She hadn't seen them in\ldots{} well, in years. And yet, here they were\ldots{} sitting on her couch. She swallowed, awkwardly, and took another step closer.

She was never really \emph{comfortable} around her own forks, even one as sufficiently\ldots{} What was the word again? Right, as sufficiently \emph{individuated} as this one. Hell, they lacked everything she considered \emph{herself}. The brown hair tied back in a scruff was gone, replaced with a shaggy mane shot through with a green streak. The ridiculous clothes, plated with bulky metal and accompanied by a cape.

Oh, and of course, the fact her fork had turned into a \emph{massive hulking wolf-person.}

She watched it as it sat on the couch, massive snouted head hanging low, the creature that used to be just like her in every way. They stared glumly down into a space somewhere on the floor. Deep brown fur, almost matching the tone of her skin, was gently ruffled by the breeze of a fan.

She took a deep breath. ``So\ldots{} um\ldots''

``I'm sorry.'' The creature's voice was a low rumble, its head raised up to look at her. ``I know\ldots{} especially with everything that's been going on regarding the attack\ldots{} it's hard to put up with an unexpected guest\ldots''

``Yeah. Well\ldots'' She shrugged. ``I mean\ldots{} It's good to catch up!''

``I just\ldots'' The wolf swallowed. ``I need to be around people. And you're the only person I know outside of\ldots''

She nodded as her up-tree's sentence tapered off. ``The game.''

The single-page announcement lay on the arm of the couch, where her fork had left it.

\begin{quote}
\begin{center}
\textbf{Forbidden Sector to Close For the Foreseeable Future}
\end{center}

Hey all. Devteam here.

No doubt by now you've heard the news; a significant number of our fellow uploaded instances here on Lagrange have permanently crashed from a large-scale terrorist attack inflicted on system architecture. In the wake of the ongoing crisis, we have seen fit to shut down the sim for the foreseeable future.

All instances will be removed from the sim. Do not worry; your character data will be safe. We are cooperating with systechs and the Council to address what damage, if any, has been done to the game and the toll of those within. A memorial will be constructed in the Sky Palazzo at New Terra, in remembrance of those who are now gone.

The game will reopen soon enough. Until then\ldots{}

Stay safe. Keep each other close.

\emph{— Forbidden Sector Dev Team}

\begin{quote}
What Gifts We Give, We Give In Death (Ode Clade)

Simon ``Clank'' Knight (Tarot Clade)

Caela Argent (Tarot Clade)
\end{quote}
\end{quote}

Sadie had first played it\ldots{} oh, back in the 2320s. Close to a century ago, shortly after she'd uploaded. It was the sort of space-action-adventure sandbox game every sci-fi nerd dreamed of. Not that she'd ever admit to being a sci-fi nerd, of course, but there was a time when Sadie played it obsessively for a month, and decided to waste no more time on it after one character she played met a spectacularly \emph{explosive} end.

As a condolence to herself, she created a \emph{single} fork, the only one she would ever create, and told it to have fun while it played, and return once its character had died.

And, clearly, it had lived and died as many characters, each time returning to the game without merging down. Each death, it rolled a new one.

Until it became whoever it was in front of her. A\ldots{} the name of the species sat on the tip of her tongue.

\emph{Loup-Garou!}

The Loup-Garou were fictional, and absolutely nothing like the species of Artemis encountered a near-century after their creation. Instead, they were a species of anthropomorphic wolves, A concept Sadie found more than a little embarrassing and frankly ridiculous.

Given that all three of \emph{Forbidden Sector}'s designers had been furries, it was only natural that there would be a species of strong, muscular wolf-people.

So of \emph{course} the fork of herself she left there would evolve into\ldots{} into \emph{this}. She'd try different techniques for each character, moving to a different strategy or build if the last one failed. Eventually she landed on one character that would survive, after failure after failure, and for some reason that just \emph{had} to be the shaggy-haired wolf person.

And now that wolf person she'd become was sitting here. In her house.

