Marsh stories, contract; Motes Played thoughts, primer; Ask cover

marsh/content/prophecies.tex

@@ -4,7 +4,7 @@ It was not the type of din that Slow Hours expected for the one she and If I Dre
 
 She looked to If I Dream, who merely shrugged.
 
-Scanning the cafe-\emph{cum}-bike-repair-shop revealed little. It was certainly well populated enough, with every table in use and few enough empty chairs. In the corner by the window, a crowd of synthetic creatures of some sort had gathered, looking vaguely feline but with glassy faceplates showing LED-light eyes in sets of fixed expressions. While they were all far shorter than Slow Hours --- who one would be hard pressed to describe as tall --- the couch that they were sitting on looked to be barely able to hold their weight.
+Scanning the cafe-\emph{cum}-bike-repair-shop revealed little. It was certainly well populated enough, with every table in use and few enough empty chairs. In the corner by the window, a crowd of synthetic creatures of some sort had gathered, looking vaguely feline but with glassy faceplates showing LED-light eyes in sets of fixed expressions. While they were all far shorter than Slow Hours—who one would be hard pressed to describe as tall—the couch that they were sitting on looked to be barely able to hold their weight.
 
 Even if it was not the type of place for the target of their search, it was still incredibly endearing, and she made a note to herself to return some day.
 
@@ -44,7 +44,7 @@ She snorted. ``Well, okay, good point. I suppose I am still a little rattled, is
 
 The panther laughed once more. ``Well, I was going to say the story, but the coffee \emph{is} quite good here, so, yes.''
 
-It was only another minute or two of waiting before Hasher waved to get their attention, gesturing to three paper cups sitting on the bar, ready for them. Slow Hours dropped the cone of silence and winced at the sudden barrage of sounds that followed. She turned her hearing down a few ticks. ``Thank you,'' she said, bowing. ``By the way, we were hoping to meet up with a cocladist of ours. She is a skunk, a furry, built rather like myself.'' She gestured down at herself --- human, instead, with pale skin and curly black hair tied up in a messy bun, but stocky and short. ``Black fur, white stripe, a little jumpy. Have you seen her around?''
+It was only another minute or two of waiting before Hasher waved to get their attention, gesturing to three paper cups sitting on the bar, ready for them. Slow Hours dropped the cone of silence and winced at the sudden barrage of sounds that followed. She turned her hearing down a few ticks. ``Thank you,'' she said, bowing. ``By the way, we were hoping to meet up with a cocladist of ours. She is a skunk, a furry, built rather like myself.'' She gestured down at herself—human, instead, with pale skin and curly black hair tied up in a messy bun, but stocky and short. ``Black fur, white stripe, a little jumpy. Have you seen her around?''
 
 Wiping their hands on a towel hooked into the strings of their apron, Hasher nodded, tilting their head over toward the couch full of robots. ``The one who was sleeping there the last few weeks, I'm guessing?''
 
@@ -58,9 +58,9 @@ They nodded towards the back door of the shop as they started to make their way
 
 The two Odists bowed their thanks and carefully picked their way further over to the cafe side of the building, winding their way between tables until they reached the brick wall. There in the middle was a green, wooden door set into an arch, and above the arch ``INFINITE CAFÉ'' shone in tooth-achingly pink neon.
 
-The sim in which The Bean Cycle existed had a weather pattern tuned after somewhere in the northern hemisphere, so they had entered the shop sometime in early March --- a scant three weeks after Lagrange had come back online after the Century Attack --- where the air still had a bite to it and salt still stained the sidewalks out front from where the ice had been melted in the days prior. They had arrived late in the afternoon, the sun setting down along the street casting long shadows behind them.
+The sim in which The Bean Cycle existed had a weather pattern tuned after somewhere in the northern hemisphere, so they had entered the shop sometime in early March—a scant three weeks after Lagrange had come back online after the Century Attack—where the air still had a bite to it and salt still stained the sidewalks out front from where the ice had been melted in the days prior. They had arrived late in the afternoon, the sun setting down along the street casting long shadows behind them.
 
-When they stepped out into Infinite Café, though, it was the same bright, midsummer's noon as it always was there. The light came from everywhere and nowhere, and their shadows sat just beneath their feet. It was the perfect temperature --- no matter who you were, no matter your preferences, it was always perfect --- and it was as packed as ever.
+When they stepped out into Infinite Café, though, it was the same bright, midsummer's noon as it always was there. The light came from everywhere and nowhere, and their shadows sat just beneath their feet. It was the perfect temperature—no matter who you were, no matter your preferences, it was always perfect—and it was as packed as ever.
 
 If one percent of the population of Infinite Café was missing, Slow Hours could not tell, and for that she was grateful.
 
@@ -68,7 +68,7 @@ The sim was dead simple: it consisted of one, long road set into a thin torus. A
 
 Lining either side of the street were entrances to cafes. Cafes, coffee shops, doors leading out into libraries with coffee carts, alleyways leading out into sims where coffee was hawked from handcarts, dusty steps leading up into marketplaces where vendors boiled their coffee in their cezves in great vats of sand set over wood fires. Anywhere that served coffee to cladists that wanted was free to create an exit that led out into Infinite Café, and over the two centuries of its existence, it had grown from a labyrinthine maze of buildings to the ring-road that it was today.
 
