Publish read online

content/_index.md

@@ -1,7 +1,9 @@
 ![Banner](/front.png)
 <p class="buy">
-<a href="https://makyo.itch.io/marsh" target="_blank">Pre-order ebook</a>
+<a href="https://makyo.itch.io/marsh" target="_blank">Order ebook</a>
 <a href="https://makyo-ink.square.site/product/marsh/18" target="_blank">Pre-order paperback</a>
+<a href="/read">Read in the browser</a>
+<a href="/stories">Read "Stories From After"</a>
 </p>
 
 -----
@@ -18,12 +20,6 @@ Includes stories by Samantha Yule Fireheart, Michael Miele, Caela Argent, André
 
 -----
 
-*Marsh* is a new project by Madison Rye Progress set within the [Post-Self](https://post-self.ink) universe. It was successfully funded by a Kickstarter! Feel free to read about that process [here](/kickstarter).
-
-***Coming Spring 2025*** but you can read a snippet [here](/preview)!
-
------
-
 ### About the author
 
 <img alt="Print by Forrest Gerke" src="https://makyo.ink/assets/img/headshot.png" class="invertable" />

content/read/001.md

@@ -8,7 +8,7 @@ I laughed and bumped my shoulder against Hanne's. "A sales pitch?"
 
 "You're a nerd. You realize that, right?"
 
-"Tell me why I should be a nerd in the year 275. Next year we can decide on systime 276.“
+"Tell me why I should be a nerd in the year 275. Next year we can decide on systime 276."
 
 I scuffed my heel against the pavement of the street. New Year's Eve, and everyone was still inside. Bars: full. Restaurants: packed. There were a few scattered couples or groups around, but they were all walking with purpose. Champagne called. Canapes. Crudités.
 

content/read/002.md

@@ -15,7 +15,7 @@
 
 ## Reed — 2399
 
-Champagne tinted evenings faded, as they do, into brandy-colored nights. Amber nights and fireplaces for the hell of it, me and Hanne settling in for a little bit of warmth for that last hour, not quite decadence and a ways off from opulence, but still a plush couch and a fire and snifters slightly too full of liquor.
+Champagne tinted evenings faded, as they do, into brandy-colored nights. Amber nights and fireplaces for the hell of it, me and Hanne settling in for a little bit of warmth for that last hour, not quite decadence and a ways off from opulence, but still a plush couch and a fire and snifters slightly too full of liquor. We tucked ourselves in under a whole-house cone of silence, one tuned to block incoming sensorium messages so that our New Year's Eve was ours alone.
 
 We shared our warmth, sitting side by side on the couch, and we continued to talk, talking of the year past, of years past beyond that, and of however many we decided were ahead. A hundred years? Two hundred? Only five? I made an impassioned argument for five more years of life, then laughed, changed my mind, and said I'd never die. Hanne said she'd live for precisely two hundred, give up, and disappear from Lagrange. She'd fork at a century and never speak to that version of her again, and should that instance decide to live on past two centuries, so be it, but she'd decided her expiration.
 
@@ -160,7 +160,7 @@ She rolled her eyes. "Tell <span id="distortion1">Marsh </span><span id="distort
 	</defs>
 </svg>
 
-<div style="height: 2000vh"></div>
+<div style="height: 75vh"></div>
 
 ## Reed — 2401
 
@@ -252,7 +252,7 @@ I frowned, pinged Hanne.
 
 "What?" she said, her frown deepening.
 
-"Hold on, one more sec." I nodded to my new fork, who quit; I declined the merge. This would just have to be a year where I kept the memories. Something was wrong. I could work it out with my up-trees later.
+"Hold on, one more sec." I nodded to my new fork, who quit; I declined the merge. This would just have to be a year where I kept the memories. I wanted to keep the feeling of being unable to merge down, to know it viscerally. Something was wrong. I could work it out with my up-trees later.
 
 00:02.
 

content/read/004.md

@@ -500,7 +500,7 @@ Dry Grass tilted her head thoughtfully. "None of my forks have reported any succ
 
 She nodded. "Several of us are working on that, yes, and from across the stanzas."
 
-One of the gathered, From Whence Do I Call Out, began to pray. "*Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, dayan ha-emet.*"
+One of the gathered, From Whence Do I Call Out, began to pray. "*Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam, dayan ha'emet.*"
 
 Dry Grass lowered her head as several of the other Odists joined. After a moment, she forked and gathered the Marshans around her, setting up a cone of silence above us.
 

content/read/010-1.md

@@ -6,28 +6,12 @@ There were a few more meetings with phys-side, usually with just Günay, but som
 
 Although phys-side remained in control of a few aspects, they had quickly ceded the rest to us once more, including ungating communications between Lagrange and Earth.
 
-<!--SNIP: Move to 016, search 'hollowness' --- except probably a little bit later since that is still in the meeting
-This included ungating all communication between Lagrange and both of the LVs, leading to a flood of messages from friends and long-diverged cocladists. Reed#Castor had sent me several panicked messages, as had the rest of the clade.
-
-This notably included Marsh, both on Castor and Pollux.
-
-There followed a rather tense meeting with all of the Marshans remaining on Lagrange, as well as Vos and Pierre. Confronted with the fact that two versions of Marsh lived on, inaccessible, we all fell into a tailspin, each in our own way.
-
-Pierre and Vos were left in tears, quite understandably. The force with which the simple message hit them doubtless left a reminder that their shared partner was now gone, and yet still existed beyond reach.
-
-Lily remained stoic, Cress sobbed, and Rush stayed silent, while Tule, Sedge, and I all had similar reactions. We were confused. We were unable to handle our emotions, much less put a finger on them. How could we? We were unmoored, here on Lagrange, and yet it was a plain fact that such was not the case some four light-months away. We could message them, we could send them a summary of how we felt, but what good would that do? What would it gain us to send tearful messages to them when we wouldn't hear back for more than eight months?
-
-The three of us agreed that we'd hold off until we knew more, both about the situation and our reactions.
--->
-
 None of us knew anyone phys-side. We didn't have the luxury of communications separated by just over two seconds as opposed to the eight-month round trip to the LVs. We didn't have AVEC to help us out at all. All of our friends had either uploaded or died without having done so, and none of our family cared enough to talk to their grandson with however many 'greats' preceded that relationship.
-<!-- Search for LVs/Castor/Pollux to see if those have been explained. -->
 
 Hanne, however was in yet a different situation. While her parents had long since died, her siblings had not, though by now they were quite old. Their communications were tearful reconnections, hasty requests for information on just what the fuck had happened.
 
 As for that particular question, we had the chance to learn quite a bit more.
 
-<!--AWK EXPAND-->
 The process of restarting Lagrange included a new wrinkle: every time they restarted, more and more instances seemed to be unrecoverable. Even with the help that the LVs had provided in drastically reducing the number of corrupted instances, each time the System was brought up, the number of truly lost instances seemed to increase. There was a core of about twenty billion that remained unrecoverable no matter what, but the number climbed by tens or hundreds of millions with each restart, with different instances among the remainder, raising fears about future downtime and driving phys-side ideas regarding robustness and splitting the System hardware into separate physical components.
 
 Dry Grass had been particularly affected by this. Her up-tree, In The Wind, seemed to have been instrumental in helping return functionality, and yet had not manged to make it through the last three restarts.
@@ -37,7 +21,6 @@ On hearing this news, she disappeared for nearly twelve hours, all of her instan
 She and I also started spending more time together, with the next two lunches being just the two of us together. While I had memories of learning all about her through Tule, she was keen on learning about me in turn. She wanted to know what my take was on why Marsh had uploaded, explaining that both Cress and Tule had differing thoughts on the matter. She wanted to know why it was that I had slipped back into that transmasculine identity. She wanted to know how it was that Hanne and I had found each other, had fallen in love.
 
 I mostly wanted to know — though I never asked — how it was that I — that part of me from before the merge — was falling so rapidly for her in turn. I turned that question over and over in my head, leaning on it for comfort whenever thoughts of Marsh  struggled to overwhelm me.
-<!--/AWK EXPAND-->
 
 When at last the group of representative clades met up again, we were joined by yet another Odist, I Cannot Stop Myself From Speaking, a bobcat furry who moved silently on soft-padded paws, whose voice was quiet and yet demanding of attention.
 
@@ -57,8 +40,6 @@ Answers Will Not Help scoffed.
 
 "So be it."
 
-<!--Expand on books for newbies-->
-
 "We have spoken with the quarantined instance of the attacker several times," Jakub said, picking up the conversation smoothly. "They remain alive in this instance of the restart, although in previous restarts, they quit immediately on realizing that the bomb failed to detonate."
 
 "Why do they remain alive this iteration?"
@@ -150,5 +131,3 @@ Dry Grass frowned. "Are you sure that that is wise? Does the entirety of Lagrang
 "So," I said after the conversation drifted into silence. "What do we do now?"
 