She turned back to her bowl of cereal, took a bite, then swallowed. ``So\ldots{} Not that your company is unappreciated, but\ldots''

``I'll be out of your hair soon enough.'' The fork rubbed its eyes. ``Just\ldots{} need a few days.''

``Good. Good. I'm\ldots{} I'm glad.'' Watching the wolf person's head turn away, she realized that her phrasing was probably not the kindest.

``I was just\ldots{} well, apologizing for not really having enough accommodations for you.'' She scooped up more cereal, gulping it down.

``Mm. It's fine. I lived in a \emph{spaceship}.'' The wolf chuckled. ``Leg room is kind of at a premium there, y'know?''

``You had a ship of your own? Wouldn't that mean you'd have\ldots'' She feebly thumbed through her memory to try and find the exact game parlance, before giving up and settling on what came immediately to mind; ``A\ldots{} a guild? Why not try rooming with them, I'm sure you'd prefer it over--''

The whine that escaped the wolf's lips, (\emph{her} lips?) sent a shiver down her spine. Watching her fork's ears fold back was like a cold knife in her chest.

``Crew's gone, Sadie.'' The wolf shook her head. ``All of them.''

``All of them?'' Sadie blinked.

``Vax and the Scrap-Breaker were both taken by CPV. Aska crashed from grief and Charles merged back down with his Root. It's me and Miller left. And Miller\ldots{} won't answer my calls.''

``Oh. Oh jeez, I--''

``I'll move out by next week, I just\ldots'' The wolf sniffled. ``I just need to be around somebody right now. I know I'm not the most\ldots{} familiar person to you, despite--''

``I understand.'' Sadie laid her bowl of cereal down in the sink, immediately rushing over to comfort her alternate self. ``Seriously. I do.''

As she sat beside the her-that-wasn't-herself, she idly reached over to scratch the ears of their massive lupine form. The wolf shrugged, nuzzling into the gesture. It at once surprised her, and yet made total sense; with enough perisystem manipulation, you could emulate the senses of anything. Even an alien species, with senses of taste, smell, \emph{instinct}, radically different from that of a human.

Even a Loup-Garou from \emph{Forbidden Sector}.

And of course, next to her was a version of herself that had embraced that, while she'd rejected it. And of course, even through individuation she could still see the little threads of herself in the wolf. Her fork's dark brown fur was the exact tone of her skin, she still bounced her leg when bored, and she still tapped her index finger against her thumb when she was stressed.

All this time, she'd thought of the game as a waste of time, something that her fork would tire of eventually. Little did she know that this fork had been forming connections and making friends, just as she herself had, and that those fragile connections were just as easily severed as hers.

And now, at the turning of the century, after a terrorist attack that had taken the lives of so many\ldots{}

Her fork was here.

She was still alive.

``I'm sorry.'' She leaned over, gripping the wolf. ``I\ldots{} I've made a total mess of things. I never even thought to ask if you changed your name.''

The wolf blinked. ``Oh. Oh drek, I'm sorry. I'd completely forgotten you don't know me.'' She squeezed her eyes shut in laughter. ``I\ldots{} back in the game, I'd become somewhat infamous. Pirate Queen, you know. Everyone knew me.'' She thrust out a paw. ``Mistress Lissa, at your service.''

``Sadie\ldots{} I mean, you knew that\ldots'' She sighed. ``Sorry, it's hard getting used to--''

``I know.'' The wolf chuckled awkwardly. ``It's awkward for me, too.''

She stared into Lissa's eyes. Her own eyes. ``I really should have sent you a sensorium ping or\ldots{} or something. I\ldots{} I'm sorry for never checking up on you.''

Lissa shrugged. ``Hey. That cuts both ways. I guess I was scared that you'd see \emph{this} and think\ldots{} Well, I dunno.''

``I'm\ldots{} I'm just so glad you're still here. I wish we could have met—\emph{properly} met—in different circumstances.''

Lissa wrapped a paw around her Root Instance, tugging her closer. ``We're here now. No point in looking back, right? We've got each other, no matter what happens.''

And so they sat, wolf and human, fork and root instance, together.
