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\chapter{Ioan Bălan — 2326}\label{ioan-bux103lan-2326}}

Ioan was still sitting at the table, ruminating, when May returned from her errand. Something that she saw in eir face made her wilt, and when she walked, she almost slunk, skirting the edge of the room, walking silently as though to keep from waking em up, or as though she was bearing some unknowable guilt. When she sat on the stool that True Name had been using, she looked small, closed in on herself. Not just smaller than True Name, though she was also that, but diminished from her usual self.

She did not speak.

Finally, Ioan capped eir pen, set it atop eir notes, and pushed them off to the side of the table. Ey folded eir arms on the tabletop and rested eir forehead on them. ``I'm tired, May.''

The skunk still did not speak. Did not even move, to the point where Ioan questioned whether she might be holding her breath.

Ey lifted eir head again, saying. ``I'm tired and I'm upset and I don't know what to do.''

She nodded. ``I expected you would be. I am sorry, Io--''

``What did you do?'' ey said, cutting her off. ``What was your role in all of this?''

May flinched back as though slapped. ``Ioan, I do not--''

``May, I just need to know.''

She stayed silent, and after a minute, ey sighed.

``We talked about this early on, about how you thought that I'd get upset, and that you were worried that I'd get upset at you.''

She nodded, silent still.

``And I am. I'm upset and tired and\ldots I don't know. Sad? Numb? Something like that. I can't promise that I won't be upset at you, and I really don't want this to go into either of our projects, but please, May, I need to know.''

``For the sake of completion?''

Ey nodded. ``For that, sure, but also for the sake of me, or us.''

``It is nothing terribly dramatic, taken on its own,'' she admitted. ``Though I knew that you would not learn about it until after you learned about everything else and in context, I\ldots well. That was my worry.'' There was a long pause before she asked, ``Do you know what each of the stanzas did?''

``No, I don't think so. Or, maybe I know a few, but if it helps, you can tell me about the rest.''

``Alright,'' she said. ``The ones I think you know are Praiseworthy, who loosely focused on propaganda and shaping sentiment; Qoheleth, who focused on shaping history; and True Name, who focused on political manipulation. Hammered Silver was written off by those three, because she was all that was motherly in Michelle. She wanted to take care of her, and, after a while, they were too cynical to think it worthwhile. I think I understand her stanza better than my own.

``I Am At A Loss For Images In This End Of Days focused on observing. Initially, this was borne out of watching and critiquing performances, but quickly grew to spying. Some of her stanza doubtless watches us still.

``Oh, But To Whom Do I Speak These Words kept an eye on religions. Her stanza focused on both phys- and sys-side religions as areas of interest. She has returned to the Judaism of our grandparents. We have not had much to talk about through the years.

``Among Those Who Create Are Those Who Forge started out by watching creatives here on the System, perhaps unsurprisingly, but grew bored and wandered off to do their own thing.

``Time Is A Finger Pointed At Itself helped both Praiseworthy and Qoheleth as a speech writer, though she was more into theatre than whatever work they gave her. I must take you to one of her shows.

``If I Am To Bathe In Dreams acted as the grounding element for much of the clade. She became something of a therapist. I have leaned on her often.

``May One Day Death Itself Not Die forked off all ten instances as soon as she could and then refused to fork again. I think she was left with much of that disconnect from reality that Michelle felt.''

``Why are you telling me this, May?'' ey asked.

``Because I need you to understand that the first lines each wound up with a bit of Michelle, yes, but from there, their forks were all riffs on that theme. You have doubtless figured that out by now. I told you early on that True Name forked me off to feel. She wanted to ensure that she also had a way to sway individuals, sys-side, as others focused on large groups.

``So she forked to create me, and then we discussed how best to accomplish that, and through the various mutation algos, I softened my appearance to be cuter and rounder, softened my voice, learned how to smile more earnestly, and did all the things I could think of to make myself as appealing as possible, whether as human or skunk.''

Ey frowned. ``That doesn't sound like feeling.''

``That is because True Name did this on a whim, in the most True Name way possible, and I do not think she expected me to be anything but as manipulative as her. She wanted another True Name for a different purpose. In order to influence someone on a truly individual level, though, you must be able to understand them, and I began to work towards that. I did not tell her at first. I changed myself physically, and then as I went out into the System to learn how to manipulate individuals, I kept on forking and changing whenever I found myself coming to a new conclusion. In short, I guess I grew a sense of empathy.''