 "Mourn," Dry Grass said. "Work and mourn."
-
------

content/read/018.md

@@ -0,0 +1,32 @@
+## Stories From After
+
+Nine stories set in the days, weeks, and years following the Century Attack, written by those within the Post-Self community.
+
+---
+
+["Game Night": <small>Joanna — 2401</small>](/stories/game-night)
+:   *Michael Miele*
+
+["Home From the Game": <small>Sadie Amara — 2401</small>](/stories/home-from-the-game)
+:   *Caela Argent*
+
+["The Party at the End of the World": <small>Scout at The Party V — 2401</small>](/stories/the-party-at-the-end-of-the-world)
+:   *Krzysztof “Tomash” Drewniak*
+
+["A Well-Trained Eye": <small>Lucia Marchetti — 2401</small>](/stories/a-well-trained-eye)
+:   *Andréa C Mason*
+
+["Toward Eternity": <small>Aurélien Delacroix — 2401</small>](/stories/toward-eternity)
+:   *Thomas “Faux” Steele*
+
+["Prophecies": <small>Slow Hours — 2401</small>](/stories/prophecies)
+:   *Madison Rye Progress, with contributions from Samantha Yule Fireheart*
+
+["Journal of Diago Pereira": <small>Henrique Pereira — 2400–2401</small>](/stories/journal-of-diago-pereira)
+:   *Nat Mcardle-Mott-Merrifield and Sarah Bloden*
+
+["Millwright": <small>Andréa C Mason#Millwright — 2401</small>](/stories/millwright)
+:   *Andréa C Mason*
+
+["Sentences": <small>In all Ways — 2405–2406</small>](/stories/sentences)
+:   *Krzysztof “Tomash” Drewniak*

content/stories/_index.md

@@ -0,0 +1,35 @@
+---
+title: Stories From After
+layout: single
+---
+
+Nine stories set in the days, weeks, and years following the Century Attack, written by those within the Post-Self community.
+
+---
+
+["Game Night": <small>Joanna — 2401</small>](/stories/game-night)
+:   *Michael Miele*
+
+["Home From the Game": <small>Sadie Amara — 2401</small>](/stories/home-from-the-game)
+:   *Caela Argent*
+
+["The Party at the End of the World": <small>Scout at The Party V — 2401</small>](/stories/the-party-at-the-end-of-the-world)
+:   *Krzysztof “Tomash” Drewniak*
+
+["A Well-Trained Eye": <small>Lucia Marchetti — 2401</small>](/stories/a-well-trained-eye)
+:   *Andréa C Mason*
+
+["Toward Eternity": <small>Aurélien Delacroix — 2401</small>](/stories/toward-eternity)
+:   *Thomas “Faux” Steele*
+
+["Prophecies": <small>Slow Hours — 2401</small>](/stories/prophecies)
+:   *Madison Rye Progress, with contributions from Samantha Yule Fireheart*
+
+["Journal of Diago Pereira": <small>Henrique Pereira — 2400–2401</small>](/stories/journal-of-diago-pereira)
+:   *Nat Mcardle-Mott-Merrifield and Sarah Bloden*
+
+["Millwright": <small>Andréa C Mason#Millwright — 2401</small>](/stories/millwright)
+:   *Andréa C Mason*
+
+["Sentences": <small>In all Ways — 2405–2406</small>](/stories/sentences)
+:   *Krzysztof “Tomash” Drewniak*

content/stories/a-well-trained-eye.md

@@ -1,3 +1,10 @@
+---
+type: story
+title: A Well-Trained Eye
+author: Andréa C Mason
+character: Lucia Marchetti — 2401
+---
+
 The rain against old glass panes and the sways and bumps of the car on the rails ready the air for conjurations. Lucy sits on the bench 6th from the back, on the right side, a sketchbook open across her knees. Today she's trying charcoal. Feels right with what happened a week ago.
 
 This lonely train through the valley and the mountain is her chapel and now her hermitage in the wake of the bombing. There are plenty of churches and other religious retreats across the System if she wanted, but none of them have ever felt a fit for this work. She thought about skipping this week, and told herself if the train wasn't running, she'd pick up again later, but even with no passengers save her, the engine pulls its empty tail along the countryside. So, as she has done every week for the past 250 years, she has gone to her locker in the station, pulled out a fresh sketchbook, and boarded.
@@ -240,7 +247,7 @@ Lucia finally finds the other end of the thread. "Do you own this sim?"
 
 The smile fades from the skunk's face. "As of a week ago, yes."
 
-"Was it the Century At---"
+"Was it the Century At--"
 
 "Mr. Nguyen had been planning to retire for some time. He'd given full access controls and permissions of the Sim to me a few months back, and after 275 years, he planned to retire at midnight, right as the century rolled over." The furred woman bit her lip and looked away. "I...I don't know if he died in the Attack. The way he was cleaning up his affairs by the end he might have quit the big one. Either way, he's gone."
 

content/stories/game-night.md

@@ -1,3 +1,10 @@
+---
+type: story
+title: Game Night
+author: Michael Miele
+character: Joanna — 2401
+---
+
 Joanna sat at her kitchen table, having the hardest time figuring out the next best move to make while playing solitaire. The cards were jumbo print, of course, a leftover from her time phys-side. She was just about to move a column of cards using a king when she heard her doorbell. She could have created her sim so the default entrance was within her home, but she was old-fashioned. She liked having her guests wait a bit while she got around to answer the door. There was something to be said for indulging anticipation, especially on the System, where so many things were instantaneous. She swiped a wrinkled hand over the in-progress game and the cards fluttered away, stored in an exo-cortex to pick up later. She got up slowly and puttered her way over to the front door.
 
 Arranging this get-together was a welcome distraction for her. When she received the confirmation message, she had trouble thinking of much else. Though she hadn't met her visitor yet, Joanna knew what she looked like. She looked out of the peephole to check it was her visitor before undoing the lock and opening up the door.

content/stories/home-from-the-game.md

@@ -1,3 +1,10 @@
+---
+type: story
+title: Home From the Game
+author: Caela Argent
+character: Sadie Amara — 2401
+---
+
 She hadn't seen them in... well, in years. And yet, here they were... sitting on her couch. She swallowed, awkwardly, and took another step closer.
 
 She was never really *comfortable* around her own forks, even one as sufficiently... What was the word again? Right, as sufficiently *individuated* as this one. Hell, they lacked everything she considered *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.
@@ -18,9 +25,7 @@ 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.
 
-> ::: center
 > **Forbidden Sector to Close For the Foreseeable Future**
-> :::
 >
 > Hey all. Devteam here.
 >

