Codrin Bălan#Pollux — 2325
The first direction from the L5 System came in the form of a message from May Then My Name Die With Me. “Find Ezekiel,” it read. “Talk with him. Be patient, be kind.”
When ey showed it to Dear, the fox’s ears stood erect, and it led Codrin out of the house to stand on the patio and watch the storm from the safety of the overhang.
“Please be careful, my dear.”
“Do I have something to worry about? Should I be prepared for violence or something?”
It should its head. “I do not think so, no. Ezekiel was a member of the Council of Eight. One of the founders. He was close to much that happened in the early history of the System.”
“What did he do?” Codrin shook eir head. “I mean, what is it that he’s known for?”
“Forking.”
Ey let out the air in their lungs in one, low huh. It felt as though ey had been kicked in the stomach, and ey struggled to regain eir breath as stars swum before eir eyes. “Forking? You’ve got to be kidding me, Dear.”
The fox laughed. “I am not.”
“I thought that that was a core aspect of the system from the beginning.”
“It was an accident at first. Someone split in two — not Michelle, before you ask — and the System automatically corrected and deleted both forks. The population was quite low at that point, and Zeke knew the victim. As part of his grief, he began to formulate the sys-side algorithms and drafted the petition to phys-side for allowing legitimate forking of personalities.”
“And Michelle helped?”
“She coordinated between Ezekiel, phys-side, and another council-member on the logistics and how it was associated with the reputation markets, yes.”
After a moment of staring out into the rain-clouded prairie, Codrin said, “I’m constantly surprised at just how much of a frontier it was back then, and just how many pies your clade seems to have had its fingers in.”
Dear smiled tiredly.
“So, why did you bring me out here?”
“It is nice to talk about serious things with the sound of rain in the background.”
“Really?”
“Of course not, my dear.” It gestured back through the window, where its partner sat, reading. “They do not enjoy hearing me talk of that time in our lives.”
Codrin frowned. “I think I know the answer, but should I interview them?”
“Please do not, Codrin. I do not want to bring up painful conversations of the past, nor do I wish to you to learn all that they know from a single source.”
“I understand. Ioan mentioned that May Then My Name has been cagey around her past as well– No.” Ey held up a hand to forestall a comment from Dear. “You don’t need to defend her, or yourself, for that matter. I won’t push you for more history. I would, however, like to hear your reasoning for these decisions.”
“For withholding information?”
“For withholding it yourself. It seems as though you want us — you as in the Ode clade, us as in the Bălan clade — to discover things on our own. Why?”
Dear stuck a paw out, palm up, beneath a downspout and the steady stream of water that flowed from it, letting the water soak into its fur. “There are parts of our past that I am ashamed of. Many of my cocladists are, as well. You could interview any one of us about the entirety of our story, even me, and we would tell you, but we would also resent you for that.”
Codrin waited Dear out.
“We would resent you, and the temptation to lie would be too great. It is better that you gather this information piecemeal to gain a more accurate picture of what it is that happened leading up to both Secession and Launch. May Then My Name is right. You should seek out the founders. You should seek out someone other than an Odist. You should seek out one who did not simply agree with us that far back.”
“Alright, I can accept that.”
It leaned in to bump its nose against eir cheek. “Thank you, my dear. Be kind to Ezekiel, as May Then My Name suggests. Be patient with him. Be careful for his sake. Be prepared for a difficult conversation.”
“Difficult how?”
“He is not who he used to be. Time has not been kind to him, to his sanity. He is no longer the shrewd and funny politician he was back then. Since about the time of the launch proposal, he has returned to being called Ezekiel and donned the mantle of his namesake.”
“What’s that?”
Dear shook its paw dry. “A prophet.”
Codrin was not sure what a prophet looked like, but the conversation with Dear dogged em all the way until ey was able to find Ezekiel and get him to agree to an interview.
What at first looked like a bundle of rags set in the middle of a rocky, arid plain, slowly raised an arm up toward the sky. It was a shaky movement, exhausted, as though the movement caused it great pain. Surrounding the bundle was a scattering of what looked to be clay pots, each of which was lidded with a wooden stopper, and in the air was a foul scent.
“Ezekiel?”
A low rasp came from the pile of rags. “Codrin Bălan. I have been waiting for you.”
Unable to think of anything else to do, ey sat down next to the bundle of rags. Hidden within it may have been a face, but ey wasn’t sure. “Waiting for me?”
“Yes. A voice from within spoke to me and I knew it to be that of the Lord, and I fell down upon my face, and it entered into me and set me back on my feet, and held out a scroll. He said to me, “Mortal, eat what is offered you. Eat this scroll.” So I opened my mouth, and He gave me this scroll to eat, as he said to me, “Mortal, feed your stomach and fill your belly with this scroll that I give to you.” And I ate it, and it tasted as sweet as honey to me.”
A long pause followed, during which Codrin did not speak, but silently wished for the scent of honey, rather than the scent of something burning.
“And so I knew that you were to come and to take my story.”
Ey nodded. “I’ve come to interview you, yes. A few members of the Ode clade suggested that I seek you out.”