``Why didn't you tell her?''

May smiled cautiously. ``Did she seem like the kind of person who puts stock in feelings?''

Ey shook eir head.

``Right. Well, it is not so difficult to imagine that, after a while, she began to notice that I kept getting much closer to those that I was supposed to engage with than was strictly required. I was supposed to watch them, influence them, shift their attention. I was supposed to use the System to my full advantage to get them to do what I---what we---wanted.''

``You were supposed to get them to grow dandelions.''

The skunk brightened and nodded. ``Yes. The System is more subtle than we give it credit for. Our subconscious can affect it as much as our conscious minds, so I would hint and murmur and insinuate and make myself a part of their dreams, and then use that to get them to do things of their own volition. There is nothing magic about it. It is simply years in theatre followed by centuries of perfecting the art of social interaction.''

``That's pretty damn manipulative,'' ey said.

What brightness had reached her face faded again. ``It was. I was a hell of a tool before I grew my own conscience.''

``So, you started to feel bad?''

``I started to \emph{feel}, Ioan. Bad, yes, but I started to feel. True Name does not do much of that. I started to feel, and when I started to feel love, affection, friendship\ldots well, those felt good, so I'd fork again to cement those more firmly in place.''

``But you still manipulated those around you.''

``I\ldots yes,'' she said. Her ears were all but laid back flat against her skull.

``For how long?''

``I am technically still supposed to be doing that, but--'' She quickly held up a paw. ``--I only lasted about about a decade as a tool for manipulation before I began to feel too much. I became too hard for her to control directly. She could not tell me, ``Go influence that man'' or whatever. The only way she knew to control me was to point me toward who she wanted influenced, set me loose, and hope that I did the right thing on accident, because all I would do is become best friends or lovers or trusted confidants. I could not in good conscience take an idea from True Name and make the person do what she wanted, because I actually had a conscience. It was almost a trauma response, in the end. I fawned because that was how I felt safest.''

Ioan felt the tension in eir shoulders, neck, and back. Felt the way ey was holding emself tightly wound. ``And me? Did she point you towards me?''

The skunk shrank further. She looked as though if she could curl into a ball, shrink to nothing, and disappear, she would. She looked miserable.

``May?''

She stayed silent.

``May, please.''

``Yes, she did.''

``So that you could steer me?''

``Yes.''

``So that you could, what, make me like you? Become my lover or trusted confidant?''

There were no words from the skunk. She just sat, shoulders shaking.

Ioan let out a breath, realizing partway through that it was coming out as a laugh. ``That's really fucked up, May.''

``Ioan, let me tell you a story.'' She was crying silently now, looking down at her paws. ``In the beginning, the gods created the world. They built it up, atom by atom, molecule by molecule. They used eyes like lasers to guide one after another into ordered formations, ranks upon ranks, and then set them to marching. The gods built the world and then they smiled at it from up above. They looked down on their creation and saw all of the possibilities of perfection that it held, of the unending life and endless bliss.''

Her words were unsteady, clouded by tears, but she continued, ``The gods built the world because they desired to shape it to their will. They wanted to bend the world into something that they could direct this way and that, because after all, could they not do that with their atoms and molecules? A world that is orderly! Imagine the wonders they could create! The wills they could work!

``So the gods set the world to spinning and watched and waited as it began to blossom and bloom. When the time was ripe, they reached down their hands to touch the world, and instead found that they had become the wind and the tides and the rain and the snow and the sunlight and the moonlight. They reached down to touch the world and shape it to their will, and found that they had become impersonal forces in the face of absolute independence. The world they created could not be controlled, because there is no such thing as a world that can be controlled. They reached down, became impersonal forces, and the lives within the world bundled their coats up tighter at the north wind or took their hats off when the sun shone bright, but never could they change a single mind.''

A long silence followed May's myth, broken only by the soft sounds of her crying.

Ey thought about these gods, these impersonal forces trying to work their wills on the world. Were they True Name and Jonas? Were they the System engineers? Were they those cynical politicians who had created the lost, had created Michelle and True Name and May and Dear in the first place?

Did it even matter?

This is who they were. This is where they wound up. Impersonal forces do not negate personal decisions.