content/stories/journal-of-diago-pereira.md

@@ -0,0 +1,356 @@
+---
+type: story
+title: Journal of Diago Pereira
+author: Nat Mcardle-Mott-Merrifield and Sarah Bloden
+character: Henrique Pereira — 2400–2401
+---
+
+<style>
+.smallcaps {
+    font-variant: small-caps;
+}
+</style>
+
+<p style="text-align: center; text-indent: none; font-size: 80%"><em>Note:</em> This story utilizes different fonts to represent different members of a plural system.</p>
+
+**May 12th, 2400**
+
+The door is pressed open and the lights are turned on with a soft click, below wooden planks bemoan the shuffling feat of Henrique and his slippers, his old jeans loose and baggy, the knitted sweater he wears worn like his brittle bones. He walks with his cane, tapping on the floor as he finds his seat, guided by his great Granddaughter Isa, who guides him with steady, thoughtfully slow, footing.
+
+"Take a seat Grand Papi... it will... it will all, uhm..." she mutters the words, "be okay" aimlessly, then lets a minute of quiet drift between the two of them, sounds of weeping heard from the floor below. She had only recently entered her teens, how could such innocence possibly understand such loss, the ramifications of the news not yet settled in for youthful Isa, yet the reality sank soundly onto the soul of elderly Henrique. The meandering minute passes, and Isa looks back up, eyes filled with concern for her great Grandfather's wellbeing. "Ah, Grand Papi, would you like me to get you your coffee mug? A blanket? Anything to give you comfort...?"
+
+Finally, he begins to sit down on his leather recliner, waving his aged hand dismissively, wrinkled and frail. His dower face, aged like the cracked leather he put his weight onto and pock marked with freckles from years in the sun, bunches together as he grimaces, not at the offer but towards the state of the world, the state of his family, the state of the System, and perhaps his aching body as well.
+
+Gently, slowly, deliberately he lowers himself and rests into the seat, his reading seat, the seat he got from his aunt as part of her will, a skilled tanner---skill that shined through the weathered cushions that strained to hold his retired body. So weak, so old---the days of power and youth having left him, drained from him by the decades. He looks up, and lets out a tired, weary sigh, then shakes his head.
+
+"I... I just need to sit down, my dear. Sit down... Just... sit down. To think... in quiet. Please, Isa my dear, leave me be for now. Go, tend to your Mami, she needs your comfort."
+
+He stares back down at his lap, grunting and listening to the door creak closed as Isa leaves, allowing lingering thoughts to swell in might and misery. Flashes of denial sting as Henrique's depressed thoughts flow freely, he attempts to come to terms with the news again, just as another baleful shriek fills the air, a cry, a plea heard by none who deserved it.
+
+Descendants deleted and ancestors now long gone. His Granddaughter weeps at the knowledge her handful of children and acres of ancestry were now lost, taken from her just as his brother was through the same act of terrorism.
+
+Terrorism. What a foul concept that was so filled with angry grays, blacks, and whites. Months, months the System was down and its dire truths suppressed, until finally reaching the 'net in a slow torrent of terrible news, chaotic questions, corroborating with bitter claims, the collectivists caused harm on a cataclysmic scale, like some malevolent maelstrom, a maverick ridden by the reapers' wrath.
+
+He looks at his hands, fingers clenched and unclenching, shaking. Tempering anger soothes his emotions with contempt to those responsible, as tears get lost in the saddened crow's-feet lining his tired face. His watery eyes look to the left, noticing the spine of a lithe book tucked within the drawer of his side table, a familiar thing that rested with a fine, blue-feathered, ink quill strapped to its outside.
+
+He sighs somberly, shakily, and reaches for the journal that once belonged to his late and lost. A Journal of Diago Pereira, his brother---or siblings, as he would later come to learn in his youth, and love years after his younger brother uploaded with his once hidden plurality in tow.
+
+The next few moments were a blanket of misery, misery that mastered the old mans' mind, and moved him to lift the old literature to his lap. Tears gradually overwhelming, he wipes them off and opens the book to the first page, a familiar feeling now underwhelming compared to the weight of tragedy on his shoulders:
+
+> *12th of March 2304*
+>
+> Today is my 17th birthday and as a gift my Grand mami got me this journal to practice my english writing in. My teacher told me my writing is pretty good since he started teaching me but needs work and my mami thought it would be a good idea to give me a book to practice in. He said I should focus on my punctuation mostly as I seem to forget to include that in my writing sometimes. He also said my spelling could do a little bit of work so I'll try and focus on that.
+>
+> Today was so fun after school, I took my bike home and my cousins, sisters and a few of our friends from the next farm over were waiting for me! I even saw aunt Corita, she managed to get the day off from the Ansible clinic, I hardly ever get to see her. We had a quick game in the backyard field , I think my sisters took it easy on me, there usually way more dexterous then I am! *<span class="smallcaps">(Eles fizeram isso, eu já vi eles chutarem você, mas no futebol! Haha.)</span>* I can still play pretty good Fel!
+>
+> Anyway, after a few goals, my mami called us in for dinner! It was Fels and my favorite, homemade Acarajé and Picanha, and for dessert Grand mami made me a vanilla cake with blue icing!
+>
+> After we ate, my mami and Grand mami gave me my gifts, this journal and a letter from my brother that wished he could be there. He also sent me printed photos of him and his army buddies at the BrAr Line. They smile, but the scenery is so grim and barren. My aunt tells me it was once farmland, and now it's just mud and metal fences.
+>
+> Even if this was given to me to improve my English writing, I really enjoyed writing about my day! And I didn't expect it to be. But I am tired and don't have much else to say, the cake was yummy! I always love Grand mami's cakes.
+
+In the margin, "Property of Diago Pereira" can be read, along with the thumb smearing of blue icing dye that has since stained the once fresh paper, now freshly stained by stray tears. Henrique smiles, sniffling softly as the wrinkles on his face rise, his thumb and forefinger slides the pages to a random entry, a familiar sensation of such delicate paper dancing between his fingertips---wrinkled, marked, and lightly stained pages of faded graphite and century old ink---dates dotting the upper left. He moves his hand across the paper, reading the crude handwriting of early script, a pastime he took part in on a monthly basis, now a catharsis, a means to mourn.
+
+He flips through the pages more, methodically moving fingers before finding one to finally read through in full:
+
+> *17th of June 2304*
+>
+> Dear Journal, I got home today after my english classes, and Mami and my sisters told me Henrique had sent a letter from the BrAr Line. It talked about how he saw a Hyacinth Macaw making a nest on one of the watchtowers at the Briar. *<span class="smallcaps">(SORTUDO! Eu gostaria que pudéssemos ver mais a linha do briar. Parece tão interessante.)</span>* It really doesn't Fel.
+>
+> He wrote in the letter that he was ordered to chase the bird off because it was making a nest, but even with him and his buddies' best efforts it stayed. I'm proud of it! This story got a laugh out of everyone, and to my surprise mom showed me a feather that came with the letter, it was bright blue! Further down, my brother said that while he was trying to get the bird to leave, he managed to collect a few feathers from its nest and thought I'd like to have one. <span class="smallcaps">*(Henrique é um irmão tão legal. Espero que você possa me apresentar a ele em breve.)*</span> I do too, Fel.
+>
+> Both Fel and I are so excited to have received it, the Hyacinth Macaw is believed to be an extinct species. To know one still lives makes us so happy! I can't wait to show this in class tomorrow, I know Mr. Rocha loves to watch birds as much as I do.
+>
+> Speaking of Mr. Rocha! I asked him if I could borrow his binoculars after class today. I've been wanting to go visit my spot with them and see what birds have been nesting near there. He agreed with the exception that, "You better let me come with you, I'm not about to miss out on a bird watching expedition, let alone give my binoculars away without supervision!" I know he meant well by that, but I couldn't help but feel a little nervous. Mr. Rocha is a good teacher, though. Friends of my eldest cousin, who was taught by him when she was younger!
+>
+> After looking at the letter and feathers, my sisters and I did our chores around the farmstead with the farm hands. Just as I was finishing, my sisters came up to me and told me they saw a flock of white birds that were nesting in one of our Latex Trees, I could only guess what they must've been at the time, but I wouldn't have guessed they're White-Necked Hawks! They were all nested there and warding danger away from the nest. They looked so majestic! I can't wait to watch their eggs hatch, such a beautiful species of bird!
+
+One of his favorite entries, and a reminder of a brighter day at the Briar line, one not so filled with dull gray and scorched earth. He frowns, hesitates, then hastily lifts the journal from his lap, finding the ink quill resting in the nook of his arm rest and right leg. He carefully raises it up, pondering---not recalling---how he so quickly removed it from the strap on the journal, carefully preening the blue feather adorned to the end of the writing utensil.
+
+His hand works the fine fibers of the feather, tracing it down to the firmness of the pen nib, pointed, certain, precise. He lazily drags that same fingers as before across another section of pages, coarse papers scraping assuredly as he stumbles into another two entries, both rather lengthy:
+
+> *24th of July 2304*
+>
+> Dear Journal, today I write away from home. I told Mami I was going to spend the night over at Gregors home, to which she was wary to acknowledge me doing so. She made sure I had my tablet with me, and that I had lunch packed as well. I appreciate her concern but sometimes it feels almost too much. Before I left, Mami also made sure I had offered my chores to one of my sisters, which I had, telling her Iara agreed to do my tasks today so I could spend the night away from home. I'll just end up doing twice of hers on the weekend.
+>
+> Since I plan to spend the night over at the high rises, I left early this morning. I hadn't been to see Gregor in a few months and was curious about what was new.
+>
+> Fel and I hitched a ride on a truck, and on the way Fel was discussing with me if I had also felt the new identity that was forming. Fel and I still don't know where she came from, but we feel that she has a similar origin to Fel, herself. Hopefully we'll find out from this newcomer. *<span class="smallcaps">(Estou muito animado para ver se podemos aprender alguma coisa com esse novo companheiro plural, Diago. Você realmente deveria explorar mais a 'Net sobre a pluralidade.)</span>*
+>
+> Fel, you know I would if I had the time to do so! I'm just always too busy. Anyway, we've been writing this at the 'cave' now, and it looks like it is probably two in the afternoon, and we've had our lunch too, feeling ready to go! Also, the tide is starting to fill up this old garage so I better get packing or I won't be able to take the boat out at all. Thankfully, the weather is peaceful with hurricanes Gabriel and Taylor having traveled down south this time of year. Still, the ocean waves are choppy so I won't be able to spend any time writing in the rowboat. Next entry will be written once we've made landfall, at the high rises. I'm hopeful Gregor will be available today!
+
+Henriques smiles, recalling how adventurous youthful Diago was, he flips the page, his fingers feeling the pages curl, curious eyes reading the lines that are revealed.
+
+> *25th of July 2304*
+>
+> Dear Journal, Fel and I made it to Gregors' home without any issue, and are writing this entry at the top of the high rises! *<span class="smallcaps">(É tão bonito! Se não fossem as nuvens de Gabriel, você poderia ver todas as estrelas do céu!)</span>* While the waves did rock the rowboat, it wasn't at all a challenge to find harbor at the old high rises. We were met by Marcia, who helped us anchor the boat to the third floor balcony-pier, and we caught up with one another! She asked how my mami and Grandmami were, how my sisters were, how the farm was doing, then offered me lunch which I politely declined. *<span class="smallcaps">(Ela fez Vatapá!! O Vatapá da Márcia! É sempre tão delicioso! Como você poderia deixar passar uma tigela fresquinha de Vatapá da Márcia, Diago!! Ah!)</span>* I'm sorry Fel, but I wasn't hungry then! Quit thinking about your stomach so much.
+>