A dry rattle sounded from within the dusty rags, and it took em a moment to understand that this was laughter. “Yes. Yes, of course they did. Speak, Codrin Bălan. Ask me your questions.”
“I have a few. Some about the launch, and some about Secession.”
“Ask me first about Launch.”
“Did you leave a fork behind on the L5 System?”
“No,” he said. A finger rose tiredly from the upraised hand. “The word of the Lord came to me: O mortal, turn your face towards man’s iniquity in the heavens and prophesy to them and say: O cruel men of machinations, you have broken your treaties with the earth which God has set before you, and though it be the doing of the many who are one, leave now the world of your birth that it be washed clean of your sin. You may have hoped for life as gods of the false idols, but the heavens are no longer yours for such arrogance.”
Codrin remembered the admonition to be kind and patient, to be careful, and so ey sat in silence, as seemed appropriate.
“Those who sought to build their temple continue here, yes, and continue there, but judgement will yet come to them. I have seen the fire encased in flame and the sun’s eagerness to send us on our way, and that is my reason for leaving them behind, and I am to lay here for three hundred and ninety years, arm outstretched to the System, and live off the cakes of wheat, barley, beans, lentils, millet, and emmer, until perhaps we cross the threshold of the firmament.
“We diverge, Codrin Bălan. We of Castor and Pollux. The prophets diverge and so too the prophecy. How can two divergent prophecies be true? And yet they must, for the voice of the Lord has given us the scroll as sweet as honey, and our minds must be as one, though they be as split as the broken one.”
When the speech appeared to have concluded, Codrin bowed eir head. “That answers many of my questions, Ezekiel. You speak of the many who are one. Do you mean the idea of clades?”
“Yes. Some are the many who are one. Jonah, who is many that are one. Michelle, who is few that are one.”
Ey once more remained quiet, mind churning over what seemed to be the root of the Ode clade. Michelle? Breaking the treaties with the earth which God set before her? Michelle, who left the world of her birth? And who was this Jonah?
“There were eight of us,” Ezekiel said, and something about its voice sounded clearer, more present than it had before. “A council set to guide but not govern. We were to be the interface between our world and the Earth. The three from the East, the prophet, the nameless one, the politician, the broken one and her friend.”
Ezekiel must be the prophet, and surely Michelle was the broken one. Ey didn’t know the rest of the references, so ey filed the information away until later to look up. Ey felt the need to be completely present for the prophet.
“Guide towards Secession?”
“Not at first. At first, we were to be one people in two forms: those who had life entire on the earth that God set before them, and those who lived beyond death. Those who lived on Earth saw the idolatry in the System and with the help of True Name and the Jonah, built up a religion of separation, that we be two people in two forms.”
“True Name?”
The prophet turned a weary head towards Codrin. There was definitely a face there, ey saw, though it was dirty and blended seamlessly into the tattered rags that surrounded it. “One piece of the broken one.”
Ey closed eir eyes and rifled through the Ode that ey kept near to hand in an exocortex. There were two instances of the phrase; ‘The only time I know my true name is when I dream’, and ‘To know one’s true name is to know god’. Both of them made sense as a possibility, as the first was the first line of that stanza and would have been one of the earliest forks, but the second named god, which fit well with Ezekiel’s role as prophet.
After a moment’s thought, ey asked eir question, choosing eir words carefully. “The True Name who dreamed, or the True Name who knew god?”
Another raspy cackle came from the bundle of rags. “You need not mince your words with me, Codrin Bălan. I am the mystic, you are the poet. The Only Time I Know My True Name Is When I Dream, a broken vessel for a broken soul.”
Ey smiled cautiously, feeling a heat in eir cheeks. “Is True Name on the launch?”
“Yes.”
“Are they on the System as well?”
“Yes.”
“Should I interview them for this?”
Ezekiel once more turned his gaze toward the sky, supposing that that is where the abandoned planet must lie. “No. The Lord has put cords upon you, so that you cannot turn from your path. Your twin and your root shall seek her out, but you must seek out one borne of her, and you must seek out more of the eight who were to guide but not govern, and you must seek out Jonah, and you must see to your loved ones.”
Codrin nodded, taking down the list of names — if names they were — in eir abrupt shorthand. Ioan and Codrin#Castor would get to talk to True Name, apparently. I’ll get one of her up-tree instances, more of the Council of Eight, and this Jonah. Loved ones…Dear, perhaps?
“What should I ask them?”
“Ask them what you asked me. Each shall give you a different answer, and when they are brought together, you may see the past and write your poem, poet.” His arm began to waver, and then dropped once more to his side. “I am tired, Codrin Bălan, and I must eat and drink.”
Ey nodded and stood, folding eir notes and capping eir pen. Much as Dear said, ey thought. Combine the sources for a more clear picture. Ey said, “Thank you, Ezekiel. I hope that you enjoy your meal.”
A final rattling laugh, and the arm fumbled to the side where a flat cake had been cooking atop a pile of what looked like smoldering dung. Once more, his voice lost the edge of prophecy and became more cogent. “It’s vile stuff, but I’ll try.”