“Oh, I’m pretty sure it is, but we’re beholden to stereotypes.”
She poked him in the side, grinning. “You must be drunk if you’re using words like ‘mawkish’ and ‘beholden’. Let’s see. You could introduce me to Marsh, maybe.”
Reed shook his head. “That’s not on me, you know that. We have a one-way relationship.”
-“But he’s your down-tree instance! You’re patterned after him. You talk every year at least once, right? You’ll talk to him later tonight, right? You have for the last hundred.”
-“No, probably not. If I hear from him directly, anything more than just a ping, I’ll know something’s gone horribly wrong.” He shrugged — carefully, what with her head resting on his shoulder. “Like I say, it’s a one-way relationship. All I do is live my own life, right? I stay in touch with the rest of the clade to greater or lesser extent, but Marsh has his own life.”
-“He has several.”
-“Right. We all fork, we all merge back down to whoever our down-tree instance is, and since I was forked from him, I merge down directly. He gets all our lives, one year at a time, but we don’t really get anything in return.”
+“But they’re your down-tree instance! You’re patterned after them. You talk every year at least once, right? You’ll talk to them later tonight, right? You have for the last hundred.”
+“No, probably not. If I hear from then directly, anything more than just a ping, I’ll know something’s gone horribly wrong.” He shrugged — carefully, what with her head resting on his shoulder. “Like I say, it’s a one-way relationship. All I do is live my own life, right? I stay in touch with the rest of the clade to greater or lesser extent, but Marsh has their own life.”
+“They have several.”
+“Right. We all fork, we all merge back down to whoever our down-tree instance is, and since I was forked from them, I merge down directly. They get all our lives, one year at a time, but we don’t really get anything in return.”
He could hear the frown in her voice. “How miserable.”
“What, our relationship?”
-“Just…him. How miserable he has to be, right? He lives his life doing whatever, spending his whole year remembering the previous year from, what, five instances?”
+“Just…them. How miserable they have to be, right? They live their life doing whatever, spending their whole year remembering the previous year from, what, five instances?”
“Six. Me, Lily, Cress, Rush, Sedge, and Tule.”
“That’s another thing you could do: be a little less weird.”
He laughed, kissed atop her head. “Uh huh. Love you too.”
-“But I was saying he has to be miserable. He chills out in his house and spends his days remembering yours, you and your cocladists, and just living vicariously through you all.”
-“That’s not all he does. He sings. He’s got Vos and Pierre, right? He spends time with his partners. He goes to Vos’s plays. He has friends over. He sings a lot. He cooks–“
-“Is he as bad a cook as you?”
+“But I was saying they have to be miserable. They chill out in their house and spends their days remembering yours, you and your cocladists, and just living vicariously through you all.”
+“That’s not all they do. They sing. They have Vos and Pierre, right? They spend time with their partners. They go to Vos’s plays. They have friends over. They sing a lot. They cook–“
+“Are they as bad a cook as you?”
“Oh, worse, according to Tule’s girlfriend. Truly terrible.”
She laughed.
-“He has a full and fulfilling life, is what I’m saying. He’s happy, it’s just that his happiness doesn’t include communication with his up-tree instances.”
+“They have a full and fulfilling life, is what I’m saying. They’re happy, it’s just that their happiness doesn’t include communication with their up-tree instances.”
“Why not?”
-Reed yawned, slouched down further on the couch along with Hanne. “He very specifically wants us to live our own lives. He doesn’t want us to just be versions of him. He can make all of those he wants for his little tasks. He specifically wants us to be something other than what he is so that he can experience that on his own terms.”
-“Don’t see how that’s any different,” she mumbled. Sleep threatened, even with some time left before midnight. “You all merging down like that is just doing the same thing in reverse, You’re making him a version of you all, even if you’re not just a version of him.”
+Reed yawned, slouched down further on the couch along with Hanne. “They very specifically want us to live our own lives. They don’t want us to just be versions of them. They can make all of those they want for their little tasks. They specifically want us to be something other than what they are so that they can experience that on their own terms.”