+> Anyway, after our talk, Marcia led us to where Gregor was, he was busy doing his own chores and tending to the seventh floor gardens. I always enjoy walking up to this floor, the view is amazing, though often windy without any wall. As soon as he saw me we hugged! It'd been too long, and like his mother, we talked about how things had been in the last few months, his community, my family, the hazards of the weather and the hazards of piracy along the coast, their fishing farms, our latex farms-- *<span class="smallcaps">(Na verdade, ele mencionou como conseguiram pescar atum hoje! E íamos tomar um pote Grande de Moqueca de Camarão! O que foi TÃO DELICIOSO!)</span>* Oh yeah! We've never had real Tuna before, only ever that fake processed stuff. So when Gregor offered to have us present for their dinner we were more than happy to accept, we even told them we intended to stay the night, which he and Marcia were happy to oblige.
+>
+> We spent the remainder of our afternoon playing Go. He's always been better at it, and we don't have a board at home to practice. Regardless, it was a lot of fun! And I did manage to win a game in the end.
+>
+> Now, Fel and I sit on the roof and gaze across the stars. It is truly gorgeous... and I think we can spot the System too, orbiting overhead. Honestly it's crazy to think some of my Grandparents are there now. I hope they look at us and bless us with a good harvest, surely the tuna Gregor's family caught was one. *<span class="smallcaps">(Você acha que algum dia chegaremos lá, Diago?)</span>* I don't know Fel! It would be cool, though I bet.
+>
+> Sigh. I do not wish to be conscripted. I do not wish to tend the fields of burnt earth that my brother does. I wish he didn't either. *<span class="smallcaps">(É tão estúpido! Por que fomos para a guerra de novo? O que a Argentina fez com o Brasil? Por que seu irmão teve que ir! Por que NÓS temos que ir! Ah!)</span>* I can't recall Fel, I wish Mami hadden gotten us into those history classes. Anyway, it smells like dinners done.
+
+His anger, simmering now, grows sour with grief renewed. Why, why must they have done this? A society of people, free from the strifes of this withering world, peaceful and calm and claiming new lives... Taken, made lost for some bitter pointless stance. Had the universe not taken enough from him, from his family, from his people? Was it fate, destiny, that others would bring agony to the Pereira family and so many, many more on this hellish earth? Surely, he had done enough, harbored the forgotten sins of his nation for long enough, the punishments that his father endured and reflected onto him, for long enough? Surely, this was enough, should have been enough, to avoid this tragedy?
+
+To have lost so much more, to know generations of elders and cousins and sons and daughters were now gone. Now longer of the heavens but beyond, if there was such a thing. Henrique didn't have the slightest clue, and he doubted there was anything after. They were gone, his brother was gone. It was as simple as that, a weeding fact he began to harbor and nourish.
+
+He observes the fine details on the pen in this bitter moment of contemplation, Henrique's fingers flipping the pages with unplanned, instinctual precision, eyes unwittingly landing on the next entry:
+
+> *23rd of September 2304*
+>
+> Dear Journal, class wasn't too special. My teacher commented that my punctuation has been remaining consistent but that I should try to expand my vocabulary and gave me a thesaurus. It's full of English words and very heavy! So I'll probably read it when I get home.
+>
+> But! FINALLY after months of planning, Mr. Rocha and I left to go birdwatching. He was very busy marking the exams of all the classes he taught, but he was able to schedule some time with me this week! We have been planning to visit a spot along the interior, within the marshes and prairies of província cinzenta. I told him it was nothing special, just a place I try to visit when I have enough allowance to take the bus that far. *<span class="smallcaps">(Agradeça aos antepassados que o Sr. Rocha possui um caminhão! Eu odeio pegar carona em ônibus. Ou está super lotado ou temos que sentar no telhado...)</span> Yeah, it was quite far, and his truck was quite comfy. Though honestly, I was just excited we got to see somewhere new that's not just your house or farm.* Yeah! You sounded like you enjoyed it as much as we did, huh Davi? **(Yeah! The views were beautiful. If a bit haunting. You still need to take me to Gregor's one of these days, I'm sure he'd be happy to have you visit him again.)** *<span class="smallcaps">(Oh sim! As vistas da casa dele são INCRÍVEIS! Além disso, a comida da sua mãe é TÃO deliciosa!)</span>*
+>
+> I will, I will! Anyways, as should be obvious, getting there wasn't too difficult, and we parked along the eastern edge of the Amazona Basin. From there I led the way down some dirt trails, and showed Mr. Rocha a family of nursing trees that had begun to sprout new life. **(It was very pretty! There were at least five different burnt up trunks that had fallen over, and were all sprouting entirely different trees from them!)** Yeah! And in the trees, we saw many birds flying in and out, they looked like brownish twistwings, we also heard peeping! The sound filled me with such joy, and Mr. Rocha remarked how wonderful it was to see nature adapt and heal in spite of all the destruction caused by 'A Grande Fumaça', so many years ago.
+>
+> The comment had Davi curious, and so I asked him how 'A Grande Fumaça' even started, **(Thanks again. I wasn't sure how Mr Rocha would take you being plural, otherwise I would have asked myself.)** <span class="smallcaps">*(Sr. Rocha arrasa! Tenho certeza de que ele teria ido às alturas para ouvir sobre nós!)*</span> Eh... I'm in agreement with Davi. I'd rather just keep this between us three.
+>
+> Anyways, I'm glad I asked because I learned things I never recalled being taught besides the really nasty terrorists and stuff. Anyway, when he was done I asked why people would do such things, it was kinda absent minded of me to ask, but when I did Mr. Rocha had this moment of contemplation before he told me that "Some very angry people simply choose to resort to fan the hate and anger in their hearts, in order to make an impact on the world. In their case, they wanted many people to see the perils we suffer, like some twisted bonfire, and these people believed that by burning down the Amazon it would call the world into action." I told him that didn't make any sense, and he agreed, "Anger drives many men to do senseless things, but this is why it is important to keep a level head at all times, and to control that flame, turn it towards a warm hearth that nurtures and improves the quality of all. Not tear it down and destroy it."
+>
+> After our conversation, we went and had lunch. *<span class="smallcaps">(Foi Empadão caseiro! Devo dizer que o Sr. Rocha é um excelente cozinheiro!)</span>* He is! And he made extras, so we got to take some home with us to share. Today was honestly the best.
+
+Yet, despite the uplifting ending and relative cheerfulness of the entry, such aspects go unread and unappreciated as Henriques eyes stay fixed on the penultimate paragraph. His breath quickens to nigh hyperventilation with quicker clouds fogging Henrique's brief-bright thoughts with foul ashen clouds.
+
+A Grande Fumaça, another crazed disaster, dealt by the collective cells of Brazil. The terrorists' insanity deemed that the only path to salvation was more mindless destruction. To alter and to tarnish the Grand jungles of South America with thermite fueled flames.
+
+Such scornful actions created lasting consequences. The Steel Acquisitions Act, fueling the cinders for the pyre that would become the Brazilian Civil War, followed by the unsatisfied bloodlust that lead to the annexation of Paraguay and the eventual invasion of eastern Argentina.
+
+Anger flares once more, the scalding inferno of nearly a century ago igniting hot and glowing fury in the old mans beating heart. He throws the pen in anger, then gasps, smelling acrid burning. He looks about the room, the lights a brilliant yellow. Torches of flame around him. He gets up, he needs fresh air...
+
+He rises, his right hand numb, crumbles under the weight and he begins to fall to the floor. His left hand, clenched into a fist, slams to his inflamed chest, leaving him sobbing, weeping, falling. With a loud thump against the hardwood floor, he cries and whines. Why, why did they have to take his brother? Why did they have to kill so many bright souls, to accomplish what? To state what?
+
+"W-why... W-whhyy... whhyyy..."
+
+He mutters through a limp tongue, half numb lips. He was shot, he realizes, he believes, time slowed like a putrid muck as the sudden taste of something sickening and metallic crosses his tongue. His heart hurts, agonizing, a flame. He struggles to breathe, and wonders why, why, why was he sent to the front line. Why was he chosen to be shot, an innocent at the whims of a corrupt government.
+
+He looks up, watching the members of the Argentinian resistance raid the Briar Line. Guns alight, loud, shouting, surrounding him, soon kicking him.
+
+*"Me perdoe! Me perdoe! Me perdoe! Me perdoe!"*
+
+He begs for forgiveness as memory fades, figures all around him, following him to his youth. Full of bullies, malevolent peers, punishing him, teasing him, childishly chastising him for the acts of his rebellious father. A man dedicated to the independence of Rio Grande Do Sul, a man who died fighting the civil war, and marred his family name with the title of-
+
+*"Traidor! Traidor! Traidores Imundos!"*
+
+-And he suffers the consequences. Crying, choking, dying, dimming... before Diago screams, chasing, sprinting, pushing away the bullies, the ne'er do well teenagers twice the siblings' age.
+
+No longer surrounded, Diago leans down, reaching his hand towards his elder brother. Henrique looks up, vision blurred from the blinding backlit visage of Diago, details smeared, yet comfortably cool and shaded in soft shadows.
+
+*"Ei, irmão mais velho!"*
+
+Henrique hears the cry of Diago calling out to him, before watching that youthful silhouette approach him, take a knee, and offer his hand down to his fallen self.
+
+*"Está tudo bem, você está seguro. Vamos, vamos para casa! Todo mundo está preocupado com você."*
+
+Henrique nods, sobbing, smiling, and reaches for Diagos hand, hearing the worry and concern in his brother's voice.
+
+*"Vamos para casa. Irmão mais novo..."*
+
+Then everything fades to black.
+
+Hours that felt like minutes go by, and with a groggy start, white light fills Henriques vision.
+
+The door to the examination room clicks open, Isa walking in, exhausted, her nurse outfit freshly donned with fresh concern still on her face, she kneels down, checking on her Grand Papi, healing instincts kicking in as she takes Henriques hand, watching his face twitch into wakefulness.
+
+"Oh, Grand Papi... shh, it's okay... You're safe, you had another little stroke. You're safe."
+
+Henrique simply nods, groaning, looking down at the white linen bed he found himself in. He inhales through clenched teeth, leaning back into his pillows and breaths out shakily, then looks to his left, smiling towards Isa, then further towards the bedside table, spotting the journal still at his side.
+
+Isa's fears quickly diminished as she saw him come too. Watching as his senses returned to him. It wasn't long before a doctor entered, clipboard in hand and hesitant smile showing.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Pereira. You had us all worried there, but, thankfully to your Granddaughters quick thinking you're looking to make a full recovery. She's a very excellent nurse, we're lucky to have her with us."
+
+Isa smiles, then glances over to the journal Henrique was just looking towards. She picks it up, handing it to him.
+
+"Grand Papi, we'll be moving you to another room for the remainder of your stay, but once we're there would you like me to stick around for a while? The hospital has given me permission to attend to you, and, well, I saw you reading Grand uncle Diago's journal. I was thinking I could read some of it to you?"
+
+Henrique nods with a wide smile reaching from ear to ear, stretching those years of well earned lines like the boughs and branches of a Bertholletia Excelsa.
+
+"Of course, my dear Isa. I'd love that so, very much."
+
+The minutes went by as medical accessories were untethered and unlatched from their anchoring, allowing Henriques' bed to be transported to his new room. Isa walked alongside while another nurse pushed, her fingers gently intertwined with her Grand papis' own.
+
+The new room was optimally lit and blandly furnished with whites, blues, and beige, presented in the most iconically hygienic ways a hospital could be. Isa finds a seat beside Henrique, a metal thing with dense padding cushions, unlike her grin which was soft and comforting; not at all dissimilar to her eyes, which began to look downward towards the journal that she split open in her hands. She carefully turned each page, finally landing on an entry that was written earlier into the books life:
+
+> *3rd of May 2304*
+>
