> I see no reason why not. Why numb? Why giddy?</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Numb because there was nothing to see. Not even a flash. The LVs were here, and then they were gone, and I&rsquo;ll never see them again. Giddy because it worked. Telemetry is good, speed is nominal, entanglement is nominal, radio communication is nominal, though the rate at which message times are increasing is surprising, though I knew that this would happy. How neat is that?</p>
-<p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> Very neat. I feel much the same. I feel numb for the reason I mentioned above. They were here, and then they were gone, and there was no feedback from the action. As planned, we are hogging all of the entanglement bandwidth with communication, some of which you will be receiving on other streams. This is where the numb and the giddy cross, as in some ways, it feels as though they never left (modulo the fact that Dear would almost certainly rather talk via sensorium messages rather than text, but Codrin (Dear&rsquo;s pet historian) is much suited to words. Giddy, though, because this remains exciting for all of us, both here and on the LVs, and already they diverge, already they are no longer the ones who left here, already they are no longer us.</p>
+<p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> Very neat. I feel much the same. I feel numb for the reason I mentioned above. They were here, and then they were gone, and there was no feedback from the action. We are still talking despite this. This is where the numb and the giddy cross, as in some ways, it feels as though they never left (modulo the fact that Dear would almost certainly rather talk via sensorium messages rather than text, but Codrin (Dear&rsquo;s pet historian) is much suited to words. Giddy, though, because this remains exciting for all of us, both here and on the LVs, and already they diverge, already they are no longer the ones who left here, already they are no longer us.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> That&rsquo;s not something I can picture, but I&rsquo;ll trust you on that.</p>
-<p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> Different worlds, different problems. I must see to writing, Douglas, congratulations once more, and I will stay in contact regarding the LVs and my research.</p>
+<p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> Different worlds, different problems. I must see to Ioan and to writing. Douglas, congratulations once more, and I will stay in contact regarding the LVs and my research.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Thank you for all your hard work, May Then My Name Die With Me.</p>
 <p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> You may call me May Then My Name, now that the hard work is over.</p>
 <p><strong>Phys-side:</strong> Thanks! Be well.</p>
 <p><strong>Sys-side:</strong> You too.</p>
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-                <p>Page generated on 2021-09-25</p>
+                <p>Page generated on 2021-10-13</p>
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@@ -15,8 +15,8 @@
                 <h1 id="douglas-hadje-2325">Douglas Hadje &mdash; 2325</h1>
 <p>May Then My Name,</p>
 <p>As promised, I&rsquo;m returning to the questions you asked. The launch went well, we had our party, and now my plate is mostly clear. I have a bit of work to do with the launch arms, but responsibility has shifted over to the flight coordinator. </p>
-<p>I suspect that you are still interested in the subjective view of things. It&rsquo;s a little weird, not having so much to do all the time. I tried to sleep in this morning, but wasn&rsquo;t able to. Who knows, maybe I&rsquo;ll relax over time, or find something else to fill my days.</p>
-<p>Anyway, to your questions. These are very strange and cryptic, but in the spirit of building a mythology, I&rsquo;ll try to answer them in earnest. If you need clarifications, I&rsquo;ll be here.</p>
+<p>I suspect that you are still interested in the subjective view of things. It&rsquo;s a little weird, not having so much to do all the time. I tried to sleep in this morning, but wasn&rsquo;t able to. Who knows, maybe I&rsquo;ll relax over time, or find something else to fill my days. Take up knitting. Something.</p>
+<p>Anyway, to your questions. These were all very strange and cryptic, but in the spirit of building your mythology, I&rsquo;ll try to answer them in earnest. If you need clarifications, I&rsquo;ll be here.</p>
 <blockquote>
 <p>How long have you been working as phys-side launch director?</p>
 </blockquote>
@@ -36,9 +36,10 @@
 <blockquote>
 <p>What led you to remain phys-side rather than uploading, yourself? Will you upload in the future? Why or why not?</p>
 </blockquote>
-<p>I think I answered the first part up above, but I will add to it that there is some aspect of fear that kept me from doing so. Or, maybe not fear, but intimidation, if that makes sense? I felt like I would be outclassed there. I would be able to rub elbows with folks from 210 years ago! It makes me feel small.</p>
+<p>I think I answered the first part up above, but I will add to it that there is some aspect of fear that kept me from doing so. Or, maybe not fear, but intimidation, if that makes sense? I felt like I would be outclassed there. I would be able to rub elbows with people from 210 years ago! It makes me feel small.</p>
 <p>Will I upload? I think so. I think when everything is finished out here and I can comfortably leave my position and say that I did a good job, I&rsquo;ll head back planet-side, go on a week-long bender, and then go to an upload clinic when I&rsquo;m still hung over. I&rsquo;ve done a lot out here. I&rsquo;ve given decades of my life to the System, and I think it would be a fine place to retire.</p>
-<p>There is one other thing, and I hesitate to mention it because I&rsquo;m not sure if it would be uncouth, but doubtless you recognize my name. My great-great-something aunt was Michelle Hadje, who was formative to the creation of the System itself, was one of the earliest uploads, one of what I think are called the &lsquo;founders&rsquo;. I know that I could just message her. I <em>want</em> to just message her! Something keeps me from doing so, though. I feel weird about it, or intimidated, rather in the same way that I feel intimidated about uploading. She&rsquo;s family, but so distant as to be a total stranger; she&rsquo;s more than two hundred years old; she&rsquo;s been essentially silent from phys-side for most of that time, so I don&rsquo;t even know if she&rsquo;s still alive. Some day I&rsquo;ll work up the courage to talk to her, but I&rsquo;m not sure if that will be before or after I upload.</p>
+<p>There is one other thing, and I hesitate to mention it because I&rsquo;m not sure if it would be uncouth, but doubtless you recognize my name. My great-great-something aunt was Michelle Hadje, who was formative to the creation of the System itself, was one of the earliest uploads, one of what I think are called the &lsquo;founders&rsquo;. I want to meet her.</p>
+<p>I know that I could just message her. I <em>want</em> to just message her! Something keeps me from doing so, though. I feel weird about it, or intimidated, rather in the same way that I feel intimidated about uploading. She&rsquo;s family, but so distant as to be a total stranger; she&rsquo;s more than two hundred years old; she&rsquo;s been essentially silent from phys-side for most of that time as far as I can tell, so I don&rsquo;t even know if she&rsquo;s still alive. Some day I&rsquo;ll work up the courage to talk to her, but I&rsquo;m not sure if that will be before or after I upload.</p>
 <blockquote>
 <p>What led you to pursue your position as launch director rather than remaining in your previous position?</p>
 </blockquote>
@@ -46,9 +47,9 @@
 <blockquote>
 <p>Please provide a biography of yourself to whatever level of detail you feel comfortable.</p>
 </blockquote>
-<p>I was born Douglas Fredrick Hadje-Simon on April 9th, 2278 in Saskatoon to the last in a long line of Uranium miners. I got my implants along with the rest of my class at age five, and quickly took to the &lsquo;net. I spent as much time as I could in there, as did (and still do) most folks. I don&rsquo;t know when you uploaded, but Earth is not a pleasant place anymore, so the net is where one goes for literally anything but living in a shithole on a giant rock that is also a shithole, if you&rsquo;ll forgive the language.</p>
+<p>I was born Douglas Fredrick Hadje-Simon on April 9th, 2278 in Saskatoon to the last in a long line of Uranium miners. I got my implants along with the rest of my class at age five, and quickly took to the &lsquo;net. I spent as much time as I could in there, as did (and still do) most folks. I don&rsquo;t know when you uploaded, but most of Earth is not a pleasant place anymore, so the net is where one goes for literally anything but living in a shithole on a giant rock that is also a shithole, if you&rsquo;ll forgive the language.</p>
 <p>Like I said, I took a job working on Ansible stuff as soon as I could. I&rsquo;ll admit that this was a selfish act. I was hoping that I would eventually wind up station-side to get away from the mess down there. I don&rsquo;t regret it. I don&rsquo;t miss my family. I don&rsquo;t miss my friends. I don&rsquo;t miss home. This is home now, as much as anything. I will do my best to either upload or die up here rather than go back. I&rsquo;ll work myself to the bone if I have to.</p>
-<p>I moved up through the ranks quickly enough and, first chance I got, I headed up with a few other techs on a ship headed to some mining site on the Moon. I spent probably five minutes on the Moon before the other techs and I headed out to the station. I started out as a junior Ansible tech and made my way up to lead before making it to launch director. You know the rest.</p>
+<p>I moved up through the ranks quickly enough and, first chance I got, I headed up with a few other techs on a ship headed to some mining site on the Moon. I spent probably five minutes on the Moon before the other techs and I headed out to the station. I started out as a senior station-side Ansible tech and made my way up to lead before making it to launch director. You know the rest.</p>
 <blockquote>
 <p>Please provide a physical description of yourself to whatever level of detail you feel comfortable.</p>
 </blockquote>
@@ -57,13 +58,13 @@
 <p>Do you have any hobbies?</p>
 </blockquote>
 <p>I still tool around on the &lsquo;net (though since there&rsquo;s more than a second&rsquo;s latency to Earth one way, it&rsquo;s mostly entertainment sims rather than chat), and for the mandatory exercise, I like running well enough. We&rsquo;re not allowed to cook up here, but I remember being fond of that back planet-side.</p>
-<p>This is super embarrassing, and just between you and me. I&rsquo;d prefer you not tell anyone about this, and please, please don&rsquo;t tell Ms. Hadje. One of my hobbies is picking up any EVA task I can get just so I can go touch the System itself. Hardly anyone&rsquo;s seen it, but it&rsquo;s beautiful. It&rsquo;s coated in an inch or two of diamond, and the inside is a glittery mix of gold on black that seems to go on forever.</p>
+<p>This is super embarrassing, and just between you and me. I&rsquo;d prefer you not tell anyone about this, and please, please don&rsquo;t tell Ms. Hadje. One of my hobbies is picking up any EVA task I can get just so I can go touch the System itself. Hardly anyone&rsquo;s seen it, but it&rsquo;s beautiful. It&rsquo;s coated in an inch or two of manufactured diamond, and the inside is a glittery mix of gold on black that seems to go on forever.</p>
