update from sparkleup
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<p>The dream repeated each night.</p>
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<p>As always, the hallway continued however many miles dream-logic determined it must, and as before, he kept walking down it, kept walking and walking and walking, right hand always trailing along the wall. That wall was of smooth stone, something coarser than marble and smoother than concrete, and as he felt it play out beneath his fingers, he heard the voices ahead of him.</p>
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<p>There was a room, there ahead of him. He could see the light spilling into the comparatively dim hallway. Sunlight, cool and bright. He could see that the left-hand wall of the hallway continued. A corner, then, the hallway dumping him out into the southeast corner of the room. Southeast…how did he know that?</p>
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<p>There was a room, there ahead of him. He could see the light spilling into the comparatively dim hallway. Sunlight, cool and bright. He could see that the left-hand wall of the hallway continued. A corner, then, the hallway dumping him out into the southeast corner of the room.</p>
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<p>Southeast…how did he know that?</p>
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<p>There on that wall, shadows played. Shadows of leaves, the arc of a fountain.</p>
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<p>And in that room, that soft rush of water only served to muffle the voices of so many others. They had to be the Artemisians. They had to be. But the water was just loud enough, added just enough white noise, that he could pick out no singular detail. There were fricatives. There were plosives. There were ejectives.</p>
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<p>And the harder he listened, the more details he almost-but-not-quite heard. First there was the sound of a masculine voice, and then the sound of something more feminine. First there was the careful modulation of some machine-produced voice, then the melodious tones of something undeniably organic.</p>
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@ -32,7 +33,7 @@
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<p>“You seem distracted today,” the skunk observed. “Not just tired. What is on your mind?”</p>
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<p>He jolted to awareness and smiled sheepishly to her. “Uh, just a dream sticking with me from last night. Third night in a row I’ve dreamed about them.”</p>
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<p>“The Artemisians?”</p>
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<p>He nodded. “Just like I can hear them talking, but not any details about them. I can hear <em>that</em> they’re talking, I guess. I keep trying to learn more and then waking up.”</p>
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<p>He nodded. “It’s like I can hear them talking, but not any details about them. I can hear <em>that</em> they’re talking, I guess. I keep trying to learn more and then I wake up.”</p>
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<p>True Name smiled. “I know the feeling, yes. It is that desire to know more, yet having it kept from you. Are you dreaming in their language or in English?”</p>
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<p>“I can’t even tell that. Sometimes I think it might be one and then some little phrase sounds like an accented version of the other. I wouldn’t be surprised, though. I’ve been learning as much of that as I can during the day.”</p>
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<p>“I imagine so, yes. Would you like a small break from language acquisition? If you are having dreams about them, perhaps you can come up with some specific questions and we can send them a message.” She patted him on the arm. “Time-boxed, of course, but it may give you a chance to come up with some ideas that we have not.”</p>
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<p>“Oh, uh,” he frowned. “I guess so. Answers Will Not Help?”</p>
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<p>She waved her hand in a non-answer, instead beckoning him over to another door along the wall. “Come on. Let us get this going. I am excited to hear what you come up with.”</p>
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<p>True Name raised her coffee cup to him and smile. “Good luck, Tycho. Do keep in touch.”</p>
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<p>The office was much smaller than the conference room where he’d initially met Sovanna and Dr. Verda.</p>
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<p>They sat on opposite sides of a desk, where the Odist swiped into existence two notepads and two pens. “Alright, so I have been told that you had a dream. Tell me about it.”</p>
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<p>The office was much smaller than the conference room where he’d initially met Sovanna and Dr. Verda. They sat on opposite sides of a desk, where the Odist swiped into existence two notepads and two pens. “Alright, so I have been told that you had a dream. Tell me about it.”</p>
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<p>As he did, she jotted down details on her own notepads, occasionally asking him questions — did he remember what the air smelled like? Were there human voices as well? Why were you anxious about being found out? — and though it felt silly at first, he realized that she had teased out greater details of what it was that his dreaming mind was curious about.</p>
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<p>“Alright,” she said. “Let us come up with five questions out of this. They seem to like the number five.”</p>
