From c2036683a4bec6d48a2ca322ccf04bc6e5e00f63 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Scott-Clary Date: Tue, 28 Feb 2023 22:50:10 -0800 Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup --- writing/post-self/marsh/002.html | 21 +++++++++++++++++++-- 1 file changed, 19 insertions(+), 2 deletions(-) diff --git a/writing/post-self/marsh/002.html b/writing/post-self/marsh/002.html index fd25b5d2e..b86d45a3d 100644 --- a/writing/post-self/marsh/002.html +++ b/writing/post-self/marsh/002.html @@ -59,7 +59,7 @@

23:45.

Reed started to nod, then stiffened as they felt first one, then another set of memories crash down onto him. “Fuck. One of these…days I’ll convince…them to give me some warning…sec…”

Hanne laughed and shook her head, standing from the couch to go get herself a glass of water.

-

He closed his eyes to turn down one of his senses, setting the sweet-smelling glass of brandy aside to rid himself of another as best he could. He sat and spent a moment processing, savoring the memories. Rush had forked and quit first. They’d split off a new copy of themself then the original had quit. On doing so, all the memories they’d formed over the last year fell down onto Reed, ready to be remembered like some forgotten word on the tip of his tongue: all he needed to do was actually remember. Next had come Sedge. Clearly, Tule had already done so, forking and merging back down into Sedge so that he could fork and merge down into Reed. Three sets of memories — two from his direct up-tree instances and one from a second-degree up-tree instance — rested on his mind, ready for integration.

+

He closed his eyes to turn down one of his senses, setting the sweet-smelling glass of brandy aside to rid himself of another as best he could. He sat and spent a moment processing, savoring the memories. Rush had forked and quit first. Ve had split off a new copy of themself then the original had quit. On doing so, all the memories they’d formed over the last year fell down onto Reed, ready to be remembered like some forgotten word on the tip of his tongue: all he needed to do was actually remember. Next had come Sedge. Clearly, Tule had already done so, forking and merging back down into Sedge so that he could fork and merge down into Reed. Three sets of memories — two from his direct up-tree instances and one from a second-degree up-tree instance — rested on his mind, ready for integration.

There would be time for full perusal and remembering later. It was rapidly approaching midnight, and he needed to get the memories sorted into his own, interleaved and zippered together into as cohesive a whole as he could manage, all conflicts addressed (though with as separate as their lives had been until then, there was thankfully quite little in the way of conflicting memories), so that, shortly before midnight, he could fork and then quit, himself, letting that new copy of himself live out the next year with Hanne, with all their joys and sorrows, while the original instance quit and let all those memories — those of Rush, Sedge, Tule, and himself — fall to Marsh to process, savor, and treasure for himself.

He heard Hanne return, heard her climb back onto the couch before him, felt her press a cold glass of water into his hand.

Five minutes left.

@@ -185,7 +185,24 @@

Everyone talking at once quickly grew overwhelming. Reed shook his head, covered his ears with his hands, then, remembering that he was standing in the middle of a small crowd, tried to mask the movement by turning it into running his fingers through his fur.

“Okay, one at a time,” he said, having to speak up to drown out further exclamations. “I’m seeing 246+41. Everyone else seeing the same thing?”

Nods around.

-

“Any, uh…” He swallowed drily, looked around, and grabbed the glass of water that still sat, neglected, on the table beside the couch. After a careful sip, he tried again. “Any ideas as to what might have happened?

+

“Any, uh…” He swallowed drily, looked around, and grabbed the glass of water that still sat, neglected, on the table beside the couch. After a careful sip, he tried again. “Any ideas as to what might have happened?”

+

Silence.

+

“Well, has anything like this happened before?”

+

Everyone in the room turned to look at Dry Grass, who shrugged helplessly. “Not that I can remember. The closest would be periods of downtime. It has happened a few times over the centuries. There was a few days of downtime while Lagrange was being set up during Secession.”

+

“But not, what…thirteen months?” Cress asked. “Thirteen months and ten days, almost exactly.”

+

“I have never seen that amount of time lapse, no.”

+

Tule piped up, saying, “Nothing on the perisystem about anything like this happening before, but holy shit are the feeds going off.”

+

“Really?” Reed asked, then laughed. “Sorry, stupid question. Of course they are.”

+

“And?” Rush said, impatient. “What are they saying?”

+

“It’s pretty much this conversation repeated a million times over. I think a lot of people do the same sort of thing we do. A lot of talking about the jump in time, about trying to quit and…”

+

Vos frowned. “And what?”

+

“Well, I mean,” Tule stammered. “Same thing, I guess. Nothing.”

+

Dry Grass tilted her head, then nodded. “Another fork is keeping a tally. Missing instances are now numbering in the thousands.”

+

Vos took another half-step back. “Wait, thousands?“

+

“It is proving difficult to keep up with the feeds,” she said, speaking slowly. Perhaps still receiving updates? “One of me is just reading the feeds and marking a tally every time a missing instance is mentioned.”

+

“Thousands, Jesus,” Hanne whispered. “I should check in on (TODO). And probably–“

+

She jumped as Pierre sagged briefly against Vos, then either quit or left the sim. “He…I mean…” Vos began, shook her head, and then followed suit.

+