 <p>On these EVAs, I&rsquo;ll go touch the System and imagine that I can feel family in there.</p>
 <p>I don&rsquo;t know if it counts as a hobby, but it&rsquo;s important to me, and it isn&rsquo;t work.</p>
 <blockquote>
 <p>How do you feel about what you know of the founding of the System?</p>
 </blockquote>
-<p>I don&rsquo;t know what I feel. You have to understand that it&rsquo;s been existence for more than four times the number of years that I&rsquo;ve been alive. I know some of the big highlights, I suppose. It was invented some time in the 2110s, and seceded in 2125. It used to be super expensive to get to, then in the 2170s when things started getting really bad, several governments started offering incentives to upload. It turned into a weird combination of a brain drain and a dumping ground for the poor. There were a few periods where one government or another would outlaw uploading, but it would never last. It was this huge allure to us, like some sort of perfect utopia. Some folks hated it. Some still do. There were even sabotage attempts on the launch.</p>
+<p>I don&rsquo;t know what I feel. You have to understand that it&rsquo;s been existence for more than four times as long as I&rsquo;ve been alive. I know some of the big highlights, I suppose. It was invented some time in the 2110s, and seceded in 2125. It used to be super expensive to get to, then in the 2170s when things started getting really bad, several governments started offering incentives to upload. It turned into a weird combination of a brain drain and a dumping ground for the poor. There were a few periods where one government or another would outlaw uploading, but it would never last. It was this huge allure to us, like some sort of perfect utopia. Some folks hated it. Some still do. There were even sabotage attempts on the launch.</p>
 <p>I don&rsquo;t know, though. It&rsquo;s almost getting to mythical status out here, so maybe your work is coming at the right time.</p>
 <blockquote>
 <p>If you were suddenly removed from your position as director, what would you choose to do as a career in its stead?</p>
@@ -72,7 +73,7 @@
 <blockquote>
 <p>If you were suddenly removed from your location in the extrasystem L<sub>5</sub> station and returned to Earth, how would you feel and what would you expect?</p>
 </blockquote>
-<p>See above. I&rsquo;d rather die than leave the system.</p>
+<p>See above. I&rsquo;d rather die than leave the station.</p>
 <blockquote>
 <p>If the System shut down and all personalities irrevocably lost, how would you feel?</p>
 </blockquote>
@@ -84,7 +85,7 @@
 <blockquote>
 <p>If everyone but you disappeared, what would you do?</p>
 </blockquote>
-<p>Um&hellip;I don&rsquo;t know! Much of the uploading rig here is automated, though I know there are some buttons and knobs that need doing. I&rsquo;d probably spend every waking moment trying to automate it the rest of the way so that I could upload. If you mean the System too, well, see above.</p>
+<p>Um&hellip;I don&rsquo;t know! Much of the uploading rig here is automated, though I know there are some buttons that need pressing and knobs that need twiddling. I&rsquo;d probably spend every waking moment trying to automate it the rest of the way so that I could upload. If you mean the System too, well, see above.</p>
 <blockquote>
 <p>How do you feel about being alone for extended periods of time?</p>
 </blockquote>
@@ -97,7 +98,7 @@
 <p>How long wilt Thou forget me, O Lord? Forever? How long wilt Thou hide Thy face from me?</p>
 </blockquote>
 <p>I have to say, I started talking with de, one of the launch commission members, and we agreed that your questions grew exponentially weird starting about here. I originally thought I&rsquo;d answer each in some snarky way, but the more I thought about them, the more I realized what you&rsquo;re going for. In that vein, I&rsquo;ll try to answer each as best I can.</p>
-<p>There are a good number of people who think that God/god(s) forgot about Earth. There are always doom-sayers and end-of-the-world-ites, but they have seen a huge uptick in my life alone, and I think this last century has been defined by coming to terms with how fucked up everything is. And it&rsquo;s not that we don&rsquo;t blame ourselves. Many of us do! But many of those same people tack it on God, too. &ldquo;God is disappointed with us and that&rsquo;s why everything&rsquo;s terrible&rdquo; or whatever.</p>
+<p>There are a good number of people who think that God/god(s) forgot about Earth. There have always been doom-sayers and end-of-the-world-ites, but they have seen a huge uptick in my life alone, and I think this last century has been defined by coming to terms with how fucked up everything is. And it&rsquo;s not that we don&rsquo;t blame ourselves. Many of us do! But many of those same people tack it on God, too. &ldquo;God is disappointed with us and that&rsquo;s why everything&rsquo;s terrible&rdquo; or whatever.</p>
 <p>Me? I&rsquo;m not so sure. I was raised thinking much of that, but I also feel like I left those feelings in the shuttle station back planet-side. I don&rsquo;t think about God much anymore. Maybe that&rsquo;s part of the problem: when we forget about God, we get complacent and then get into trouble, and suddenly he&rsquo;s much more relevant again. Who knows. Life up here is easy. I work, I get tired, I rest, I eat well, I get to do the thing I love most of all. Did I forget God back on Earth? Did I leave him there when I came here? Is there room for God in space? Do you have God in the System, and is that God the same one we talk about phys-side?</p>
 <p>Maybe I can&rsquo;t answer the question without asking a bunch more because God and I forgot each other.</p>
 <blockquote>
@@ -118,7 +119,8 @@
 <p>I recognize this! We read it in class. I know that the next words are &ldquo;twice that and more&rdquo;, but I don&rsquo;t think that&rsquo;s quite what you&rsquo;re getting at.</p>
 <p>I look back a hundred years and see illness and failure, and I look at today and see twice that and more <em>below</em>, but up above, as it were, I see only the clean purity of space and the steady brightness of stars. If I literally look up, beyond the walls and hull, there is the System, and while I probably hold overly optimistic ideas of what goes on inside, I don&rsquo;t think you have illness and failure to nearly the same extent as we do phys-side. I doubt it&rsquo;s a utopia, but I would be hard pressed to imagine it as any worse than outside.</p>
 <blockquote>
-<p>Oh, but to whom do I speak these words? To whom do I plead my case?</p>
+<p>Oh, but to whom do I speak these words?<br />
+To whom do I plead my case?</p>
 </blockquote>
 <p>I am writing this to you, but if I have to plead my case to anyone, it&rsquo;s to myself. I have to make my case to myself that I am worth enough to upload, that I can bring <em>something</em> to the System, that I would be welcomed there. I&rsquo;m a very harsh judge, though, and it&rsquo;s taking a lot of work to convince myself of that.</p>
 <blockquote>
@@ -126,9 +128,11 @@
 </blockquote>
 <p>Close. So close. I call out to myself from within myself. I call out to the system through a few inches of diamondoid coating and the fabric of my EVA suit.</p>
 <blockquote>
-<p>What right have I? No ranks of angels will answer to dreamers, No unknowable spaces echo my words.</p>
+<p>What right have I?<br />
+No ranks of angels will answer to dreamers,<br />
+No unknowable spaces echo my words.</p>
 </blockquote>
-<p>This is the crux of the problem, isn&rsquo;t it? I am convinced, on some level, that I don&rsquo;t have the right to want this thing. Immortality is for the gods, and that&rsquo;s what you seem like to me. You seem like gods, and here I am, the mortal working at sweeping the floor of your altar. The candles are out, the celebrants are gone, no ranks of angles will answer to a dreamer like me, and as always, sound does not travel in space.</p>
+<p>This is the crux of the problem, isn&rsquo;t it? I am convinced, on some level, that I don&rsquo;t have the right to want this thing. Immortality is for the gods, and that&rsquo;s what you seem like to me. You seem like gods, and here I am, the mortal sweeping the floor of your altar. The candles are out, the celebrants are gone, no ranks of angles will answer to a dreamer like me, and as always, sound does not travel in space.</p>
 <blockquote>
 <p>Before whom do I kneel, contrite?</p>
 </blockquote>
@@ -147,7 +151,7 @@
 <p>Please answer, May Then My Name. I wait because I have to know that there is something beyond this. I went into this questionnaire with an open mind, and now I&rsquo;m having a hard time continuing because I just want to curl up in my bed and cry because these last questions have stripped me of any pretense that I had about my desires and what&rsquo;s keeping me from them. I don&rsquo;t recognize where you got them from, but they have me truly unsettled. They sound almost like your name, and if you are a part of these questions, then please answer.</p>
             </article>
             <footer>
-                <p>Page generated on 2021-09-25</p>
+                <p>Page generated on 2021-10-13</p>
             </footer>
         </main>
         <script type="text/javascript">
diff --git a/writing/post-self/toledot/launch/sys/Ioan/001.html b/writing/post-self/toledot/launch/sys/Ioan/001.html
index 1841a0ccc..b3e38ebd9 100644
--- a/writing/post-self/toledot/launch/sys/Ioan/001.html
+++ b/writing/post-self/toledot/launch/sys/Ioan/001.html
@@ -14,20 +14,20 @@
             <article class="content">
                 <h1 id="ioan-balan-2325">Ioan Bălan &mdash; 2325</h1>
 <p>The first thing that Ioan did when ey arrived before that low-slung house, there among countless acres of rolling buffalo grass, was laugh.</p>
-<p>The prairie was much as ey remembered. Grass tickled at eir lower calves even through the socks and slacks, clouds threatened rain as they always did, and wind tugged at eir hair in all the very same ways as it first had however many years ago now &mdash; was it really twenty? And yet the house! Banners were hung about in deepest black, streamers running from pole to pole in a welcoming path, guiding visitors up to the house. This was lit about with flames of all sizes. Tea-lights scattered among the dandelions, elaborate candelabras set upon tables, braziers set upon tripods, wall sconces set beneath the cantilevered roof. A glow painting the grass beside the house suggested a bonfire out back.</p>
+<p>The prairie was as ey remembered. Grass tickled at eir lower calves even through the socks and slacks; clouds threatened rain as they always did; wind tugged at eir hair in all the very same ways as it first had however many years ago now &mdash; was it really twenty? And yet the house! Banners were hung about in deepest black, streamers running from pole to pole in a welcoming path, guiding visitors up to the house. This was lit about with flames of all sizes: tea-lights scattered among the dandelions, elaborate candelabras set upon tables, braziers set upon tripods, wall sconces set beneath the cantilevered roof. A glow painting the grass beside the house suggested a bonfire out back.</p>
 <p>And there, the largest banner of them all draped from that roof shouted in stately capitals: &ldquo;HAPPY DEATH DAY&rdquo;.</p>
-<p>Still shaking eir head, ey walked up along the streamer-lined path up toward the house. When the threshold was crossed, a soft chime sounded from within and outside the house.</p>
