Toledot minus epilogue

toledot/content/launch/sys/Ioan/009.tex

@@ -1,13 +1,13 @@
 \hypertarget{ioan-bux103lan-2325}{%
 \chapter{Ioan Bălan — 2325}\label{ioan-bux103lan-2325}}
 
-If, Ioan thought, there was a version of Dear's sim---that sprawling, unending shortgrass prairie---that had existed to perfect trees instead of grass, it was this place.
+If, Ioan thought, there was a version of Dear's sim—that sprawling, unending shortgrass prairie—that had existed to perfect trees instead of grass, it was this place.
 
 May had told em that Serene had designed this sim, just as she had Dear's prairie. In that sense, it felt much the same; if Serene had any hallmarks of design, it seemed to be a focus on wind and weather, an unerring attention to plant life, and a fondness for the fractal textures of the ground. It was easy enough to design with right angles, flat planes, level ground. As building was something more akin to daydreaming, it was natural landscapes that were the hard ones to get the tiny details correct.
 
 It was no surprise that this sim had been designed for another Odist. Where Dear had fallen in love with the endless prairie and Michelle the flowing fields of dandelion dotted grass, Do I Know God After The End Waking had fallen in love with trees.
 
-When ey first arrived, ey had done so outside of a smallish A-frame building, more tent than anything, for it was built of rough-hewn planks set into the classical shape with an oiled canvas draped over it to create the walls. Even the floor was made of those rough planks, though much of it appeared to have been worn smooth after countless years of foot---or paw---traffic.
+When ey first arrived, ey had done so outside of a smallish A-frame building, more tent than anything, for it was built of rough-hewn planks set into the classical shape with an oiled canvas draped over it to create the walls. Even the floor was made of those rough planks, though much of it appeared to have been worn smooth after countless years of foot—or paw—traffic.
 
 Peeking inside revealed a simple cot made of more canvas stretched over a frame and a pillow of some sort of bundle, a battered roll-top desk with a low stool in front of it (Ioan found emself desperately wanting something similar upon seeing them), and a small wood-burning stove in the back where the far wall had been created using rammed earth instead of more canvas.
 
@@ -23,7 +23,7 @@ The skunk's arrival was something of a surprise, as what ey had initially taken
 
 Ioan stood and bowed politely. ``No problem. Exploring, though? I would've thought that you'd know the area around your home fairly well by now.''
 
-The skunk smiled. His features were undeniably those of an Odist---at least those of the skunk variety---while still being unique. They were more masculine in a way that ey could not place. More rugged. Dirtier. Certainly more exhausted. ``One never truly finishes exploring a forest. I was climbing the trees.''
+The skunk smiled. His features were undeniably those of an Odist—at least those of the skunk variety—while still being unique. They were more masculine in a way that ey could not place. More rugged. Dirtier. Certainly more exhausted. ``One never truly finishes exploring a forest. I was climbing the trees.''
 
 ``That sounds enjoyable, at least.''
 
@@ -133,7 +133,7 @@ The skunk winced. ``Yes, it came from me.''
 
 Ioan sighed and, seeing nowhere else to put it, set eir mug on the floor by the bed.
 
-``I feel compelled to repeat that I am not at all proud of what I did. This--'' He gestured around. ``This is my penance. I live my life in solitude in a place that does not know money, does not know the subtle machinations of politics, and should either of those enter, would not care one bit about them. People think of forests as fragile areas of land, and while this is true, they are also giant---truly enormous---singular entities that do not give a single, solitary fuck about you and your schemes, your thoughts, or your emotions. I have stumbled into ravines. I have had dead branches fall on me. I have gotten caught in land-slides, mud-slides, and flash-floods. I have learned the hard way which plants are safe to eat. I have bled on the land.'' There was a long pause before he continued, ``I hesitate to say that the forest hates me, but it comes perilously close. This is my penance.''
+``I feel compelled to repeat that I am not at all proud of what I did. This--'' He gestured around. ``This is my penance. I live my life in solitude in a place that does not know money, does not know the subtle machinations of politics, and should either of those enter, would not care one bit about them. People think of forests as fragile areas of land, and while this is true, they are also giant—truly enormous—singular entities that do not give a single, solitary fuck about you and your schemes, your thoughts, or your emotions. I have stumbled into ravines. I have had dead branches fall on me. I have gotten caught in land-slides, mud-slides, and flash-floods. I have learned the hard way which plants are safe to eat. I have bled on the land.'' There was a long pause before he continued, ``I hesitate to say that the forest hates me, but it comes perilously close. This is my penance.''
 
 They sat in silence for several long minutes while Ioan digested this and End Waking did whatever it was that the penitent architect of eir entire existence here on the System did. Repent, perhaps, but what did that mean in the face of such enormity?