+“Don’t see how that’s any different,” she mumbled. Sleep threatened, even with some time left before midnight. “You all merging down like that is just doing the same thing in reverse, You’re making them a version of you all, even if you’re not just a version of them.”
Reed turned that thought over in his head, held it at arm length, let the light of the fire shine through the fog of champagne and brandy onto it to admire just how strangely it was shaped. “Well, huh.”
“See? You’re so weird.”
“I guess we are,” he said, smiling and nudging Hanne upright once more. “No dozing off, now.”
She grumbled and rubbed at her face. “Sorry if that came off as rude. I guess it’s just outside my understanding.”
-He scooted up onto the couch, himself, sitting cross-legged to face her. “It’s okay. It’s not wrong, even, I just don’t think it’s wholly right, either. It’s a matter of intent. Our intent is to live our own lives to the fullest, and it’s his intent to let us do so and yet still be able to experience that at one layer of remove. We’ve been doing it for a century, and it’s worked out well enough since then. If all this–” he waved around the room, feeling the gentle spin of drunkenness follow the movement, “–is just a dream, if we’re all doing our best to dream in unison with each other, then I think intent may be all that we have, right? However may billion or trillion people have uploaded are all trying to dream the same dream together, all mixed up and poured into the same System, we have to form what meanings we may on our own.”
+He scooted up onto the couch, himself, sitting cross-legged to face her. “It’s okay. It’s not wrong, even, I just don’t think it’s wholly right, either. It’s a matter of intent. Our intent is to live our own lives to the fullest, and it’s their intent to let us do so and yet still be able to experience that at one layer of remove. We’ve been doing it for a century, and it’s worked out well enough since then. If all this–” he waved around the room, feeling the gentle spin of drunkenness follow the movement, “–is just a dream, if we’re all doing our best to dream in unison with each other, then I think intent may be all that we have, right? However may billion or trillion people have uploaded are all trying to dream the same dream together, all mixed up and poured into the same System, we have to form what meanings we may on our own.”
“I think we broke two trillion instances a while back. I don’t know how may uploads, but I don’t think it’s hit a trillion yet.”
“Right. Sorry, guess I’m kinda rambly when I’m drunk.”
Leaning forward, she gave him a light kiss. “It’s okay, I like it when you ramble. Just don’t lose track of the time.”
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. 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 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 verself then the original had quit. On doing so, all the memories ve’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 themself.
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.
Three.
@@ -75,15 +75,15 @@“See? You’re so weird.”
“I guess we are,” he said, smiling and nudging Hanne upright once more. “Hey now, no falling asleep on me.”
“Right, sorry. Still, uh…still fifteen minutes.” She grumbled and rubbed at her face. “Sorry if that came off as rude. I guess it’s just outside my understanding.”
-He scooted up onto the couch, himself, sitting cross-legged to face her. “It’s okay. It’s not wrong, come to think of it, I just don’t think it’s wholly right, either, you know? It’s more a matter of intent. Our intent is to live our own lives doing as we will rather than as he would, and it’s his intent to let us do so — and by not interfering, even with communication, force us to do so — and yet still be able to experience that almost like a dream. He forked us off a century ago, me, Lily, and Cress, and we’ve been doing it for the last century, and it’s worked out well enough since then. If all this–” he waved around the room, feeling the gentle spin of drunkenness follow the movement, “–is just a dream, if we’re all doing our best to dream in unison with each other, then I think intent may be all that we have, right? However may billion or trillion people have uploaded are all trying to dream the same dream together, all mixed up and poured into the same System, we have to form what meanings we may on our own.”
+He scooted up onto the couch, himself, sitting cross-legged to face her. “It’s okay. It’s not wrong, come to think of it, I just don’t think it’s wholly right, either, you know? It’s more a matter of intent. Our intent is to live our own lives doing as we will rather than as they would, and it’s their intent to let us do so — and by not interfering, even with communication, force us to do so — and yet still be able to experience that almost like a dream. They forked us off a century ago, me, Lily, and Cress, and we’ve been doing it for the last century, and it’s worked out well enough since then. If all this–” he waved around the room, feeling the gentle spin of drunkenness follow the movement, “–is just a dream, if we’re all doing our best to dream in unison with each other, then I think intent may be all that we have, right? However may billion or trillion people have uploaded are all trying to dream the same dream together, all mixed up and poured into the same System, we have to form what meanings we may on our own.”