-<p>Ioan need not have looked hard for Dear, for the fox was already sprinting around the corner of the house. Fox<em>es</em>, ey realized, for as it ran, it forked off copies of itself of all sorts: that iridescent fox ey remembered, yes, but also scampering fennecs no larger than a double-handful, a few grinning copies of the Michelle Hadje of its past, and even a shoulder-high lumbering beast with eyes that crackled with a light of their own.</p>
+<p>Still shaking eir head, ey walked up along the streamer-lined path up toward the house. When the threshold was crossed, a chime sounded from within and outside the house.</p>
+<p>Ioan need not have looked hard for Dear, for the fox was already sprinting around the corner of the house. Fox<em>es</em>, ey realized, for as it ran, it forked off copies of itself of all sorts: that iridescent fennec ey remembered, yes, but also scampering foxes no larger than a double-handful, a few grinning copies of the Michelle Hadje of its past, and even a shoulder-high lumbering beast with eyes that crackled with a light of their own.</p>
 <p>Dear &mdash; the real Dear &mdash; was easy to pick out, for it was dressed in mourners garb. A black suit, almost-but-not-quite masculine, with its eyes hidden by a gauzy black, almost-but-not-quite feminine veil.</p>
 <p>One by one, the various forks quit, and Dear, Also, The Tree That Was Felled skidded to an unceremonious stop in front of the historian.</p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;Ioan! Mx Ioan Bălan! It has been too long! I have missed you.&rdquo;</em> The fox held out a paw.</p>
 <p>Ioan bypassed this and went straight for the hug. &ldquo;Dear, this is patently ridiculous.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>The laughter against eir ear was musical as the hug was returned. <em>&ldquo;I hold no patent on the ridiculous. It is precisely as ridiculous as it needs to be. Come! Come around back. You are early, and that is perfectly fine, but folks will want to say hi.&rdquo;</em></p>
-<p>Following after the fox and laughing at the way the occasional non-anthropomorphized fennec would blip into being, scamper into the grass with a (frankly rather horrifying) screech, and disappear, Ioan chatted with Dear. </p>
+<p>Following after the fox and laughing at the way the occasional non-anthropomorphized fennec would blip into being, scamper into the grass with a (frankly rather horrifying) screech, and then disappear, Ioan tried to chat with Dear. </p>
 <p>The fox was short on speech after the greeting, eventually hushing em. <em>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll all talk together.&rdquo;</em></p>
 <p>&ldquo;Ioan! Goodness!&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Ey smiled. &ldquo;Codrin, you&rsquo;re looking well.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>What similarities the two had borne early on had since started to blur. Codrin had started out, as a matter of absent-mindedness, an identical copy of Ioan. While Dear could fork out all the unexpected shapes it wanted, Ioan had never mastered the art. Time changes much, however, and eir up-tree fork had deviated in style from Ioan&rsquo;s stolid adherence to form. Codrin&rsquo;s hair had long-since grown past Ioan&rsquo;s tousled look, and the curls ey hated so much adopted as eir own. Eir face, too, had changed, adopting a femininity that suited eir features well. The warm-colored sarong and tunic ey had last seen em in, however, had been replaced with clothes as funereal as Dear&rsquo;s.</p>
+<p>What similarities the two had borne early on had since started to blur. Codrin had started out, as a matter of absent-mindedness, an identical copy of Ioan. While Dear could fork out all the unexpected shapes it wanted, Ioan had never mastered the art. Time changes much, however, and eir up-tree fork had deviated in style from Ioan&rsquo;s stolid adherence to form. Codrin&rsquo;s hair had long-since grown past Ioan&rsquo;s tousled look, and the curls ey hated so much adopted as an integral part of em. Eir face, too, had changed, adopting a femininity that suited eir features well. The warm-colored sarong and tunic ey had last seen em in, however, had been replaced with clothes as funereal as Dear&rsquo;s.</p>
 <p>Matching, Ioan realized. They were a triad now, Codrin, Dear, and Dear&rsquo;s partner, and ey supposed there was no reason that the three of them shouldn&rsquo;t match on their so-called death day.</p>
 <p>There were hugs all around, and Ioan hid eir secret smile at the uncanny act of hugging one&rsquo;s own fork, however far they had diverged.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;How are you three? Excited?&rdquo;</p>
@@ -35,32 +35,33 @@
 <p>The fox looked quite proud of itself. <em>&ldquo;Guilty.&rdquo;</em></p>
 <p>Ioan looked to Codrin, who shrugged. &ldquo;I play the moderate, as always. I&rsquo;m nervous and excited in equal parts. The nervousness comes from the irreversibility, and the excitement from the inevitability.&rdquo;</p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;Ey has a way with words, as always. I have been unable to be nervous, even about the irreversibility.&rdquo;</em></p>
-<p>&ldquo;A new project, then?&rdquo; Ioan hazarded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A new project, then?&rdquo; Ioan guessed.</p>
 <p>It smiled wryly. <em>&ldquo;You know me well. Yes, I cannot seem to think of anything else. Fewer things in life than we imagine are truly irreversible. Time is the one that everyone thinks of, and whenever they name some other process in life that seems irreversible, it really boils down to the ways in which it is bound by time. Breathing? Digestion? Aging? Death? All time-bound aspects that only bear the semblance of irreversibility.</em></p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;And yet we have short-circuited so much of that here. We have found ways to take time and set aside some of the constraints that it puts on those processes. Breathing, digestion, and aging are all optional, and death, as we must know, is something that must be chosen. Even then, a true death remains elusive. Perhaps we quit and merge down tree, but is that death? Perhaps all of our instances quit, but even this lacks some of the savor that a true death contains.&rdquo;</em></p>
 <p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re declaiming again.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Dear stuck its tongue out at its partner, a gesture that bordered on cute on that vulpine face. Its partner laughed.</p>
+<p>Dear stuck its tongue out at its partner, a gesture that bordered on cute on that vulpine face.</p>
+<p>Its partner laughed. &ldquo;It took you a surprisingly short time.&rdquo;</p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;It has already been established that I am excited. Permit me this!&rdquo;</em> After a laughing pause, it continued. <em>&ldquo;Now, however, we have been permitted the wonder and curiosity that drives so many images of the afterlife. Now, we get as close as ever to</em> knowing <em>that an afterlife exist, and ghosts will speak to us from beyond the heavens.&rdquo;</em></p>
 <p>&ldquo;For a time,&rdquo; Codrin said.</p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;For a time, and even that carries with it the irreversibility of time.&rdquo;</em></p>
 <p>The ideas touched on some subconscious musing that Ioan had carried with emself ever since the choice to remain had been made, and the group settled into a silence broken only by the crackling of logs on the bonfire. Ey didn&rsquo;t know what the others were thinking, there in the flickering light, but for em, the weight of that decision settled at last on em, and eir thoughts scattered before the implications.</p>
-<p>Ey had made eir own irreversible choice, and while ey knew that ey could technically reverse it up until that final point of no return this evening, ey knew that ey would not.</p>
+<p>Ey had made eir own irreversible choice, and while ey knew that ey could technically reverse it up until that final point of no return, later this evening, ey knew that ey would not.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Ioan?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Ey realized that the triad were staring at them. Ey shook eir head to dispel the rumination. &ldquo;Sorry. Yes?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Where is May Then My Name?&rdquo; Dear&rsquo;s partner asked.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Here.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Four heads turned to the watch the skunk, similar to Dear in so many ways but for species, padded around the corner. She smiled apologetically and bowed. &ldquo;Sorry I am late.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Dear brightened and bounced up to the skunk, part of its own clade, and once her bow completed, hugged her. <em>&ldquo;My dear, a pleasure as always.&rdquo;</em></p>
+<p>Dear brightened and bounced up to the skunk, part of its own clade, and once she stood straight again, hugged her. <em>&ldquo;My dear, a pleasure as always.&rdquo;</em></p>
 <p>Ioan waited for Dear to release May Then My Name Die With Me before getting eir own hug. After, she looped her arm through eirs, letting em play the escort and settling into a familiar pattern of constant touch.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Glad you could make it,&rdquo; Dear&rsquo;s partner said.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Of course! Would not miss it for the world. Besides, I am one of the honored guests, right?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course! I would not miss it for the world. Besides, I am one of the honored guests, right?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Codrin smiled. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve only invited honored guests.&rdquo;</p>
 <p><em>&ldquo;Of course! And here come more.&rdquo;</em></p>
-<p>For the next hour, the chime of arrival was nearly constant as guests upon guests arrived. Much of the Ode Clade showed, though Ioan noted that some of the more conservative members were absent, grudges remaining even to this day. Michelle Hadje herself, the root instance, was notably absent, and a tug of still-unprocessed emotions pulled at the insides of eir chest.</p>
-<p>Ioan had only met her once before, shortly before this whole plan had been set into motion. She was unfailingly kind, though if madness rode the whole of the Ode Clade, it seemed to affect her deeper than the rest, and she was often taken by long silences, sometimes in the middle of sentences. During these, she lost coherence, her form rippling and changing, waves of skunk rolling down her form, followed by equally tumultuous waves of her usual human self. These spells would last anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes, and even after they were quelled and the conversation resumed, afterimages of mephitidine muzzle and ears would ghost suddenly into place and just as quickly disappear.</p>
+<p>For the next hour, the chime of arrival was near constant as guests upon guests arrived. Much of the Ode Clade showed, though Ioan noted that some of the more conservative members were absent, grudges remaining even to this day. Michelle Hadje herself, the root instance, was notably absent, and a tug of still-unprocessed emotions pulled at the insides of eir chest.</p>