-She had no clue how it worked, if it really was that big, but the sheer size of the System had been driven home quite effectively over the last few weeks --- 23 \emph{billion} dead! The number remained surreal --- so she was hopeful that there were no tricks involved, no attempts to make it look bigger than it was.
+She had no clue how it worked, if it really was that big, but the sheer size of the System had been driven home quite effectively over the last few weeks—23 \emph{billion} dead! The number remained surreal—so she was hopeful that there were no tricks involved, no attempts to make it look bigger than it was.
 
 She was hopeful that all of these people here on this relatively crowded street were real. She hoped they found coffee and friends and loved ones and long-lost selves.
 
@@ -120,7 +120,7 @@ If I Dream hesitated for a moment, then nodded. ``The creatures have left. There
 
 ``If we\ldots I mean, if I may set up a cone of silence, that will be fine, yes.''
 
-Slow Hours watched as the panther gently released her grip on the skunk, the two monochromatic animals --- one in baggy, colorful linen and wool, and the other in black form-fitting shirt and leggings --- separating cautiously, as though to move faster might once more send What Right Have I into manic pacing.
+Slow Hours watched as the panther gently released her grip on the skunk, the two monochromatic animals—one in baggy, colorful linen and wool, and the other in black form-fitting shirt and leggings—separating cautiously, as though to move faster might once more send What Right Have I into manic pacing.
 
 ``Shall we?'' Slow Hours asked, smiling reassuringly to her cocladists.
 
@@ -142,7 +142,7 @@ She nodded. ``She told me she just wanted\ldots ah, she requested''a bit more pr
 
 ``Is that what you have been doing during the day?''
 
-``I\ldots{}'' She trailed off, scrubbing her paws against her thighs. ``Some, perhaps. A little. We are still in \emph{shloshim,} but I cannot\ldots ah, I am not focused.''
+``I\ldots{}'' She trailed off, scrubbing her paws against her thighs. ``Some, perhaps. A little. We are still in \emph{Shloshim,} but I cannot\ldots ah, I am not focused.''
 
 ``You will have to forgive me for being a bit blunt,'' Slow Hours said gently. ``But are you overflowing?''
 
@@ -210,7 +210,7 @@ She tapped one finger. ``The first was about Qoheleth and his little\ldots adven
 
 The next finger, tapped. ``The second was about Michelle's death, and I will not repeat it.''
 
-She tapped her ring finger. ``The third happened in the midst of a play --- one of my yearly performances --- and in the scene, I was to fall to my knees and cry out,''The knife! At her neck, the knife!'' But instead, I passed out and apparently mumbled words not in the script which tallied exactly with Sasha's experience.''
+She tapped her ring finger. ``The third happened in the midst of a play—one of my yearly performances—and in the scene, I was to fall to my knees and cry out,''The knife! At her neck, the knife!'' But instead, I passed out and apparently mumbled words not in the script which tallied exactly with Sasha's experience.''
 
 There was a moment of silence as she considered the fourth and how best to describe it, not least because of the easy comparison to What Right Have I's dream as explained. Finally, she tapped her pinkie ``The fourth was a dream of a core part of me being removed through the back of my neck, a disappearing from the world and becoming a ghost in the next. There was more that I do not understand, visions of a field, a park, but I had that dream every night on the five nights leading up to New Year's.''
 
@@ -262,11 +262,11 @@ She trailed off and let her gaze wander down to the drink she still held in her
 
 Alarmed at the sudden shift in demeanor, Slow Hours scooted a few inches closer to If I Dream, offering her hand just as the panther had done for What Right Have I before.
 
-She accepted with a grateful~--- if still wan --- smile.
+She accepted with a grateful—if still wan—smile.
 
-Slow Hours returned that smile, saying quietly, ``That was the dream I had, you know. The premonition. An upwelling of joy and then an overflowing. She looked up to the sun, up to RJ, and then they were one and the same, and it was all joy.''
+Slow Hours returned that smile, saying quietly, ``That was the dream I had, you know. The premonition. An upwelling of joy and then an overflowing. She looked up to the sun, and the sun was RJ, and then they were one and the same, and it was all joy.''
 
-At this, What Right Have I burst into tears. She did not cry prettily, but very few people did. It was a brief cry, however, and soon after she scooted back to the furthest limit of the cone of silence and drew her legs up onto the couch with her, growling as she did, ``Slow Hours, you are the fucking worst.''
+At this, What Right Have I burst into tears. She did not cry prettily, but very few people did. It was a brief cry, however, and soon after, she scooted back to the furthest limit of the cone of silence and drew her legs up onto the couch with her, mumbling as she did, ``Slow Hours, you are the fucking worst.''
 
 ``I am the worst, yes,'' she said, voice still quiet and calm. ``But that is why I am choosing to believe that the premonition was true and why I am choosing to believe that she did find joy, or peace, or at least nothingness and freedom.''