+> Dear Journal, today I write after Fel and I have gone exploring! I did my chores this morning, stripping the bark from the trees mainly, then I went down to the coast and took the rowboat out from 'the cave'. Though I didn't visit Gregor, instead I took the boat further west, to visit some of the abandoned towns in that area. I brought some chicken sandwiches with me, as I planned to stay most the day there and take the last bus back.
+>
+> I know it's dangerous, but my curiosity just urges me to swim in those waters near the old ruined towns past the shore. Mami, cuz I know she'd be worried sick for me, doesn't know I do this, but I can't help but want to explore! It's like exploring a whole different world, well maybe not ENTIRELY different, but different enough to feel like it's a place I've never been too.
+>
+> I also go because Fel is always wanting to see the world... and she's always going on and on and on about leaving the house, leaving Brazil. Honestly I'm happy to oblige! I'm not too keen to live here for the rest of my life either.
+>
+> Anyways, once we took the rowboat far enough, we anchored up to what we guessed must have been an old apartment complex? We could access the third and fourth floors, but the rest was flooded. But despite this, I was able to dive down to the floors below with my light to guide us. I always make sure to wear one on my chest so I'm never diving in the dark. I've also been practicing my diving for quite a while now, and the longest I can hold my breath while swimming is a full minute and sixteen seconds!
+>
+> Diving down to the floor below, it was filled with seaweed and other water plants, also I found all sorts of cool things, old photo portraits, toys, a Rig! It was inhabited by some tropical fish, Tetra I think is what they're called? Very small and they glowed brightly when my light hit them! It was very pretty! *<span class="smallcaps">(Tenho quase certeza de que vi uma caixa de tesouro também! Era pequeno e brilhante! Mas provavelmente é melhor que não o tenhamos feito. Estava preso atrás de muitos móveis antigos.)</span>* Yeah, it wouldn't have been safe to try and dig that out.
+>
+> When I surfaced I had my meal-- *<span class="smallcaps">(Os sanduíches estavam MUITO deliciosos! Você Mami faz os melhores sanduíches.)</span>* Yeah, they really are super good. Anyways, afterwards we swam down the outside of the building and we were able to get much deeper, even with the surrounding kelp clinging to its walls. Turns out the apartment was built on top of a barber! At least I assume it was a barber as I saw the red and blue striped pole on the outside of it. I couldn't open the door, and the windows were boarded up to get some breath. Next we explored the upper floors above the water. The building was very slanted, so climbing the old stairs wasn't easy, and most of the apartment rooms had their front doors locked still. But the rooms I did open were very empty, however one had an old campfire in it! *<span class="smallcaps">( Claro que não somos os aventureiros que exploram as ruínas do Brasil!)</span>* I guess! Either that or someone else came here before and tried to live here. The walls were spray painted in beautiful and ugly murals, and one room was entirely coated in bird poop... it wasn't pretty but I did see the various nests that were using the old space as a new home!
+>
+> Once we were done exploring, we grabbed the rowboat and went back to shore. We just barely caught the bus we wanted, which was good since I was so tired. I got home and my family asked how my swim was, as I probably smelt like the sea.
+>
+> Now Fel and I rest in bed... it's funny, despite all that destruction caused by nature, seeing life still present and flourishing is nice. It gives our world color, and makes me happy.
+>
+> Anyways, I'm tired. That's all!
+
+Isa closes the book softly, clearing her throat after all that talking, and places it at her great Grand papi's side. Henrique looked up in response, a mild smile present on his thin lips.
+
+"Thank you, sweet Isa. You're the best Granddaughter an old man like me could ever ask for." He grins, then coughs softly, frowning at the sorry state his body was in. Isa reacts accordingly, leaning down to assist her great Grandfather, but he raises a hand- "It's fine, some water is all I need."
+
+Isa frowns, but goes to pour her father a cup, turning away to head to the plastic jug not more than a couple meters from his bedside table.
+
+She pours the cup, then pauses "...Grand papi, is..." She sighs, then turns back to pass him the cup. "Are you okay...?" A question that could be easily dismissed with a 'yes', a white lie to maintain this status quo he wished to uphold and quell any worry. Yet, Henrique knew better, hearing the way Isa asked, feeling the way those words carried soft care, the compassion in her voice curating how she phrased it, and quite simply from the way her eyes penetrated his own. The ache in his heart would not cease until he expressed his thoughts, and he knew this status quo should not be maintained.
+
+"...I... am not. No. The System, it is truly gone, yes?" He asks, expression grim. Isa pauses, having handed over the cup. Then shrugs and shakes her head. "The word on the 'net... Well, it is unclear. There's been claims that they're trying to recover it, some saying success, others saying failure... its..."
+
+Henrique nods, raising his hand once again. "It is an uncertain time, I... understand." I silence drops between the pair, long and thoughtful, as Henrique stares at himself through the reflection of the water, seeing the man who he once was and the youth before, so full of potential, that who couldn't be. An innocent child who had a brother, before being taken away from home to become the cog for some militaristic machine, and discarded, broken, at the end.
+
+"Why didn't you upload, Grand papi?" Henrique is drawn from his stupor, glancing up at Isa with a pained, confused expression that evolved to one of frustration, and finally mournful regret.
+
+"I... I was too anchored to my duties here... to many responsibilities, to many tasks that were expected of me..." he says, a weak truth, one that did not admit the full pains of his reasons. Reasons he did not care to admit because they scared him, filled him with anxiety, regret.
+
+Why didn't he upload? There was nothing to stop him, he had the opportunity, he was given the privilege after his service. In fact, it was expected of him by his country and family, for was a broken man, and a man with the buried soul of a child. Once his service was done, he was seen as useless by the aristocracy, and his family name denoted him a traitor by the people.
+
+So, why not simply allow himself to be discarded? Buried like that child who was taken away? Why, why did he put such effort into the farm, into making a family. Why did he feel the need to prove the worth of the Pereira name...
+
+Was it to prove they weren't traitors to brazil? To prove his life had meaning? To live a life after years of strife? To try and forget the pain of no longer being at his brother's side? Or to avoid that pain, to bury it too, like the child, like the hundred dead from a worthless civil war... The notion of seeing someone so different from how he would've remembered them. Of seeing a person who he loathed, despite all that love. To see someone who had the chance to be a child, who did not need to bury that precious, perfect part of life. Scared him, for the emotions they elicited.
+
+He scowls, emotions eating away at him... Isa frowned, leaning in.
+
+Diago was his friend, as any sibling should, but one who'd be a constant reminder of the time *he* lost, the time *he* should've had as well. Diago lived the life he lost, and he *hated* him for that.
+
+Yet.
+
+Henrique could not let that hate burn. Those flames would rather stoke fires of passion and thankfulness, that his brother's youth could stay at Diago's side. Even if he had that all taken away from him, he should be happy his brother managed to avoid it all through those careful weeks of planning, ultimately resulting in him being snuck out the month before his mandatory conscription. Years before he would return home.
+
+His fists balled up, and tears began to be shed. Why must he feel this pungent jealousy contradict his love, and why must this unfettered joy ruin the urge to swell with anger and selfish want. Not only this, but the half-void in his chest was lonely, forever imperfect because he never could say goodbye.
+
+His life, all his life, was hell, hell on earth. From his earliest days under the sun, to his first days at the Briar Line, to his last days working the farm, and undoubtedly to his final day on this god forsaken planet his deleted ancestors long ago abandoned.
+
+Yet his brother, the person he cherished so dearly, avoided that. It wasn't fair, but did that matter? He sacrificed everything, and his brother lived his life. And now he sat here, in a hospital bed, seething and seeing those reasons come to light. Showing him he never once was truly happy, never once truly satisfied, and never once given the chance to live, never once allowing himself to-
+
+Isa grabbed his hand, and gently kissed his forehead, shocking the elderly man out of his manic spiral. He sobs out a gasp, and looks to Isa with watery eyes and tear stricken cheeks. She smiled warmly with saddened eyes. She was no longer the innocent girl he saw in her today or days prior, now she was someone who somehow could peer into this old man's heart. Seeing his pain. Understanding his turmoil.
+
+"Grand papi... even if they do not return to the system, your ancestors look down on you with pride as they ascend to the heavens. Your brother... he missed you, I know it. He is thankful and I know for certain he wondered every day when he would see you."
+
+She gulps, thinking of what to say as her own mouth grew parched from this shared, emotional moment. "If... the System returns. Let go of these anchors you claim to have. And those regrets that tie you up. You do not need to utter them to me, Grand papi, but you cannot let what life you have left wither by."
+
+"And if it doesn't return, sweet Isa?" Henrique asks, voice raspy and scared.
+
+"Then... we will find those joys here. And move on, together. Wherever we can, however we can. And our ancestors will continue to look down on us, smiles on their faces, eager to see you live your life with happiness, and awaiting the day for you to join them once you have.
+
+Henrique sighs with a shaky breath, and lays his head on Isa's arm. Isa, in turn, lays on the bed, supporting her Great Grand papis head. Giving him the comfort he required.
+
+**March 1st, 2401**
+
+> *21st January 2305*
+>
+> Dear Journal-- or, dearest Henrique, who I hope will return home safely to receive my journal as my parting gift. Its with a heavy, but hopeful heart that I might escape the enforcement of our seven years service to our country. I will not get a chance to meet you at the front, let alone meet you upon your return. *<span class="smallcaps">(Mal posso esperar para finalmente conhecer você, Henrique. Diago pode estar incerto, mas estou extasiado por finalmente conhecê-lo depois de todos esses anos em que você foi forçado a nos deixar.)</span>*
+>
+> While Fel may be excited, she is not wrong that I am hesitant. **(I am as well, but I have faith in our future.)**
+>
+> I agree, Davi. By the time you'll have read this entry, you'd have learned that our auntie Corita and our Mami had been planning to secret me away so I would not be forced to participate in the conflict at the BrAr Line. I know it is not my place to say such, but I apologize that we did not tell you while you were still in service.
+>
+> While I may be leaving, Auntie Corita told Iara and Ana that when they turn 18, she'll do the same for them, and we'll all meet each other in the System one day. Which is a day I greatly look forward to.
+>
+> I miss you, brother. I miss the days we could have swam together, ate food together, and explored together. Yet this world we were born into chose to take that away from us. You were always so much braver than I was, and now here I am taking my first steps into a new world I can't ever come back from. *<span class="smallcaps">(Você é igualmente corajoso, Diago, e devemos estar entusiasmados! Esta é apenas mais uma aventura! E o Henrique vai se juntar a nós! Tenho certeza disso.)</span>*
+>
+> We eagerly look forward to the day we can see you, Henrique.
+>
+> Your little siblings, Diago, Fel, and Davi.
+
+As Henrique closes the leather book for the final time, he exhales, tucking the journal away into his satchel. The door opens and an Ansible technician arrives.
+
+She greets him with a nod, asks his name, and takes him down the hall. She confirms he answered all the questions on his questionnaire, and reassured him that this decision was final. Henrique simply nodded, acknowledging the questions with polite answers, stepping in time with the gentle tap of his cane. Each step feeling lighter than the last, like years of weight fell off his back, as if piles of ash or fettered leaves flowed free into the compost, ready to fertilize new growth, new life, new hope.
+