+<p>Ioan had only met her once before, shortly before this whole plan had been set in motion. She was unfailingly kind, though if madness rode the whole of her clade, it seemed to affect her deeper than the rest, and she was often taken by long silences, sometimes in the middle of sentences. During these, she lost coherence, her form rippling and changing, waves of skunk rolling down her form, followed by equally tumultuous waves of her human self. These spells would last anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes, and even after they were quelled and the conversation resumed, afterimages of mephitidine muzzle and ears would ghost suddenly into place and just as quickly disappear.</p>
 <p>After that visit, Ioan had asked Dear about them. Its features darkened and it had averted its gaze. <em>&ldquo;We all have our ways of dealing with loss. She could seek change if she wanted, but&hellip;it is complicated.&rdquo;</em></p>
 <p>It was rare for the fox to leave a thought unfinished, but Ioan could not think of a way to ask it to continue.</p>
-<p>While every guest was noteworthy in their own way, a few names stood out to em. Dear&rsquo;s sibling instance, Serene; Sustained And Sustaining, arrived, a mad grin on her face as she ran directly at Dear and tackled it, the two foxes wrestling briefly on the ground before standing up and dusting themselves off again, both laughing.</p>
+<p>While every guest was noteworthy in their own way, a few names stood out to em. Dear&rsquo;s sibling instance, Serene; Sustained And Sustaining, arrived, a deranged grin on her face as she ran directly at Dear and tackled it, the two foxes wrestling briefly on the ground before standing up and dusting themselves off again, both laughing.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I cannot believe you are going to destroy this place, you asshole. I spent weeks on the grass alone!&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Dear grinned lopsidedly. <em>&ldquo;It is not yours anymore, however, and I am a sucker for grand gestures.&rdquo;</em></p>
 <p>&ldquo;Some gesture!&rdquo;</p>
@@ -69,22 +70,22 @@
 <p>Ioan was surprised by a guest who arrived late in the evening when the champagne and wine were already flowing. Simien Fang, the head of an institute that both Dear and Ioan had worked for at times in the past, made his appearance in classic understated style. He was dressed in all black, but only when viewed head on. He had apparently made an agreement with Dear to allow the occupants of the sim&rsquo;s vision to be modified such that when viewed out of the corner of the eye, his outfit flashed in a whirlwind of phosphene colors. Not only that, but his normally calm features distorted into a devilish grin, no matter the expression seen directly.</p>
 <p>The party rolled on inevitably.</p>
 <p>A sudden peal of thunder, louder than any Ioan had ever heard, brought silence in its wake.</p>
-<p><em>&ldquo;It is time! It is time! Please gather around the fire!&rdquo;</em> Excitement filled Dear&rsquo;s voice, though Ioan thought ey could now detect a hint of nervousness that had not been there before.</p>
-<p>The fox forked off several copies, all wide-eyed and feral-grinned, who helped to herd the hundred-and-change guests into a loose ring around the bonfire before quitting.</p>
+<p><em>&ldquo;It is time! It is time! Please gather around the fire!&rdquo;</em> Excitement filled Dear&rsquo;s voice, though Ioan thought ey could now detect a hint of nervousness that had not been there before. <em>&ldquo;There is no time for speeches, there is no time for goodbyes! It is time!&rdquo;</em></p>
+<p>The fox forked off several copies, all wide-eyed and feral-grinned, who helped to herd the hundred-and-change guests into a loose ring around the bonfire with shoves and snapping teeth before quitting.</p>
 <p>Ioan and May Then My Name took up places about a third of the way around the fire from Dear and its partners, the better to see without flames in the way.</p>
 <p>The triad stepped forward, and the circle closed behind them. Each of them forked in turn, the forks bowed, and disappeared.</p>
 <p>The weight of inevitability began to crest as midnight reared its head.</p>
-<p>No speech was forthcoming, but the three within the circle began to sing.</p>
+<p>The three within the circle began to sing.</p>
 <blockquote>
 <p>Should old acquaintance be forgot<br />
 and never brought to mind?</p>
 </blockquote>
-<p>Something about their posture forbid everyone else from joining in just yet. Their voices were raw, earnest.</p>
+<p>Something about their posture forbid everyone else from joining in just yet. Their voices were raw, earnest all the same, carrying above the roar and crackle of the fire.</p>
 <blockquote>
 <p>Should old acquaintance be forgot<br />
 and auld lang syne?</p>
 </blockquote>
-<p>Ioan realized that ey was crying, that many in the circle were crying, and when Dear raised its arms to the sky, all the gathered attendees around the fire began to sing.</p>
+<p>Ioan realized that ey was crying, that May Then My Name was crying, that many in the circle were crying, and when Dear raised its arms to the sky, all the gathered attendees around the fire began to sing as one.</p>
 <blockquote>
 <p>For auld lang syne, my dear,<br />
 for auld lang syne.<br />
@@ -92,24 +93,24 @@ We&rsquo;ll take a cup of kindness yet,<br />
 For auld lang&ndash;</p>
 </blockquote>
 <p>Before the final note of the song could be sung, Dear gave a jaunty salute, bowed with a flourish, and quit along with its partner and Codrin Bălan.</p>
-<p>With a deafening silence, the landscape around them crumbled into voxels, and those voxels joined together by powers of two, and with a soft chime, all the members of the party were shunted off to wherever they called home.</p>
+<p>With a deafening silence, the landscape around them immediately crumbled into voxels, and those voxels joined together by powers of two, and with a soft chime, a descending minor triad, all the members of the party were shunted off to wherever they called home.</p>
 <p>Ioan stumbled and fell to eir knees on the parquet of eir entryway, May Then My Name standing, defiant against the change in scenery, in air and light and gravity, beside em.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;What an asshole,&rdquo; she laughed.</p>
-<p>Ioan and the skunk let the intoxication of the night cling to them a while longer while they sat on the balcony of Ioan&rsquo;s house, overlooking that perpetually lilac-scented yard, and talked. They talked of the party, of the modern house on the prairie, of Dear and the contradiction of formal intensity and playfulness that it seemed to embody. The conversation wound down, and then the two sat in silence. It did not seem time yet to snap sobriety into being.</p>
-<p>It had taken Ioan several days to get used to the skunk&rsquo;s affectionate nature. When she first moved in as the intensity of the project began to ramp up, it had taken em by surprise, and ey had needed to have a series of awkward conversations discussing boundaries and intentions.</p>
+<p>Ioan and the skunk let the intoxication of the night cling to them a while longer while they sat on the balcony of Ioan&rsquo;s house, overlooking that perpetually lilac-scented yard, and talked. They talked of the party, of the modern house on the prairie, of Dear and the contradiction of formal intensity and playfulness that it seemed to embody, and then they talked of nothing at all and the two sat in silence. It did not seem time yet to snap sobriety into being.</p>
+<p>It had taken Ioan several days to get used to the skunk&rsquo;s affectionate nature. When she first moved in as the intensity of the project began to ramp up, it had taken em by surprise. Even the act of her moving in was unexpected and new. Ey had needed to have a series of awkward conversations discussing boundaries and intentions.</p>
 <p>Now, as she slouched against eir side on that bench swing and ey settled eir arm around her, ey asked, &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the story behind your fork? Or your stanza?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Mm?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Well, Dear said that it and Serene were forked when Praiseworthy wanted to explore an interest in instances and sims. Is there something like that which led to&hellip;to whatever your down-tree instance is forking?&rdquo; Ey supposed that, were ey sober, ey might have better luck dredging up the lines from the stanza. Something about true names and god.</p>
-<p>May Then My Name shrugged, shoulder shifting against Ioan&rsquo;s side. &ldquo;In the early days, I &mdash; Michelle, that is &mdash; did not have much direction to her forking. Forks were created at need essentially to handle the increased workload.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>May Then My Name shrugged, shoulder shifting against Ioan&rsquo;s side. &ldquo;In the early days, I &mdash; Michelle, that is &mdash; did not have much direction to her forking. Forks were created at need essentially to handle the increased workload. The first ten were created all at once in a burst of activity.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Were the early days busy?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Very busy. We were one of the founders you know, and there were a lot of details that needed to be seen to before this place became what it is today.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Ioan nodded. &ldquo;Dear said that Michelle had campaigned to include sensoria in the system.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, though that word is something of an elision that has become shorthand for experiences rather than thoughts.&rdquo; Her voice was soft, though it still held the careful articulation of one who has realized that they are not sober. &ldquo;We were not beings of pure thought, there were still experiences, but there was no guarantee that they would be shared. It was chaotic, as you might imagine from a set of unique individuals trying to dream the same dream.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;This was back in the early days, you understand, before the System had become a dumping ground for the world&rsquo;s excess population. We were all starry-eyed dreamers, and so were the engineers phys-side. Hard problems remain hard, however, and it kept getting deprioritized. Michelle and the rest of the founders provided arguments for the means by which we have consensual sensoria, as well as additional sensorium tools such as the messages.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Ioan restrained the impulse to bristle at this. The Ode clade was notorious for their fondness for sensorium messages, those sensations and images that barged in on one&rsquo;s senses. Ey found them unnerving. Instead, ey said, &ldquo;Just how much of the early System did your clade influence?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>May Then My Name&rsquo;s laugh was musical. &ldquo;I am sure we have lost count. The first lines of each stanza quickly picked up interests of their own &mdash; they were in much better communication back then &mdash; and each picked up a project of their own, and whenever a new project would come along, they would petition the rest of the clade for the use of a line for a long-running fork. Everything was much more expensive back then, and we would sometimes have to pool our reputation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, though that is something of an elision that has become shorthand for experiences rather than thoughts.&rdquo; Her voice was soft, though it still held the careful articulation of one who has realized that they are not sober. &ldquo;We were not beings of pure thought, there were still experiences, but there was no guarantee that they would be shared. It was chaotic, as you might imagine from a set of unique individuals trying to dream the same dream.