Ey sighed.

``I believe you,'' ey said, reaching a hand out across the table, palm up.

``You believe me what?'' she mumbled, still sniffling.

``I believe that you grew a sense of empathy and a conscience. I believe you couldn't manipulate a hair off my head unless you thought I would live a happier, more fulfilling life without it.''

The skunk laughed through the tears, a choked and stifled sound. She finally reached out and set one of her paws in Ioan's hand. ``Even then, I would feel bad.''

``I believe that, too,'' ey said, brushing a thumb over her fingers. ``I believe that you're genuine, is what I'm trying to say. You just happened to have the craziest fucking family I've ever met.''

At this, May laughed in earnest, rolling her eyes and taking a deep breath to calm down. ``Yes, you are right. I am sorry that they are upsetting people, and that I am a part of that, that I did what I do and that you were their goal. The last thing that I want to do is hurt you.''

Ioan nodded. ``I believe you. It's fucked up, but that's on them.''

They sat for a while longer, hand in paw across the table, while she calmed down and ey thought. Ey was already pulling together the threads of the story that would become eir history, bit by bit, letter by letter, interview by interview, conversation by conversation.

``May?'' ey asked, struck by a memory.

``Mm?''

``Are we together? I mean, are we a couple?''

The skunk sat up straighter, giving em a funny look, then burst into a fit of giggles. ``Ioan Bălan, that is the dumbest fucking question you have asked throughout this entire project.''

Ey blinked, nonplussed.

``What do you think?'' She smiled pityingly at em. ``Are we?''

``That's a weirdly complicated question after the conversation we just had,'' ey said.

``We just came to the conclusion that you believed me.''

``I do!'' Ey frowned. ``I mean, of course I do.''

``So answer the question.''

``I\ldots yes?''

``Is \emph{that} a question?''

Ey shook eir head. ``I guess not.''

``I told Douglas that I would wait for you to bring up the topic, and that when you did, I would make fun of you for a solid hour,'' she said, grinning. ``But you look like your head is about to explode, so I will save that for another day. You get stuck up in there so easily, my dear.''

``Really? Douglas is the one that got me thinking about asking in the first place.''

The skunk stood up from her stool, drawing Ioan out of eir seat by the hand she still held. ``Because of course he did. Leave it to a Hadje to play two sides off each other.''

Ey laughed, drew her into a hug, and kissed the top of her snout.

After May had cleaned up, as they sat on the bench swing, looking out over the dandelion-speckled yard, Ioan mused. ``You know, I was thinking something.''

``Color me surprised.''

Ey chose to let the comment pass. ``Dear kept talking about irreversibility at its death day party.''

``It was declaiming,'' May murmured. ``It has a way of doing that.''

``No kidding.'' Ey reached a hand up to ruffle it over May's ears. ``But I guess this is irreversible, too, isn't it?''

``What, you finally figuring out that we have been in a relationship for like two years?''

``Kind of.''

May elbowed em in the side. ``You are kidding, right?''

``Ow! No, seriously,'' ey said, rubbing at eir side. ``Codrin forked to work on the Qoheleth project, \emph{then} got in a relationship with Dear.''

A spark of comprehension lit up May's eyes and she grinned wide. ``But you did not.''

``No.'' Ey shrugged. ``I was the Bălan who didn't wind up in a relationship with Dear, because that was my up-tree instance's experience. I can't go back and fork before we met or started working together or dating.''

She laughed and shook her head, draping herself across eir lap, resting her head on folded arms. ``You are stuck with me, Mx. Bălan. Pet my tail, please.''

Ey did as ordered, brushing fingers through thick fur as ey thought. The fox had been right, ey supposed. There was at least some beauty in the irreversible.

One more one-way act floated to the surface in eir mind. ``Does Michelle's sim still exist, by the way? I've heard so much about it by now.''

May frowned. ``Yes. Why?''

``Well, we're coming up on the one-year anniversary of Launch, right? Maybe we can do a picnic there, think about where this all started, get blitzed on champagne. Bit of a memorial, you know?''

She laughed. ``You know, why the fuck not. It has been years since I have visited. We can make muffins and compare the smell with the dandelions.''

Ey grinned, nodded, and made a mental note to ensure that Douglas remembered the suggestion ey'd given almost a year back, that he'd be ready to upload in time.