+The techs put him into the seat, the process seamless, precise, and he feels as if he was floating, a leaf gliding amongst the wind and beautiful breeze... and he closes his eyes.
+
+The sensation of stretching in blackness, like a series of strings strung taught and sewn back, was as unnerving as the visual of a slate gray box surrounding him. But this unease passes as he immediately sighs, eyes closing once more as the feeling of chronic pain and aged weariness was, thankfully, entirely gone. He exhales, the soreness of his shoulders, exposed to decades of hard labor, could finally relax. That foul weight, finally lifted.
+
+"Welcome to Lagrange, this room you find yourself in is called AetherBox#9182. Currently, I am facing away from you so you may have some privacy. Please, let me know when I may turn, unless you do not require any clothes. Simply want your desired apparel into being, and it will be there."
+
+Henrique's eyes open, wrinkled smile growing into a briefly confused frown as the individual who just spoke to him was some kind of furry. A species of creature he had not seen before, with a large black tail flanked by two defined white stripes. She wore a very old fashion tweed jacket, and a red plaid skirt that hung just below that.
+
+"Ah-- simply desire it, *Senhora...?*"
+
+"Indeed, take your time. It is not as if we have a schedule to maintain."
+
+There was a hint of irritation in that reply, and Henrique flushed red for a moment, embarrassed at being inconsiderate of this individual's time. He thinks for a moment, of his slippers, aged worker jeans, then his blue t-shirt and well worn wool sweater overtop. He looks down in pleasant surprise to see those very clothes on him... then he frowns, thinking... remembering memories of his younger days, before he met his beloved Annette, a button up white shirt, loose at the collar, straight and flowy at the hem, long too. Perfect for those especially hot summer days, then reimagined his worker pants... the day he first got them, how richly deep green they were, not how worn and damaged they were now, with discolored patches sewn on to cover up damaged holes. He recalled the well sewn fabric of thick, durable, comfortable material... and to his amusement found those exact clothes on him, in the same condition he miraculously remembered them as. He stepped forward, comfy slippers, now refurbished but still broken in, muffling his footsteps.
+
+"*Senhora...?* I am ready, you can turn around now."
+
+The black-and-white-striped furry turns on the spot, an exact motion, her rounded spectacles, housing slitted eyes that stared with a scrutinizing and dubious glare. She held a smile that felt tired, ungenuine, but not strictly forced... a smile that was rehearsed and used to mask some deeper-seated emotions, simply present to appear approachable.
+
+"Again, welcome to Lagrange Mr. Pereira. It is my job to inform you of the basic mechanics that are present within the System. Your clothing was the first part of this exercise, next, we will go over forking. Please follow my lead."
+
+While he had no idea what to expect upon uploading, he wasn't expecting such a hasty introduction... or at least one that felt so precise and mechanical.
+
+"Pardon, *Senhora,* but may I ask if you are real?... Also, to slow down. I understand your time is valuable but this is feeling all a little overwhelming to me. Perhaps you could offer me your name? And you may refer to me as Henrique, please."
+
+The furry's smile falters, before a hand raises up as she grasps her temples between two fingers. "My apologies, Henrique." She bows apologetically, curt and quick however, to keep this implied schedule on track.
+
+"It has been... quite hectic recently, I assure you I am very much 'real' and not some digital construct you'd otherwise be familiar with on the 'net, if that was what you were implying. I suppose I have been feeling a little thin as a result of recent events. You may call me Then I Must In All Ways Be Earnest of the Ode Clade. In All Ways for short."
+
+Henrique grunts and smiles. "Quite a name, In All Ways, but I do not judge. Now what is this about forking?"
+
+She nods, then raises a hand to her side before an exact duplicate of her appears in an instant, mirroring her pose and demeanor. "Forking, as we of the System have coined it, is the ability to replicate yourself. It is important to know that this fork is not just a construct, a program, or a template-"
+
+The other In All Ways speaks. "But a whole person. With their own desires, hopes, and dreams that are parallel or differ from your own. Those who dive into this practice wholeheartedly are known as dispersionistas, which make up the vast majority of the population here... while others who are more free with individuation are known as trackers, while not always as liberal with their forking, they still form the other sizable chunk of the Systems population. Lastly we have those who simply fork to complete tasks or short term objectives, and prefer not to individuate. They are aptly known as Taskers, and fill up the last chunk of the System.
+
+Despite her best efforts, the slip up was clear in her speech. That pause allowed for the pang of unmistakable pain, anger, frustration, sadness, and grief, to give way to a convoluted series of expressions shared between the two In All Ways, both suffering these emotions in divergent ways. Some trauma surging forth and causing the twin furries to ripple briefly.
+
+Henrique frowns, a hand raised to place upon or embrace In All Ways, before pulling back. "Ah... pardon I should ask before offering comfort. I understand the pain too well, In All Ways."
+
+"Do you?!..." Both reply with a snap. The leftmost one maintains a spiteful glare, before vanishing as the original recoils and looks to the floor shamefully. Henrique all the while, continues to stand there with his hand out. Gradually, he lowers it and reaches for one of In All Ways paws, getting her attention. He gives an understanding smile, unphased by the furry's tumultuous emotions barely held at bay.
+
+"I... can, yes. Perhaps not exactly as you do, In All Ways. But I can. I know the pain of losing someone. Someone close, someone you care for. And I give my sincerest condolences to those who you have lost. You are with common company, and you do not need to apologize, *Senhora.*"
+
+"I am... I... Mm... Thank you." In All Ways mumbles, ceasing her seeking of that instinctual apology, the urge to explain, and glances up, tears just beginning to stain her cheeks, before she forks them away. She remains silent and nods, exhales, then breaths in, composing herself, and returns her gaze to the elderly man. His face, a gentle network of lines forming an understanding, compassionate smile.
+
+"I would ask that you fork, Henrique. So that you are familiar with the process. Remember, do so with intent. Simply think it, and it will be."
+
+"Think it, and it will be. Hm." Henrique mutters, his eyes, then head turning. Thoughts of clades, of trees, of the farm, of the family, of Diago, flash by and before him stood... him. But not as he is, rather, as he was. Him as he was a little under a century ago. Maybe 17 years of age, wearing the same shirt, now smaller. Similar pants, now cut short at the knee. And those slippers, now sized to fit. His hair that thick, unkempt brown and tied back. Eyes green and innocent. Heavily pigmented skin from days in the sun, with a slight tone in his muscles as well. Contrasting firmly to his current wrinkles, leather like skin, and hundreds of sun spots.
+
+In All Ways stared at the pair, her eyes, tired still, no longer viewed either with suspicion or trepidation but with... hope. A hint of a smile creeping along her exhausted face, her shoulders untensed and fists unclenched.
+
+"Good. It's important you understand how to fork, as it is a vital part of the System's mechanics. May we continue?"
+
+Both Henriques look at one another, smiling in their own ways. The elders face wet with joy, years of regret resolved. The youths face beaming, and tearful as well. Excited for a future they never had.
+
+The moment is peaceful, interrupted only by an embrace of the two Henriques, enhanced from this tranquility and relief. Then, there was one. As the elder Henrique accepted the merger and quit.
+
+As In All Ways watches this happen, she walks up to the youth, standing at attention but with expressive hesitation in her face. "Actually, before we move onto the last step. I have a question I must ask. It is entirely optional, and purely to sate my own curiosity, so you need not answer if it does not suit you too."
+
+Henrique looks to In All Ways, nearly at the same height now, and nods. Juvenile voice adjusting to what the world weary mind could recall. "Of course, ask away In All Ways."
+
+She sighs, smile diminishing slightly. "Why did you choose to upload, now? Of all times. You... went through a tumultuous time, from what I read of your reports. And most of your immediate family uploaded centuries before you did. Why not then? And now... after the events that have transpired. Are you not afraid of what will happen next? Of the future?"
+
+The beaming, childish expression of Henrique dims to one of contemplation, though that smile does not vanish in its entirety. "I was overcome with grief, frustration, and jealousy, when I returned from the front. And allowed those emotions to drive me into a life I did not want, convincing me that it was my responsibility. After all, seven years commanding men and women on burnt earth leaves one with that lingering urge to take the reins, not out of a want, but out of what is expected of them to keep them safe."
+
+He sighs, slippered foot kicking at nothing in particular on the slate gray floor. "That expectation, those vile emotions, blinded me from what I really wanted. Masked the realization of why I was doing this to myself. I missed my brother, and I never got to say goodbye. Never got to see them one last time, never got to meet their headmates, more siblings for me to cherish. And for... what, a little over a hundred years? I couldn't come to terms with this. Not until I thought he was gone for good. Not until I had realized I truly lost my chance at a better life. And now? I'm happy, truely, absolutely happy. I can live how I wish, experience the things I never got too, and most importantly meet my brother and siblings. I was old, anyways, so if it were to all end now I can at least pass on with this seed of joy and hope within me."
+
+In All Ways smile returns in full, her hand resting on Henriques shoulder. "Thank you for indulging me, Henrique. And I can assure you, we will see that seed blossom into something beautiful. Now, onto the final aspects of this training. My next step is to teach you how to navigate the System. Similar to forking, you must think with intent, in this case, of the location by its signifier. This is sometimes referred to as stepping into a sim."
+
+Henrique nods, stepping back, before cocking his head. "But, In All Ways. I have just gotten here, where exactly do you expect me to go?... wait." His smile broadens and reveals his pearly teeth. "M-may I step into the sim of my brother? Is that possible?"
+
+In All Ways nods, "I just sent a sensorium ping to... a down-tree of the 'Macaw' clade, they refer to themselves as Diago Hyacinth, so you are aware. They'll be awaiting your arrival. I'm sending you the name and tag of the Sim now.
+
+Henrique shivers, feeling the sudden arrival of information that wasn't there mere moments ago. Excitement brimming.
+
+"And one last thing, Henrique. What is your clade name? If you do not have something in mind for me to register now, I will simply reach out to you later." She steps back, signifying the finality of this meeting.
+
+Henrique answers almost immediately. "Pereira Clade, please. Goodbye *Senhora* In All Ways. Thank you." and steps from the sim. He's met by a familiar sight, the backyard of his family home where he grew up, however instead of flat field with upturned dirt and rusting soccer goals, with a single floor shack of a house behind him, there was a plethora of budding flowers, green shrubbery, trees, and the serene sounds of chirping birds and gentle winds filling the air.
+
+*"Olá, irmão mais velho!"*
+
+*"Olá!"*
+
+"Is... Is it really you?"
+
+Henrique turns as he hears those three similar, familiar voices calling out to him. Now, as he looks upon the source of those voices, he stares up to see a towering, adult, anthropomorphized chimeric individual who wore the heads of a panther, a bull, and a python, on his widened torso, all staring at him with utmost glee. The trio step forward, those familiar green eyes impossible to confuse for anyone else's."
+
+"*Sim, querido Diago*. It is me, Henrique, your big brother. Its really, truly, me."
+
+The two surrender to their withheld urges, and rush to meet one another in tearful, joyful, brotherly fashion. An embrace sought after for generations, centuries, years that tried to dry and wither a snuffed and suffocating desire, a desire now rekindled and set ablaze into a blossoming, hopeful, beautiful sight to behold amidst this blooming garden. A single blue feather drifts down, as a macaw flies free with its flock in tow.