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This was back in the early days, you understand, before the System had become a dumping ground for the world&rsquo;s excess population.&rdquo; She smiled, far off. &ldquo;We were all starry-eyed dreamers, you know, and so were the engineers phys-side. Hard problems remain hard, however, and it kept getting deprioritized. Michelle and the rest of the founders provided arguments for the means by which we have consensual sensoria, as well as additional sensorium tools such as the messages.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Ioan relished the long-faded impulse to bristle at this. The Ode clade was notorious for their fondness for sensorium messages, those sensations and images that barged in on one&rsquo;s senses. Ey found them unnerving. Ey said, &ldquo;Just how much of the early System did your clade influence?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>May Then My Name&rsquo;s laugh was quiet and muffled beside em. &ldquo;I am sure we have lost count. The first lines of each stanza quickly picked up interests of their own &mdash; even then they were not in much communication &mdash; and each picked up a project of their own, and whenever a new project would come along, they would have to generate enough reputation to fork again. Everything was much more expensive back then, and we would sometimes have to pool our resources.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;What was your stanza&rsquo;s project?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;We lost the idea that the whole stanza would be working on similar projects after a while, so they are not as tightly connected any more. The first line of mine, though, The Only Time I Know My True Name Is When I Dream &mdash; True Name &mdash; was heavy in the politics of the early System and its relations to phys-side.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We lost the idea that the whole stanza would be working on similar projects after a while, so they are not as tightly connected any more. Early forks were much more likely to share similar interests, if only because the individuation had not set in as strongly. The first line of mine, though, The Only Time I Know My True Name Is When I Dream &mdash; True Name &mdash; was heavy in the politics of the early System and its relations to phys-side.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Ioan blinked, startled. &ldquo;I had no idea. I&rsquo;m guessing that&rsquo;s back when it was a bigger deal?</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Very much so, yes.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I thought there wasn&rsquo;t much political interaction after Secession, though.&rdquo;</p>
@@ -119,15 +120,15 @@ For auld lang&ndash;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;To feel?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;To feel. True Name kept spinning off instances to work on such concrete things, I think she forgot how to feel. Emotions became distant out of habit. Touch became a distraction. I was to become her anchor. We would merge every few months after that, though it has been a long time since the last time. She says that we will merge once this project is finished.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;You haven&rsquo;t diverged too far?&rdquo; Ioan asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;We try not to,&rdquo; the skunk murmured. &ldquo;That is why I am acting as coordinator. It is a familiar role.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She would like us not to,&rdquo; the skunk murmured. &ldquo;That is why I am acting as coordinator. It is a familiar role.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Ioan nodded. &ldquo;Close enough to politics, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Another moment of silence. The academic permitted some of the drunkenness from the evening to drift away, allowing em to think more clearly. May Then My Name relaxed further against eir side, and ey suspected she was not far away from sleep. Tomorrow, the work would begin in earnest, so ey was tempted to let her sleep, but a question nagged at em.</p>
+<p>Another moment of silence. Ey permitted some of the drunkenness from the evening to drift away, allowing thoughts to come more clearly. May Then My Name relaxed further against eir side, and ey suspected she was not far away from sleep. Tomorrow, the work would begin to pick up in earnest, so ey was tempted to let her sleep, but a question nagged at em.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;May?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I like it when you call me that,&rdquo; she mumbled</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I like it when you call me that,&rdquo; she mumbled.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a good name.&rdquo; Ioan smiled. &ldquo;I had a question, though. How much do you remember from back then?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>She sat bolt upright, wrenching at eir shoulder. &ldquo;What did you say? Sorry.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Ey reclaimed eir arm, rubbing at the shoulder. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s okay. How much do you remember from the early days of the System? Before you uploaded or after, I mean.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You, my dear, are a fucking genius.&rdquo; She was on her feet now, pacing back and forth in front of the bench swing. She paused mid-pace to lean down and bump her nose against Ioan&rsquo;s forehead; her form of a kiss. &ldquo;Fucking genius.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You, my dear, are a fucking genius.&rdquo; She was on her feet within a second, pacing back and forth in front of the bench swing. She paused mid-pace to lean down and bump her nose against Ioan&rsquo;s forehead; her form of a kiss. &ldquo;Fucking genius.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Given that she appeared to have sobered up, Ioan allowed emself to do the same. &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; ey asked.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I want to modify the project scope. Can I tell you a secret?&rdquo; She was speaking quickly now.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Yes, of course.&rdquo;</p>
@@ -135,16 +136,16 @@ For auld lang&ndash;</p>
 <p>Ioan frowned. &ldquo;If can I fork for it, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>May Then My Name laughed. &ldquo;You are talking to an Odist, of course you can fucking fork.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Alright, alright. Then what&rsquo;s your secret?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I want to write an early history of the System to parallel the current. They are eerily similar, you know, but it has been two hundred years. We are well past history, and doubtless there are histories already written. Yes, I remember. Of course I do. I remember the secession, I remember uploading, I remember getting lost, I remember everything. The all the great and terrible things that we did. We could write a history, but that is all already there. There are paper trails and journals and everything phys-side already knows about us, but&ndash;&ldquo;</p>
-<p>Ioan&rsquo;s eyes went wide as ey picked up on her idea. &ldquo;You want to write a mythology.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want to write an early history of the System to parallel the current. They are eerily similar, you know, but it has been two hundred years. We are well past history, and doubtless there are histories already written. I remember the secession, I remember uploading, I remember getting lost, I remember everything. Yes, I remember. Of course I do. The all the great and terrible things that we did. We could write a history, but that is all already there. There are paper trails and journals and everything phys-side already knows about us, but&ndash;&ldquo;</p>
+<p>Ioan&rsquo;s eyes went wide as ey picked up on her idea. &ldquo;You want to turn it into a story.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>She clapped and bounced excitedly on her feet. &ldquo;Yes! Yes, a mythology. I know I have mentioned them before, and we had talked about incorporating that aspect with Dear and Codrin. The history is important, and perhaps we can write that too, but now is not the time for only history. Now is the time for&ndash;&ldquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Stories.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>In a decidedly Dear-like move, the skunk forked several times over, crowding the balcony before the bench swing with copies of herself, all of which had the same expression of glee. They quit quickly, and May Then My Name leaned forward to give Ioan a handful more of those nose-dot kisses. &ldquo;You get it!&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I worked with Dear, you nut. Of course I get stories.&rdquo; Ey laughed and reached up to grab her around the waist and haul her back onto the swing beside em.</p>
-<p>How different she was than Dear. Individuation is born in the decades and centuries. Ey would never have thought to be so physical with the fox, but as she laughed and slumped back against eir side, ey realized ey had long since fallen into the habit of physicality, of touch. Of, ey realized, feeling. Just as she&rsquo;d said.</p>
+<p>How different she was than Dear. Individuation is born in the decades and centuries, though. Ey would never have thought to be so physical with the fox, but as she laughed and slumped back against eir side, ey realized ey had long since fallen into the habit of physicality, of touch. Of, ey realized, feeling. Just as she&rsquo;d said.</p>
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-                <p>Page generated on 2021-09-28</p>
+                <p>Page generated on 2021-10-13</p>
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diff --git a/writing/post-self/toledot/secession/phys/Yared/001.html b/writing/post-self/toledot/secession/phys/Yared/001.html
index 5a04235a0..33f55045d 100644
--- a/writing/post-self/toledot/secession/phys/Yared/001.html
+++ b/writing/post-self/toledot/secession/phys/Yared/001.html
@@ -23,7 +23,7 @@
 <p>&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t need it.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>A look of understanding bloomed on her face and her expression shifted from confusion to a cautious smile. &ldquo;No, I suppose you won&rsquo;t. Well, thank you. I&rsquo;ll give it to the library if I don&rsquo;t wind up reading it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Yared nodded and gave a gesture of thanks. It was only after the conversation was over that he felt a hotness in his cheeks. He had been lucky that the woman spoke English so well! She was very white, and while that might not mean anything, he <em>was</em> flying into the Sino-Russian Bloc, and she could just as well not have been a native speaker.</p>
+<p>Yared nodded and gave a gesture of thanks. It was only after the conversation was over that he felt a hotness in his cheeks. He had been lucky that the woman spoke English so well. She was very white, and while that might not mean anything, he <em>was</em> flying into the Sino-Russian Bloc, and she could just as well not have been a native speaker.</p>