“I think we broke two trillion instances a while back. I don’t know how may uploads, but I don’t think it’s hit a trillion yet.”
“Right. Sorry, guess I’m kinda rambly when I’m drunk.”
Leaning forward, she gave him a light kiss. “You know I like it when you ramble. Just don’t lose track of the time.”
23:45.
Reed started to nod, willed away the drunkenness, then stiffened as he 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, taking one more sip of the sweet-smelling brandy before setting it aside to rid himself of another two 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 their 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 closed his eyes to turn down one of his senses, taking one more sip of the sweet-smelling brandy before setting it aside to rid himself of another two 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 verself then the original had quit. On doing so, all the memories ve’d formed over the last year fell down onto Reed, ready to be remembered like some forgotten word on the tip of their 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 themself.
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.
Two.
@@ -96,11 +96,11 @@He laughed and, as the clock struck midnight, willed themself to quit.
Then frowned.
“Something wrong?”
-He held up a finger and closed his eyes. Once more, they thought to himself, I’m ready to quit, then then willed that to be reality. Rather than the sudden nothingness that should have followed, he felt the System resist. He felt an elastic sensation that he’d never felt before. There was a barrier between him and the ability to quiet. He felt it, tested it, probed and explored. It was undeniably present, and though he sensed that they could probably press through it if he desired, it was as though Lagrange desperately did not want him to quit. It didn’t want the Reed of now to leave the System.
+He held up a finger and closed his eyes. Once more, they thought to himself, I’m ready to quit, then then willed that to be reality. Rather than the sudden nothingness that should have followed, he felt the System resist. He felt an elastic sensation that he’d never felt before. There was a barrier between him and the ability to quit. He felt it, tested it, probed and explored. It was undeniably present, and though he sensed that he could probably press through it if he desired, it was as though Lagrange desperately did not want him to quit. It didn’t want the Reed of now to leave the System.
“I can’t.”
-“You can’t?” Hanne tilted her head, then leaned forward to take one of his hands in her own. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I don’t think Marsh will mind if you’re a few minutes late. Hell, you can even send him a message saying you don’t want to this year. I think he’ll–“
+“You can’t?” Hanne tilted her head, then leaned forward to take one of his hands in her own. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I don’t think Marsh will mind if you’re a few minutes late. Hell, you can even send them a message saying you don’t want to this year. I think they’ll–“
“No, Hanne,” he said, carefully slipping his hand free so that he could stand. “I mean I can’t. I’m not able to. It’s impossible. Or possible, but– wait, hold on.”
-It had been more than a decade since he’d done so, but if ever there was a reason to do so, this was it. There were very few reasons that the System would try to stop an instance for quitting and one of them, well, no– It had been more than a decade since he’d broken the communication embargo, but ey sent Marsh a gentle ping.
+It had been more than a decade since he’d done so, but if ever there was a reason to do so, this was it. There were very few reasons that the System would try to stop an instance for quitting and one of them, well, no– It had been more than a decade since he’d broken the communication embargo, but he sent Marsh a gentle ping.
Or tried to, at least.
All the ping was was a gentle nudge against the recipient’s sensorium, a sense that someone was looking for them, was seeking them out, was just checking if they were free, if they were even there. From the sender’s side, it felt like a gentle touch, a brush of some more metaphorical finger against the symbolic shoulder of the recipient, a reassurance that they were indeed there.
But there was nothing. Reed felt nothing. No sense of Marsh. Attempting to send a sensorium ping to someone that didn’t exist just felt like daydreaming. It felt like a silly, pointless imagining, as though one was imagining that they could touch God on the shoulder or shake hands with the devil.