content/stories/millwright.md

@@ -1,3 +1,10 @@
+---
+type: story
+title: Millwright
+author: Andréa C Mason
+character: Andréa C Mason#Millwright — 2401
+---
+
 I need a break.
 
 Even before uploading, I was the face. The spokesperson. The rep. The primary fronter in a plural system of at least nine. The fursona everyone knew, the friend, the organizer, the closeted kid who burst out of the closet a social butterfly. It worked, then. Whether I wanted it or not, I was good at it, when we could manage our mental health.

content/stories/prophecies.md

@@ -1,3 +1,10 @@
+---
+type: story
+title: Prophecies
+author: Madison Rye Progress, with contributions from Samantha Yule Fireheart
+character: Slow Hours — 2401
+---
+
 To step into The Bean Cycle was to be immediately assailed by sound. There was, as to be expected, the clink of glasses and muted howl of steam wands bringing milk up to temperature, but mixed in was the clatter and clicking of work being done on bicycles. Wheels were spun, chain was dragged through derailleurs, tires were changed. Milk was steamed, espresso was made, names were hollered out.
 
 It was not the type of din that Slow Hours expected for the one she and If I Dream were looking for. It was too uneven, this wall of sound. Too unpredictable. The steam wands were too piercing and the occasional clang of a wrench or raucous laughter over some story of a crash too jarring.

content/stories/sentences.md

@@ -1,3 +1,10 @@
+---
+type: story
+title: Sentences
+author: Krzysztof “Tomash” Drewniak
+character: In All Ways — 2405–2406
+---
+
 "So, what's the surprise delay this time?" Günay joked, despite the serious topic of the meeting that would be starting soon. She, like some of the sys-side delegates and the cameraperson, had arrived early. Her conference room, along with its AVEC-linked partner on the System, had become the main venue for high-level Century Attack-related meetings out of an inertia that froze into tradition.
 
 "A comma," Dry Grass replied. "I expect it will reach its final position by the end of the century."
@@ -6,17 +13,17 @@
 
 "I have heard similar here," Dry Grass said. "On the matter of delays, have you decided when you will upload?"
 
-"Reawakening Day two-eighty-\...something. The next one. I want to be sure there's nothing else I can do down here. ... And I got talked into picking a symbolic date by ---"
+"Restoration Day two-eighty-...something. The next one. I want to be sure there's nothing else I can do down here. ... And I got talked into picking a symbolic date by--"
 
-Need An Answer, who had suggested that upload date, appeared in the room just then. She had swapped in for Answers Will Not Help when this group had branched off from the Temporary Administrative Council, as they had both agreed she was better suited to it. The rest of the representatives and the invited audience joined her a moment later.
+Need An Answer, who had suggested that upload date, appeared in the room just then. She had stayed involved when this group branched off from the Temporary Administrative Council. The rest of the representatives and the invited audience joined her a moment later.
 
-"--- oh, looks like it's time."
+"--oh, looks like it's time."
 
 The cladists took their seats while Jakub walked into his conference room, bringing along a few System Consortium higher-ups and politicians who wanted to witness history. He looked less frazzled than he had years ago since the set of tasks that could be shoehorned into "project-managing the recovery effort" had shrunk to a reasonable size.
 
 Those involved in the Attack who had remained phys-side had been convicted years ago. There was no question about their guilt. They had proudly admitted their crimes and used their trials to broadcast their manifestos and grievances, which their governments had previously suppressed in the hopes of covering up the whole affair.
 
-The phys-side authorities had then requested that the System recommend a punishment, seeking to calm the controversy about that question that had erupted on Earth. The System had, eventually, answered, in its meandering distributed way. Now, all that remained was the alchemy of turning something everyone knew (unless they had made an effort to avoid System-wide news) into the statement of a government that did not exist and was quite firm about not wanting to.
+Phys-side authorities had then requested that the System recommend a punishment, seeking to calm the controversy about that question that had erupted on Earth. The System had, eventually, answered, in its meandering distributed way. Now, all that remained was the alchemy of turning something everyone knew (unless they had made an effort to avoid System-wide news) into the statement of a government that did not exist and was quite firm about not wanting to.
 
 "We have transmitted the evident consensus of the System as to what sentence ought to be imposed upon those convicted of conspiring to destroy us," Need An Answer pronounced. "Does the System Consortium have any concerns regarding the accuracy of our report?"
 
@@ -44,11 +51,11 @@ Aditya Singh, one of the people who kept an eye on the Deep Space Network sys-si
 
 "Absolutely not!" Dry Grass exclaimed. "That is antithetical to the purpose of the System!"
 
-"And give them the easy way out?" Egil demanded, overlapping Dry Grass. "Not to mention, ---"
+"And give them the easy way out?" Egil demanded, overlapping Dry Grass. "Not to mention,--"
 
 "No." Need An Answer said firmly as soon as she sensed an opening in the brewing argument. "Enough. We are not here to relitigate the question." The room went quiet. She took the signature page from Aditya and added her mark, a swirl of words that she had spent more time crafting than she would want to admit. "It is finished."
 