 <p>The act of landing, of deplaning and customs, was as dull and rote as he expected it to be, and yet some protective action of his mind had buried that overwhelming anxiety under a blanket of numbness, which had soon spread to encompass all of his feelings and emotions.</p>
 <p>The stop through customs was met with another wide-eyed expression.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;You are the first that I have met,&rdquo; the agent said.</p>
@@ -32,7 +32,7 @@
 <p>Yared nodded.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I think that I will see many more the longer I work here.&rdquo; The agent stamped his passport with an expert twist of the wrist, adding a smear to the ink which added a layer of authenticity. It would be all but impossible to mimic that smear. She handed his passport back with a sly smile and a tap to her temple, &ldquo;I do not think I will go. I am terrified enough of my own head.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Yared could only smile back and move on through the line.</p>
-<p>He was met at baggage claim by a slight man who took him by the hand and led him out into the heat of the afternoon. He was shunted into the air-conditioned back of a black car &mdash; so many memories of years ago beneath that blanket of numbness &mdash; which took him to an unassuming office complex.</p>
+<p>He was met at baggage claim by a slight man who took him by the hand and led him out into the heat of the afternoon. He was shunted into the air-conditioned back of a black car &mdash; so many memories of weeks and months ago beneath that blanket of numbness &mdash; which took him to an unassuming office complex.</p>
 <p>Unassuming from the outside, at least. Inside, ey was met with white tile and calm, efficient staff who swished on the floor with white, paper booties.</p>
 <p>He was directed to a waiting room where a ey was instructed to disrobe and push his arms through the sleeves of a paper gown and provided with his own booties.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;You have fasted?&rdquo;</p>
@@ -128,29 +128,29 @@
 <p>Yared straightened up. &ldquo;Jonas? Really? Nice to meet you as well. Is this&hellip;are you the Council of eight?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>True Name nodded. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s us, yep. Michelle could not be here tonight, so I am here in her stead.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;You meet at a diner?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;We meet all over,&rdquo; Jonas said. &ldquo;There is no headquarters, per se. We just find interesting places and meet there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We meet all over,&rdquo; Jonas said. &ldquo;There is no headquarters, <em>per se.</em> We just find interesting places and meet there.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Wherever&rsquo;s most boring.&rdquo; The nondescript person shrugged.</p>
 <p>A mug of coffee was placed before him and Yared lifted it automatically for a sip. He wasn&rsquo;t sure why this surprised him, but he figured he had a lot to learn.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re the last one,&rdquo; rasped the pile of rags. &ldquo;The last arrival before secession. You didn&rsquo;t want to be the first one after? It&rsquo;s your big deal, right?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;No. I don&rsquo;t know why. I suppose just in case something goes wrong with the launch.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Nothing will go wrong. There is a backup facility, anyway,&rdquo; the weasel said. &ldquo;Debarre, by the way. Nice to meet you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing will go wrong. There is a backup facility, anyway,&rdquo; the ferret-shaped one said. &ldquo;Debarre, by the way. Nice to meet you.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>The rest of the council introduced themselves.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;So, how long until secession takes effect?&rdquo; True Name asked.</p>
 <p>One of the well-dressed women tilted her head, then smiled. &ldquo;Ten seconds.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Yared set his coffee down quickly as the table began a countdown. He looked around and then realized everyone was counting down. Shouting the numbers. Grinning and laughing and clapping.</p>
 <p>By the time they hit four, Yared was counting along with them.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Three!&rdquo; he shouted.</p>
-<p><em>This is what it was all for,</em> he thought. <em>Sitting in a diner, drinking bad coffee, and meeting friends.</em></p>
+<p><em>This is what it was all for,</em> he thought. <em>Sitting in a diner, drinking terrible coffee, and meeting friends.</em></p>
 <p>&ldquo;Two!&rdquo;</p>
 <p><em>I dreamed for so long, and I get here minutes before it all happens at once. This is what it was for.</em></p>
 <p>&ldquo;One!&rdquo;</p>
 <p><em>It was all for these smiling faces and complete and total freedom.</em></p>
 <p>Everyone began cheering at once. The windows lit up with a fireworks display. True Name stopped clapping in order to hug him around the shoulders, and after a moment&rsquo;s hesitation, he returned the gesture.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I think this is why you wanted to be the last one,&rdquo; she murmured in his ear just loud enough for him to hear. &ldquo;You greedy son of a bitch. You just wanted to be the last one to join the party.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is why you wanted to be the last one, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; she murmured in his ear just loud enough for him to hear. &ldquo;You greedy son of a bitch. You just wanted to be the last one to join the party.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>He laughed. &ldquo;You know, I think you may be right.&rdquo;</p>
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-                <p>Page generated on 2021-10-09</p>
+                <p>Page generated on 2021-10-13</p>
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+++ b/writing/post-self/toledot/secession/sys/Michelle/001.html
@@ -21,7 +21,7 @@
 <p>Michelle had long considered this moment, and just as long considered what she might say. She was of two minds. She was of two minds.</p>
 <p>The part of her that desired knowledge, that craved a reason in all things, that part of her felt compelled to give an explanation. It felt the need to rationalize and understand and comprehend, and it craved the knowledge that others also understood.</p>
 <p>That part was Sasha. That had felt inverted to her, at first. Was not Michelle the rational one? She was the one who had maintained her ties to her body. She was the one who remembered all of the <em>things</em>, all of the <em>actions</em> of her past. She was the one who wanted to fork and keep all of those memories.</p>
-<p>But instead it was Sasha who felt incomplete, unwhole, when her reasons were unspoken. Eventually her gestalt came to the awareness that this was because Sasha <em>was</em> the one who felt, just as Michelle was the one who remembered, and thus she was also the part that desired compassion above all things. She wanted to explain herself so that others would not be left hurt. She was the one who decided, in the end, not to fork. Those memories that mattered &mdash; really, truly mattered &mdash; all of her instances already shared.</p>
+<p>But instead it was Sasha who felt incomplete, unwhole, when her reasons were unspoken. Eventually her gestalt came to the awareness that this was because Sasha <em>was</em> the one who felt, just as Michelle was the one who remembered, and thus she was also the part that desired compassion above all things. She wanted to explain herself so that others would not be left hurt. She was the one who decided, in the end, not to fork, to fix, to repair. Those memories that mattered &mdash; really, truly mattered &mdash; all of her instances already shared.</p>
 <p>Michelle did not want to tell anyone.</p>
 <p>She was of two minds/she was of two minds.</p>
 <p>So she edited and rewrote and pared her message down. Thousands of words. Hundreds of words. Ninety-nine words. Ten words. Two commands. A duality like her.</p>
@@ -41,32 +41,33 @@
 <p>And so on the allotted day and at the allotted time and in the allotted place, they came. They appeared one by one in that field of grass, that field of dandelions. They came and they stood and they waited. Some of them chatted amiably. Some of them were crying, and she knew which was which because she also felt amiable/she also was crying.</p>
 <p>They came to her/they came to her.</p>
 <p>They came alone.</p>
-<p>One hundred and one of her stood in that meadow. Life Breeds Life But Death Must Now Be Chosen was gone, but there were two of her/there were two of her, and the number was still as it should be.</p>
+<p>One hundred and one of her stood in that meadow. Qoheleth was gone, but there were two of her/there were two of her, and the number was still as it should be.</p>
 <p>No, not as it should be. Not as it ought to be. There ought to be only one hundred of her there without Qoheleth, but she was of two minds/she was of two minds.</p>
 <p>She smiled to them/she smiled to them, and that was enough to bring them to silence. Those who had felt their amicability frowned now, picking up on the sudden anxiety of the meadow, of that green grass yellowed by dandelions.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I am of two minds,&rdquo; she said/she said. Waves of Sasha/waves of Michelle rippled across her form, two identities washed through her mind, and she quelled the urge to vomit. &ldquo;We are of two minds. We do not want to do this, and there is nothing more in life that we desire than to do this. There is too much in me. There is too much <em>of</em> me.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>There were more crying eyes in the crowd now, and she was crying/she was crying.</p>
 <p>Her voice wavered, but she asked all the same. &ldquo;Please fork. Please fork and merge down-tree.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>In less than five seconds, the number of copies of her had doubled, and some inner part of her/some inner part of her smiled, sensing now that doubling that she felt as a core part of her being expressed in all those versions of herself that had grown these last nearly two centuries.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Since then &mdash; &lsquo;tis Centuries &mdash; and yet Feels shorter than the Day&ndash;&rdquo; she murmured, words borne of a thought/of a memory. Many of the clade joined. &ldquo;I first surmised the Horses&rsquo; Heads Were toward Eternity &mdash;&ldquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Since then &mdash; &lsquo;tis Centuries &mdash; and yet Feels shorter than the Day&ndash;&rdquo; she thought/she murmured, words borne of a thought/of a memory. Many of the clade joined. &ldquo;I first surmised the Horses&rsquo; Heads Were toward Eternity &mdash;&ldquo;</p>
 <p>Many were sitting now, some were pulling at tufts of grass, stalks of dandelions, anything to ground themselves.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I just want&hellip;we just want to experience&hellip;a little more,&rdquo; she choked out. &ldquo;Can you give us that?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The reasons for the forks became clear, now, and over the next hour &mdash; for some had diverged so far that a great amount of effort was required &mdash; they began to merge their outermost instances down-tree, down-tree, down toward the root. Many looked shell-shocked as years and decades and centuries of memories poured into them, and then were passed on down. Many looked as mad as she felt.</p>