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<p>“I think we have <em>how often do the four races interact?</em> already. If you think that we can do one paragraph per question, perhaps we can ask about whether there are common areas that have a <em>lingua franca</em>, too.”</p>
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<p>“If you think that we can do one paragraph per question, perhaps we can ask about whether there are common areas that have a <em>lingua franca</em>, too. I think we have <em>how often do the four races interact?</em> already.”</p>
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<p>She shrugged as he wrote down the question. “I do not see why not. We are not limited on bandwidth. I would also like to know if they have similar strategies of forking, if they even have such. As part of that, we can ask about clade structures and naming, given the implications of both Turun Ka and Turun Ko.”</p>
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<p>He took a moment to write this down, as well as a few other sub-questions she mentioned along the way.</p>
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<p>“What else do you think would be helpful?”</p>
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<p>She nodded.</p>
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<p>“What about when each of the races joined? That would give us an idea of how long they’ve been around.”</p>
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<p>“Good one.” She grinned, tapping her pen against the table. “I knew we kept you around for a reason.”</p>
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<p>Had she said it in any other tone of voice, had all these Odists not been so good at choosing his responses for him, it could have easily come off as insulting, but it was said with such obvious affection that he laughed. Something about her was ever-so-slightly different from Answers Will Not Help, though he couldn’t put his finger on what. She was more earnest, perhaps. More focused on making him feel good rather than only seeming always on the edge of laughter. Perhaps this Why Ask Questions who would be among the delegates, the one who had eaten with Tycho#Tasker.</p>
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<p>Had she said it in any other tone of voice, had all these Odists not been so good at choosing his responses for him, it could have easily come off as insulting, but it was said with such obvious affection that he laughed. Something about her was ever-so-slightly different from Answers Will Not Help, though he couldn’t put his finger on what. She was more earnest, perhaps. More focused on making him feel good rather than only seeming always on the edge of laughter. Perhaps this was the Why Ask Questions who would be among the delegates, the one who had eaten with Tycho#Tasker.</p>
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<p>And yet she’d not given her name, and so he was forced to consider the ‘long-lived fork’ scenario.</p>
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<p><em>This is why I’m a tasker,</em> ey thought. <em>I’ll never understand clades.</em></p>
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<p>“Should we also ask where they came from?” she continued.</p>
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<p>He frowned. “I don’t know about that one. It can be a very involved answer. Perhaps a separate set of questions for science down the line, since those will take them more time to come up with. Maybe we can come up with a list of questions to have them prepare answers for at the conference.”</p>
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<p>“Oh! Delightful idea!” She paused, and he imagined that she must be sending off a note to one of her cocladists. “We will tackle that a separate time. I agree with you, though, that keeping this to more cultural and social topics will help. We can offer similar in return. Let us ask about leisure activities, then. What kind of stories do they tell? How do they tell them? Is storytelling limited to certain individuals, or considered a skilled trade? Is there a concept of work to make leisure time important?”</p>
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<p>He frowned. “I don’t know about that one. It can be a very involved answer, and who knows, maybe even touchy. Perhaps a separate set of questions for science down the line, since those will take them more time to come up with. Maybe we can come up with a list of questions to have them prepare answers for at the conference.”</p>
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<p>“Oh! Delightful idea!” She paused, likely sending off a note to one of her cocladists. “We will tackle that a separate time. I agree with you, though, that keeping this to more cultural and social topics will help. We can offer similar in return. Let us ask about leisure activities, then. What kind of stories do they tell? How do they tell them? Is storytelling limited to certain individuals, or considered a skilled trade? Is there a concept of work to make leisure time important?”</p>
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<p>Tycho scribbled the rapid fire questions down on the pad, nodding as he did. Once he was finished, he said, “That got me thinking of another question, but I’m not sure how well it fits, so feel free to poke holes in it. How do you feel about asking if they dream?”</p>
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<p>She laughed delightedly and clapped her hands. “Oh, I absolutely love it, my dear. I only have one request of you.”</p>
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<p>“Yes?”</p>
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<p>He laughed, struggling to re-comb his hair with only his fingers. Once more surprised at just how comfortable she made him feel. He liked her, whoever she was.</p>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2022-01-16</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2022-02-11</p>
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