update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/marsh/004.html

@@ -26,7 +26,7 @@
 <p>I reach out mentally to send a sensorium ping to Dry Grass, only for the perisystem architecture to present me with a series of options, numbering well above a dozen. She&rsquo;d been busy, apparently, forking as needed throughout the night and– yep, two of those available instances disappear as they quit, followed shortly by one more new one. She&rsquo;s still awake, apparently.</p>
 <p><em>Good morning, Reed,</em> her root instance murmurs through a message. <em>More well rested, now?</em></p>
 <p><em>Best I can be, at least,</em> I send back. <em>I, uh&hellip;sorry for interrupting. The rest of the clade&rsquo;s asleep and I don&rsquo;t want to pester Hanne any more than I need to, not after last night.</em></p>
-<p>There&rsquo;s mirth on the other end, some barely sensed laughter that doesn&rsquo;t quite rise to the level of coming through the message. <em>It was rather stressful, was it not? You do not need to apologize, however. How are you feeling?</em></p>
+<p>There&rsquo;s mirth on the other end, some barely sensed laughter that doesn&rsquo;t quite rise to the level of coming through the message. Another tug at my emotions left over from Tule&rsquo;s merge. <em>It was rather stressful, was it not? You do not need to apologize, however. How are you feeling?</em></p>
 <p><em>Honestly?</em></p>
 <p><em>Please. I want to hear.</em></p>
 <p><em>I&rsquo;m feeling like shit.</em> I laugh, shaking my head. <em>I mean, of course I am. I&rsquo;m some awful mix of hopeful that there&rsquo;s some solution, mourning Marsh, kicking myself for mourning them maybe preemptively, kicking myself for not doing more, and just plain confused.</em></p>
@@ -36,7 +36,17 @@
 <p><em>And the rest of you?</em></p>
 <p><em>Working.</em></p>
 <p>I finish my coffee in two coarse swallows, wince at the uncomfortable sensation. I take another moment to stand up and start making the bed again. As I do so, I ask, <em>What on? I saw a ton of forks.</em></p>
-<p>The sense of a nod, and then, *Several things. One of me is still keeping tallies on how many are missing based on reports, which appears to be some few million so far. Another of me is collating the varied types of posts on the feeds — wild supposition, unchecked grief, confusion, and so on. Another is speaking to&hellip;a member of the eighth stanza</p>
+<p>The sense of a nod, and then, <em>Several things. One of me is still keeping tallies on how many are missing based on reports, which appears to be some few million so far. Another of me is collating the varied types of posts on the feeds — wild supposition, unchecked grief, confusion, and so on. Another is speaking to&hellip;a member of the eighth stanza through an intermediary–</em></p>
+<p><em>This &lsquo;An Answer&rsquo; you mentioned?</em></p>
+<p><em>Yes. The Only Time I Dream Is When I Need An Answer. She is the one who has focused on interpersonal connections, which is only relevant in that she is the only one willing to pass on information to the portions of the clade that cut them off, about twenty of us.</em></p>
+<p>I snort. <em>Minus you, I guess.</em></p>
+<p><em>Well, yes. Nominally twenty of us,</em> she sends, and I can sense that almost-laughter again.</p>
+<p><em>Any news from Castor or Pollux?</em></p>
+<p><em>Yes,</em> she replies, hesitates, then continues, <em>Though would you be willing to go for a walk to discuss what I have heard?</em></p>
+<p><em>I guess. Why?</em></p>
+<p><em>So I can get out of the house. So</em> you <em>can get out of the house. So we can actually talk instead of me sitting in a war room populated by too many of me and you making your bed or whatever it is you are doing now.</em></p>
+<p>I hesitate, halfway through smoothing out the sheets. <em>Oh, uh&hellip;alright. Let me say good morning to Hanne. Do you have a place to meet?</em></p>
+<p>She sends the address of a public sim, to which I send a ping of acknowledgement.</p>
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                 <p>Page generated on 2023-06-05</p>