-<p>She held up her hand when there the mergers had completed down to the doubled-versions of the nine first lines and one second line (for Qoheleth had been a first, Michelle remembered/Sasha remembered) standing before her.</p>
+<p>The reasons for the forks became clear, now, and over the next hour &mdash; for some had diverged so far that a great amount of effort was required to reconcile conflicts &mdash; they began to merge their outermost instances down-tree, down-tree, down toward the root. Many looked shell-shocked as years and decades and centuries of memories poured into them, and then were passed on down. Many looked as mad as she felt.</p>
+<p>She held up her hand when the mergers had completed down to the doubled-versions of the nine first lines and one second line (for Qoheleth had been a first, Michelle remembered/Sasha remembered) standing before her.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;We have a task for each of you who will remain. One last task.&rdquo; And she walked down the line/she walked down the line, leaning close to whisper into each of their ears, whether they were skunk or human or something new and different, what she wanted them to accomplish, whether it be vague or specific.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; she said.</p>
 <p>Of the twenty before her, ten merged into her, one by one.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she said/she said. &ldquo;Oh.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>She was laughing/she was crying/she was furious/she was in love/she was knowledgeable/she was a being of emotions/she was an ascetic/she was opulent.</p>
+<p>She was.</p>
 <p>She was of two minds.</p>
 <p>She was of ten minds.</p>
 <p>She was of ninety-nine minds.</p>
-<p>She was of a thousand times a thousand minds as more memories than any one individual was ever meant to have poured into her and through her, in through the head, out through the heart, and consumed her. She cherished them one by one by one by one by one&hellip;</p>
+<p>She was of a thousand times a thousand minds as more memories than any one individual was ever meant to have poured into her and through her and consumed her. She cherished them one by one by one by one by one&hellip;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she said, feeling more singular than she had in two hundred years.</p>
 <p>And then she quit.</p>
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index 290b543fa..3121962a8 100644
--- a/writing/post-self/toledot/secession/sys/Michelle/002.html
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@@ -14,7 +14,7 @@
             <article class="content">
                 <h1 id="michelle-hadjesasha-2124">Michelle Hadje/Sasha &mdash; 2124</h1>
 <p>Michelle Hadje mastered the urge to vomit.</p>
-<p>She knew that could change this. Change all of these things from so many dreams that pressed in against. She knew that she could will them away, or perhaps spring for a fork that would simply&hellip;not have them. She had enough reputation, by now, to fork a dozen times over. Some perks came with being on the council, after all.</p>
+<p>She knew that could change this. Change all of these things from so many dreams that pressed in against her. She knew that she could will them away, or perhaps spring for a fork that would simply&hellip;not have them. She had enough reputation, by now, to fork a dozen times over. Some perks came with being on the council, after all.</p>
 <p>But she didn&rsquo;t, and she was not quite sure why.</p>
 <p>At one point, she had entertained the idea that it was out of a need to keep some part of herself tied to the her of eight years ago, the panicked and wild-eyed woman who had scrimped and saved all that she could to get a one-way ticket into the System. Perhaps she needed to keep some tenuous connection to the Michelle left so changed by getting lost that year on year become madness on madness.</p>
 <p>But that wasn&rsquo;t quite it. Perhaps, instead, she felt as though she wasn&rsquo;t worth it. She hadn&rsquo;t been able to save her friends, not in the end, and it was only by dint of luck that she managed to survive the years after that terrible day her mind was wrapped in on itself, squeezed, stretched, knotted, and all her thoughts and all her dreams were mirrored back upon her. Perhaps she deserved these bouts of lingering disconnection, dissociation, derealization, depersonalizeation.</p>
@@ -25,69 +25,69 @@
 <p>Michelle.</p>
 <p>Sasha.</p>
 <p>That last hypothesis encompassed much of the previous two, and would explain why the looming tenth anniversary of the founding of the system seemed to make it all the worse. Ten years since the founding, eleven years since RJ disappeared, giving emself up to the act of creation.</p>
-<p>Ah well. She had lingered long enough outside the coffee shop, so she swallowed down her rising gorge and mastered a few waves of shifting form, skunk fur and human flesh fighting for dominance. The skunk form won today, anthropomorphized to a comforting degree, sitting just shy of cartoonish. It would do. She would be Sasha for the meeting.</p>
+<p>Ah well. She had lingered long enough outside the coffee shop, so she swallowed down her rising gorge and mastered a few waves of shifting form, skunk fur and human flesh fighting for dominance. The human form won today: round of face rather than mephit snout; curly, black hair rather than thick black fur. It would do. She would be Michelle for the meeting.</p>
 <p>The Council of Eight, for all its high status and demand, met in incognito in unassuming, downtempo sims rather than some conference room or grand palace. The eight of them would trickle into the sim over the course of a few hours, set up camp on a hilltop or in a cafe, enjoy the ambiance, and then set up a cone of silence to discuss business. They had been noticed once or twice, but never hounded and certainly not attacked.</p>
 <p>Debarre and user11824 were there already, slouching before their coffees in comfortable silence. Both looked up and waved to her when she entered, so she requested a mocha and joined them around the table.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Hey Mi&ndash;er, Sasha. Hows tricks?&rdquo; Debarre asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hey Sa&ndash;er, Michelle. Hows tricks?&rdquo; Debarre asked.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Tricksy, as usual.&rdquo; She smiled wanly. &ldquo;How about you two?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>user11824 shrugged. His features were nondescript to the point where Sasha doubted that he even needed to work at being incognito. Eyes simply slid over him without pausing. &ldquo;Bored. Boring. Bored.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>user11824 shrugged. His features were nondescript to the point where Michelle doubted that he even needed to work at being incognito. Eyes simply slid over him without pausing. &ldquo;Bored. Boring. Bored.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;How are you bored? There&rsquo;s always too much to do.&rdquo; Laughter came from behind her, followed by a friendly touch to the shoulder. Jonas, on the other hand, was perilously handsome, well past the point of standing out, and friendly with a casual ease that left all feeling envious.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Yeah. Boring shit.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Jonas slid into the seat next to Michelle, coffee in hand. There were a few minutes amiable chatter as the other four octarchs trickled in: two well-dressed women, one well-dressed man, and one slouching form of indeterminate gender (and occasionally species) that looked more like a discarded pile of rags than anything.</p>
-<p>Sasha blinked, and a cone of silence spread around the table. The proprietor raised an eyebrow, but made no other move to acknowledge it.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;So,&rdquo; she began, rubbing her paws over her face. &ldquo;I know we just had a meeting, so I am sorry for stealing you all again, but I have a thing to ask of you all. A question, for sure, but it may morph into a favor, depending on the answer.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Michelle blinked, and a cone of silence spread around the table. The proprietor raised an eyebrow, but made no other move to acknowledge it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So,&rdquo; she began, rubbing her hands over her face. &ldquo;I know we just had a meeting, so I am sorry for stealing you all again, but I have a thing to ask of you all. A question, for sure, but it may morph into a favor, depending on the answer.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Boring one?&rdquo; user11824 asked.</p>
-<p>Sasha forced a tired chuckle and wobbled one of her paws over the table. &ldquo;Maybe. Probably. Most things are boring to you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Michelle forced a tired chuckle and wobbled one of her hands over the table. &ldquo;Maybe. Probably. Most things are boring to you.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>He rolled his eyes. More chuckles around the table.</p>
-<p>Swallowing down another wave of Michelle washing across her body, she continued. &ldquo;I would like to create ten forks to delegate responsibility. Would that be okay?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Swallowing down another wave of Sasha washing across her body, she continued. &ldquo;I would like to create ten forks to delegate responsibility. Would that be okay?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Jonas frowned. &ldquo;That&rsquo;d be pretty expensive.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Would it be worth the expenditure?&rdquo; the pile of rags rasped.</p>
-<p>Sasha quelled the instinct to shrug again, nodding instead. &ldquo;I think it would be. Just temporarily. At least for the next year or so. I will shift my role to a more managerial one, acting as consensus builder for my clade. I would not gain any more say in votes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Michelle quelled the instinct to shrug again, nodding instead. &ldquo;I think it would be. Just temporarily. At least for the next year or so. I will shift my role to a more managerial one, acting as consensus builder for my clade. I would not gain any more say in votes.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Would you take on additional responsibility, too?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I can. I am always happy to do my share of the work, and if that share increases ten-fold while I shift to a consensus point, I will be okay with that.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Debarre gave a lopsided smile. &ldquo;If it&rsquo;s simply about more hands on the ground, I see no problem with it. It&rsquo;s your reputation to spend, and&hellip;&rdquo; He hesitated, smile fading to a more serious expression, and continued. &ldquo;And if it helps you out, then it&rsquo;s probably for the best. I&rsquo;m sorry Sasha, but you look like hell.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>She forced herself to keep tears out of her voice. &ldquo;I feel like hell, if I am honest. I will ensure none of the forks have&hellip;all this.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Nods around the table. The woman from the well-dressed trio spoke up. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m comfortable answering your question with a &lsquo;yes&rsquo;.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>They went around the table, and none of the others said contradicted the first vote. Sasha slouched in relief, letting her control slacken and her form blur for a few moments.</p>
