Codrin Balan#Pollux — 2325

Codrin and Dear walked, hand in paw, from cairn to cairn out through the prairie, tracing lines of exploration that Codrin had built over the years.

Ey had been surprised, at first, that Dear had agreed to this walk. The offer had been made on a whim: I’m going to walk the prairie, do you want to come?

And it had agreed, forking off an instance to continue its work in quiet while the down-tree fork tramped out into the fields. There was no storm today, hardly even any clouds, just a few patches of lazy shadow that drifted across the rolling landscape as their corresponding cumulus slid between sun and grass. It made for a pleasantly warm day with enough of a breeze to keep it from becoming outright hot, and quiet enough that the occasional clattering of a startled grasshopper sounded clear.

Historian and fox walked, hand in paw, from cairn to cairn, saying little, but saying it kindly.

“Codrin,” Dear asked as they passed another pile of rocks. “Did you bring me out here to talk about the interview?”

“That was on my list of things to talk about, but I also just wanted to spend time with you.”

It squeezed eir hand in its paw and smiled. “Thank you, my dear. It does mean a lot. Still, do tell me your thoughts on the interview.”

Codrin bent down to pluck a thin stem of grass as they walked, fiddling with it between nervous fingers, tapping the tip against eir chin. “I don’t know. It was surprisingly painful for me. I think it was painful for us both, of course, in our own ways. Still…”

“It still scared you?” Dear hazarded.

“I think so, yeah. I can understand the anxiety that one might not be missed after one leaves a place. Even in the face of knowledge that that’s not true — Ioan will miss you, May Then My Name will miss you, just about everyone who showed up at the death day party will, as well — it’s hard to really internalize that others will still be thinking of you when you aren’t there.”

The fox frowned, but nodded to Codrin all the same.

“It was just hard to hear you say “I want to die” so plainly.”

It squeezed eir hand in its paw, but remained silent.

“Especially after Michelle…”

Dear stopped suddenly, there by a cairn, leaving Codrin to keep walking until its paw tugged em to a stop in turn.

“Michelle made a difficult decision, but the right one,” it said. “I remember that pain, the inability to be just one thing, to be an entire person. I remember how those waves of instability always came with the urge to vomit. She made the right decision to choose her own end.”

“And the decision to not fix the split-mindedness?”

It frowned down to the ground. “I do not know if that was the right decision.”

Codrin turned to face the fox, taking its other paw in eir free hand. “Do you know why she made it, at least?”

“Yes. I think so. At least, I know why she made the decision two centuries ago. She felt that she was honoring the Name, that to get rid of that part of her that left her in that state after getting lost was to disrespect the referent of that name and all that they went through.”

Dear looked off into the prairie, so Codrin took the opportunity to lean forward and kiss it’s cheek. “It was difficult seeing her and then learning of her death, and given the associations that you have with her, I couldn’t help but think that there might be some of that in you when you said you wanted to die.”

“I know, and I apologize for that. It did not adequately express what that means to me, but was too quippy to turn down. I will be more careful with how I phrase these topics in the future.”

“Thank you, Dear. I’ve been giving it some thought, and I think I understand what you’re going for. I think we even talked about it after Qoheleth’s meeting. You wanted to find a way to…end, I think you put it.”

Dear grinned. It looked tired. “That we did, yes. I will say that this is not the same idea, though it does come from the same roots. I was thinking then that there ought to be some way for one personality to lead to another, to be free of those memories, yet for someone new to live on. The core of that is still there, but I suppose what I want is to come by an earnest death. A real death. Natural causes, such as it were. I don’t want to know when or how, but knowing that there is a limit to our immortality has become a comfort to me.”

Codrin disentangled eir hands from the foxes paws, opting instead to hug it around the middle. Dear reciprocated by looping its arms around eir shoulders.

“That’s sort of what I wound up suspecting you meant, yeah. I just didn’t pick up on it at the time is all.”

“Yes. Sorry, Codrin.”

“It’s okay, promise.”

They stood for a while, there in the prairie, each thinking their thoughts, until by some unspoken signal, they turned the side, of the cairn that hadn’t been explored and began walking.

“What’s next on your list?”

“Mm? In terms of interviews and such?”

“Yes. Do you know where you will start looking?”

“I was thinking I’d start asking around our friends and see who invested totally up here and who didn’t, then perhaps put out the question to a wider audience. That ought to get me a good amount of responses.”

“It is a bit of a shotgun approach, is it not?”

Codrin laughed, shrugged, and knelt down to begin building the next pile of stones. “You got any better ideas, fox?”

It knelt beside them, digging up stones of its own and handing them to em. “Of course I do. Do ask our friends, as I think they will have much to say, but also, while poking around, I saw that several of the founders have made the launch. I suppose that I am not surprised that this is the case..”

“Oh? That makes sense, I suppose” Ey plopped a root-tangled rock on top of the growing pile, laughing. “Something exciting after all those years, back to being at the heart of something important”

Dear splayed its ears. “It is hard to let go of that desire, yes. Many of them are quite mad now, however.”

“Mad how?”

“All of the council, all of those who uploaded so early, was reasonable in their own ways, but some more logical than others. I sure as hell was not.” It sat back on its heels and watched Codrin finish the cairn. “After things with the council began to disintegrate and the meaning of being a founder grew all the more poignant with the explosive population growth, many got frustrated and left to get up to their own things. Many of us…lost track of each other after that, but I have seen many of their names around there and there, and I know that several are on the launches, as well as the System. They might have some interesting insights to give you.”

“Interesting good? Interesting bad?” Ey laughed. “You can’t call them mad and then just leave ‘interesting’ hanging in there.”

“Of course I can.” It stood again, dusting off its legs. “But I love you, so I will not. As far as I can tell, many initially picked up artistic endeavors of some sort or another, and almost to a one, they became interested in history and preservation. I am sure that you have read several of their works. Much of the strain on their personalities began to show about twenty years ago.”

“Twenty years ago, huh? Around the time of the Qoheleth stuff? Or the launch?”

The fox only grinned.

“Well, I’ll put them on the list, then. I’m curious to hear what a mad founder has to say about travelling however many kilometers a second through space. Anyone else?”

“I am sure there are more Odists on here who would be willing to talk. Some of them might even be interesting.” It admired the waist-high cairn, smiling. “If you want actually interesting perspectives, however, you cannot go wrong hunting down artists, though. They will always have something to say.”