@@ -123,17 +123,17 @@Silence fell thick across the room. The clade — Marsh’s clade — stared, wide-eyed. Their expressions ranged for unsure to terrified. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what expression showed on his face.
-“Okay, no, hold on,” Hanne said, shaking her head and waving her hand. She appeared to have willed drunkenness away much as he had, as her voice was clear, holding more frustration than the panic he felt. “Did he quit? He couldn’t have, right? You just talked to him earlier today.”
+“Okay, no, hold on,” Hanne said, shaking her head and waving her hand. She appeared to have willed drunkenness away much as he had, as her voice was clear, holding more frustration than the panic he felt. “Did they quit? They couldn’t have, right? You just pinged them earlier today.”
He nodded.
-“And he said nothing about quitting?”
+“And they said nothing about quitting?”
“Nothing.”
Hanne glanced around the room, singling out Marsh’s other two immediate up-tree instances, Cress and Lily. Both shook their heads.
-“I was just talking to him about an hour ago, actually. He and Vos were wrapping up the first part of the night’s celebration and they were going to–“
+“I was just talking to them about an hour ago, actually. They and Vos were wrapping up the first part of the night’s celebration and they were going to–“
“Vos!” Reed shouted. “Shit, sorry Lily.”
It took a minute for Vos to respond to Reed’s ping. Reed? It’s been a bit. What’s up?
Is Marsh there? he sent back.
-I don’t know. I figured he was in the study waiting on you. It’s been a bit and I just made us drinks, but he’s not in there now. Is something wrong?
-Can you ping him?
+I don’t know. I figured they were in the study waiting on you. It’s been a bit and I just made us drinks, but they’re not in there now. Is something wrong?
+Can you ping them?
There was a short pause, followed by a sensorium glimpse of a familiar room, that study from so long ago, every flat surface that wasn’t the floor covered in stacks of unread books. Empty.
What’s happening? Vos sent. There was an edge of caution to her voice, the sound of a thin barrier keeping worry at bay.
Pierre?
@@ -141,13 +141,13 @@He messaged over the address, and a few seconds later, Fenne Vos and Pierre LaFontaine arrived holding hands, leading to another yelp from Hanne.
“Vos! Hi,” she said, preempting any of Marsh’s up-tree instances. “Do you know where Marsh is?”
Some small part of Reed looked on in admiration. Hanne had kept much of the panic that was coursing through him and his cocladists out of her voice. He could feel a shout building within him, and he knew from past experiences with Vos and Pierre that that would only make things worse.
-“We didn’t see him around,” Vos answered, and that barrier between caution and worry seemed to be giving way. “Why? If you’re all here, I’m guessing something happened?”
-“Have you been able to ping him?”
+“We didn’t see them around,” Vos answered, and that barrier between caution and worry seemed to be giving way. “Why? If you’re all here, I’m guessing something happened.”
+“Have you been able to ping them?”
Both Vos and Pierre shook their heads.
The sight of Cress and Tule bowing their heads to whisper to each other caught Reed’s eye, and a moment later their partner, a stocky woman with curly black hair, appeared between them, looking as though she’d come straight from a party, herself.
“Stop!” Hanne said, then laughed nervously at the silence that followed. She gestured absentmindedly with a hand, pressing the bounds of the sim outward to expand the room. It had started getting more crowded. “You’re doing it again, Reed.”
“What?” He tamped down indignation. “Sorry, Hanne, there’s a lot going on.”
-“Right, I get that, but can you start at the beginning for those of us outside the clade? What did you mean you don’t think he’s on Lagrange?”
+“Right, I get that, but can you start at the beginning for those of us outside the clade? What did you mean you don’t think they’re on Lagrange?”
At this, both Vos and Pierre took a half-step back, looking startled.
00:11
Reed spent a moment composing himself. He stood up straighter, brushed his hands down over his shirt, and nodded. “Right. I’m sorry, love. When midnight hit, I forked and tried to quit as usual. I couldn’t, though. The System wouldn’t let me.”
@@ -245,7 +245,7 @@“Really, really weird,” Sedge muttered.