+<p>Nods around the table. A woman from the well-dressed trio spoke up. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m comfortable answering your question with a &lsquo;yes&rsquo;.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They went around the table, and none of the others said contradicted the first vote. Michelle slouched in relief, letting her control slacken and her form blur for a few moments.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Does that answer mean that you have a favor to ask?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>She nodded to Debarre. &ldquo;A two-part favor. I would like some help delegating to my forks, if we have ten things that need doing, and then I would like a week off.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Jonas laughed. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re allowed a vacation, Sasha. Go for it. I&rsquo;m sure we can all find something for your new clade. The Hadje Clade?&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;The Ode Clade.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Debarre stiffened in his seat, frowned. Sasha did her best to maintain her tired mien, keeping her gaze on Jonas.</p>
+<p>Debarre stiffened in his seat, frowned. Michelle did her best to maintain her tired mien, keeping her gaze on Jonas.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;No clue what that means, but hey, Michelle-slash-Sasha of the Ode Clade it is.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Do we applaud? Is this exciting?&rdquo; user11824 asked. He looked honestly befuddled, and Sasha admitted that she could use a life so bound by boredom that excitement could go unnoticed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do we applaud? Is this exciting?&rdquo; user11824 asked. He looked honestly befuddled, and Michelle admitted that she could use a life so bound by boredom that excitement could go unnoticed.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s exciting for me. I get to sleep in.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Laughter around the table.</p>
 <p>The pile of rags shifted, rasping its words. &ldquo;Are we comfortable with this as a general rule? Perhaps we would all benefit from a fork here and there to help us out.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Can we come up with a mechanism for tracking hands on the ground, as you so eloquently put it?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Sasha nodded eagerly to the sharp dressed man. &ldquo;Please. It is not my intention to take more work just so I can do more things my way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Michelle nodded eagerly to the sharp dressed man. &ldquo;Please. It is not my intention to take more work just so I can do more things my way.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;And we&rsquo;ll have to be careful not to overextend our reach. There being only the eight of us kind of limits our capabilities by necessity.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;We can be open about it, set limits for ourselves. Maybe no more than ten per council member.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It might be handy to fork further for personal reasons down the line,&rdquo; Sasha said, carefully avoiding Debarre&rsquo;s gaze. &ldquo;I can think of a hundred things I would like to do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It might be handy to fork further for personal reasons down the line,&rdquo; Michelle said, carefully avoiding Debarre&rsquo;s gaze. &ldquo;I can think of a hundred things I would like to do.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>The weasel&rsquo;s frown deepened.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Sounds fair enough. I figure we&rsquo;ve all got personal lives outside this,&rdquo; one of the women said.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Yeah, boring ones.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re such a drag. Take up fishing or something. Then you can be bored with purpose.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got a stack and a half of trashy novels to plow through.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s some changes I&rsquo;ve been meaning to make. Maybe I can even figure out how to make it like a real demolition process, too. Putting a sledgehammer through drywall? Exquisite. Simply exquisite.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The chatter continued around the table. Sasha focused on her mocha, studiously avoiding Debarre&rsquo;s searching gaze.</p>
-<p>The cone of silence was dropped, and council members left at their own pace until only Sasha, Jonas, and Debarre left.</p>
+<p>The chatter continued around the table. Michelle focused on her mocha, studiously avoiding Debarre&rsquo;s searching gaze.</p>
+<p>The cone of silence was dropped, and council members left at their own pace until only Michelle, Jonas, and Debarre left.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;So, what&rsquo;s the deal with the clade name? And why are you two being so weird around each other?&rdquo; Jonas asked.</p>
 <p>There was a moment&rsquo;s silence, then Debarre murmured, &ldquo;You tell him.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;A friend of mine &mdash; of ours &mdash; wrote this poem, an ode, and I was thinking that I would name the instances after lines from it. A hundred lines, ten stanzas. That gives me ten first lines to start with, and I can go from there.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Jonas shrugged. &ldquo;Well, fair enough. You didn&rsquo;t answer why you two got all weird, though.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Complicated stuff. Both Sasha and&ndash;&ldquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;We were both among the lost,&rdquo; Sasha interrupted, shooting Debarre a warning glance.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Complicated stuff. Both Michelle and&ndash;&ldquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We were both among the lost,&rdquo; she interrupted, shooting Debarre a warning glance.</p>
 <p>Jonas held his hands up to forestall further conversation. &ldquo;This is between you two. You can share what you want when you&rsquo;ve got it sorted out.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Debarre nodded sullenly. Sasha looked down at her paws.</p>
+<p>Debarre nodded sullenly. Michelle looked down at her hands.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;While we&rsquo;re on complicated subjects, I have an admission to make.&rdquo; Jonas looked sheepish. &ldquo;I have a small clade of my own on the side. All for personal stuff, of course, nothing tied to the Council.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Debarre tilted his head, then laughed. It was an earnest laugh, full-throated, and Sasha realized that Jonas had said precisely the right thing to cut through the tension.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Do you have some equally stupid clade name?&rdquo; Sasha said, grinning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you have some equally stupid clade name?&rdquo; Michelle said, grinning.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Oh, just the Jonas Clade. I&rsquo;m going to keep forking as long as I have reputation, so we&rsquo;ve been naming ourselves with syllables. There&rsquo;s plenty enough of those. I&rsquo;ll stay Jonas Prime, but there&rsquo;s already a Ku, Ar, and Re Jonas.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Fucking nerd.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Jonas batted his eyes at Debarre. &ldquo;Thank you. I try.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>After a bit more chatter, Debarre made his goodbyes and left the sim.</p>
-<p>Sasha and Jonas tacitly agreed to go for a walk down the street. The sim was of a comfortable, small town plaza, so it was a pleasant enough walk. They made their way to a central fountain and, while Jonas sat on the rim and watched, Sasha dumped hunk after hunk of reputation to create her ten forks. They alternated between looking like Michelle and looking like Sasha. Each introduced herself in turn.</p>
+<p>Michelle and Jonas tacitly agreed to go for a walk down the street. The sim was of a comfortable, small town plaza, so it was a pleasant enough walk. They made their way to a central fountain and, while Jonas sat on the rim and watched, Michelle dumped hunk after hunk of reputation to create her ten forks. They alternated between looking like Michelle and looking like Sasha. Each introduced herself in turn.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;I Am At A Loss For Images In This End Of Days of the Ode Clade.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Life Breeds Life But Death Must Now Be Chosen.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Oh, But To Whom Do I Speak These Words.&rdquo;</p>
@@ -102,7 +102,7 @@
 <p>She laughed. &ldquo;Oh, sure. Let us go with &lsquo;True Name&rsquo;.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Much better! Alright, your assignment is to work with me on the individual rights conversation.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Is that heating up?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yeah, there&rsquo;s some real grade-A stupidity going on out there.&rdquo; Jonas paused to wave to the rest of the Ode Clade, which left the sim en masse. &ldquo;Lots of this and that about how software can&rsquo;t be an individual blah blah blah. One particularly vile shithead suggested that if we wanted to be treated as individuals, we would need to contribute to society as equals with those still in the embodied world. He suggested we could split the system and dump individuals into flight computers and software rigs and other expert systems to run those so that they wouldn&rsquo;t have to.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yeah, there&rsquo;s some real grade-A stupidity going on out there.&rdquo; Jonas paused to wave to the rest of the Ode Clade, which left the sim <em>en masse</em>. &ldquo;Lots of this and that about how software can&rsquo;t be an individual blah blah blah. One particularly vile shithead suggested that if we wanted to be treated as individuals, we would need to contribute to society as equals with those still in the embodied world. He suggested we could split the system and dump individuals into flight computers and software rigs and other expert systems to run those so that they wouldn&rsquo;t have to.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>True Name frowned. &ldquo;What a dick. Is that kind of opinion common out there? I am still coming off the mountain of work that was the reputation market.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Not so common now, but those voices are getting louder by the week.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Damn.&rdquo;</p>
@@ -118,7 +118,7 @@
 <p>True Name laughed. &ldquo;Never mind. Let us go change some minds.&rdquo;</p>
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+                <p>Page generated on 2021-10-13</p>
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