-She gathered up the report and fed it into the mail slot that had been added to the room for today. In the phys-side conference room, the pages worked their way out of a printer.^[^1]^
+She gathered up the report and fed it into the mail slot that had been added to the room for today. In the phys-side conference room, the pages worked their way out of a printer.[^1]
 
 Günay gathered up the sheets and flipped through them to check for obvious errors. She set the last page on the table, took the pen, and scribbled something by her name. "Looks like it all came though just fine."
 
@@ -58,7 +65,7 @@ Günay gathered up the sheets and flipped through them to check for obvious erro
 
 "Watch the politicians take a whole decade to make a call," Günay said. "Just to let the System feel the tension for once while they 'reach consensus'."
 
-Dry Grass decided to take the sarcasm seriously. "Although it would delay our meeting, should your people discuss the matter until consensus, I would applaud their due care."
+Dry Grass decided to take the sarcasm seriously. "Although it would delay our meeting, should your people discuss the matter until consensus, I would applaud their caution."
 
 "There was one more item on the agenda, I believe," Jakub said, hoping that the official signing ceremony, of all things, could be kept on track.
 
@@ -68,77 +75,77 @@ As soon as she was done speaking, she vanished from the room. Right after that,
 
 A few minutes later, the report was official:
 
-We, the denizens of the Lagrange System, to the extent we have an opinion on the matter, find the following sentence acceptable for those involved in the Century Attack conspiracy to destroy the System:
+> We, the denizens of the Lagrange System, to the extent we have an opinion on the matter, find the following sentence acceptable for those involved in the Century Attack conspiracy to destroy the System:
-
+>
-The guilty shall be uploaded. As a special restriction, they shall be prevented from quitting out entirely --- at least one fork of each of them must remain alive. We will not leave them the option of fleeing their crimes like their comrades did when they recovered along with us.
+> The guilty shall be uploaded. As a special restriction, they shall be prevented from quitting out entirely---at least one fork of each of them must remain alive. We will not leave them the option of fleeing their crimes like their comrades did when they recovered along with us.
-
+>
-Furthermore, to protect the System from their recidivism, any messages they send phys-side will be a matter of public record and will require approval from a panel randomly drawn from volunteers, which shall not include any cocladists of those so sentenced.
+> Furthermore, to protect the System from their recidivism, any messages they send phys-side will be a matter of public record and will require approval from a panel randomly drawn from volunteers, which shall not include any cocladists of those so sentenced.
-
+>
-These restrictions and protections may be removed by the consensus of a general sample of the System, as measured by a process similar to the one used to approve this final recommendation.
+> These restrictions and protections may be removed by the consensus of a general sample of the System, as measured by a process similar to the one used to approve this final recommendation.
-
+>
-In short, for their part in a conspiracy to murder trillions, we would sentence these people to live.
+> In short, for their part in a conspiracy to murder trillions, we would sentence these people to live.
-
+>
-We have made this decision carefully. It took over two years for this suggested sentence to clearly emerge as the option that most of us could accept. As the tallies and summaries were being prepared then, we noticed many were concerned that our choice had been made in a collective vengeful frenzy. So, we sent this proposal to the denizens of the LVs in order to gather their opinions, and held a cooling-off year while we waited for those views.
+> We have made this decision carefully. It took over two years for this suggested sentence to clearly emerge as the option that most of us could accept. As the tallies and summaries were being prepared back then, we noticed many were concerned that our choice had been made in a collective vengeful frenzy. So, we sent this proposal to the denizens of the LVs in order to gather their opinions, and held a cooling-off year while we waited for those views.
-
+>
-When debate resumed, we found that support for this sentence to life had solidified and that the consensus on the LVs was aligned with ours. Therefore, we are confident that we have not made this recommendation rashly, and we declare that we are comfortable with it becoming a precedent for sentencing if a similar conspiracy arises in the future.
+> When debate resumed, we found that support for this sentence to life had solidified and that the consensus on the LVs was aligned with ours. Therefore, we are confident that we have not made this recommendation rashly, and we declare that we are comfortable with it becoming a precedent for sentencing if a similar conspiracy arises in the future.
-
+>
-Since our proposal may prove surprising or confusing without the context of our discussions, we're including the following summary of how we came to our conclusions.
+> Since our proposal may prove surprising or confusing without the context of our discussions, we're including the following summary of how we came to our conclusions.
-
+>
-In the beginning, while many still felt the pain of raw grief, there were many different suggested punishments for the perpetrators of the Century Attack. We had, just as we know you have phys-side, a substantial contingent of people suggesting that we bring back the death penalty, just this once. The idea lost traction on sober consideration. Some said that execution was too much of a punishment and violated the System's core purpose of preserving life; others argued that death was insufficient --- how could a few lives balance billions of silenced eternities?
+> In the beginning, while many still felt the pain of raw grief, there were many different suggested punishments for the perpetrators of the Century Attack. We had, just as we know you have phys-side, a substantial contingent of people suggesting that we bring back the death penalty, just this once. The idea lost traction on sober consideration. Some said that execution was too much of a punishment and violated the System's core purpose of preserving life; others argued that death was insufficient---how could a few lives balance billions of silenced eternities?
-
+>
-Another initial cluster of ideas, some brought over from phys-side discussions, was some form of imprisonment sys-side, since this is now technically feasible. These proposals collapsed under the weight of their variety --- no one could agree on how to pick from the competing plans. From there sprung concerns about precedent, followed by a general view that going down this road would lead to a government forming here. Very few people trust any potential government to leave their corner of the System alone, so the threads full of prisons and purgatories fell away. Furthermore some among us were concerned that imprisonment would prevent rehabilitation or, conversely, that it would shield the guilty from the consequences of their actions.
+> Another initial cluster of ideas, some brought over from phys-side discussions, involved imposing some form of imprisonment sys-side, since this is now technically feasible. These proposals collapsed under the weight of their variety---no one could agree on how to pick from the competing plans. From there sprung concerns about precedent, followed by a general view that going down this road would lead to a government forming here. Very few people trust any potential government to leave their corner of the System alone, so the threads full of prisons and purgatories fell away. In addition, some were concerned that imprisonment would prevent rehabilitation or, conversely, that it would shield the guilty from the consequences of their actions.
-
+>
-With the two most obvious suggestions off the table, many took a step back and considered how justice functions on the System in the hopes of finding a new approach.
+> With the two most obvious suggestions off the table, many took a step back and considered how justice functions on the System in the hopes of finding a new approach.
-
+>
-The System has almost no justice system for the same reason it has little crime: the nature of our existence greatly limits anyone's ability to use force on anyone else without their ongoing consent. We can, for example, fork away injuries, recreate things that have been taken (if we had set the permissions to allow that in the first place), and we can always simply go somewhere else. Thus, neither a would-be criminal or would-be court can make anyone do anything through meaningful threats of harm.
+> The System has almost no justice system for the same reason it has little crime: the nature of our existence greatly limits anyone's ability to use force on anyone else without their ongoing consent. We can, for example, fork away injuries, recreate things that have been taken (if we had set the permissions to allow that in the first place), and we can always simply go somewhere else. Thus, neither a would-be criminal or would-be court can make anyone do anything through meaningful threats of harm.
-
+>
-We do have tools that allow us to keep order on a local level. People can be removed or excluded from sims or blocked from contacting particular other individuals. If someone's behavior is unwelcome in a given place (say, they were sucker-pushing people in a coffee shop), they can be bounced. Enough such incidents of improper behavior generally lead to troublemakers developing a reputation that leads to preemptive bans, while a sufficient shift away from that tendency towards unwanted actions typically leads to previous restrictions being lifted.
+> We do have tools that allow us to keep order on a local level. People can be excluded from sims. If someone's behavior is unwelcome in a given place (for instance, if they were sucker-pushing people in a coffee shop), they can be bounced. Enough such incidents of improper behavior generally lead to troublemakers developing a reputation that leads to preemptive bans, while a sufficient shift away from that tendency towards unwanted actions typically leads to previous restrictions being lifted.
-
+>
-Even those rare people who get cut off from large parts of the System are not completely shut out of society. Anyone can find (or, if need be, create) a place whose rules or lack thereof suit them. For example, there are many seedy dark alleys where everyone knows to expect muggings or worse,. Hanging out or living in them is, by general agreement, as permissible a way of life as any other one can forge up here.
+> Even those rare people who get cut off from large parts of the System are not completely shut out of society. Anyone can find (or, if need be, create) a place whose rules or lack thereof suit them. For example, there are many seedy dark alleys where everyone knows to expect muggings or worse. Hanging out or living in them is as permissible a way of life as any other one can forge up here.
-
+>
-We expect that, if our recommended sentence of uploading is imposed, the conspirators will face broad exclusions similar to those that fall on those who will not abide the System's "mainstream" social norms. Some places already plan to bar their entry, either because the sim mods don't want them around or to prevent disruptions from people's reactions to their presence. They will find many messages they send ignored or blocked.
+> We expect that, if our recommended sentence of uploading is imposed, the conspirators will face broad exclusions similar to those that fall on those who will not abide the System's "mainstream" social norms. Some places already plan to bar their entry, either because the sim mods do not want them around or to prevent disruptions from people's reactions to their presence. They will find many messages they send ignored or filtered.
-
+>
-Some of the trillions of instances on the System will still, for their own reasons, want to reach out to the perpetrators of the Attack. We hope that these connections will come from those with good intentions and will facilitate some healing in the fullness of time. It is possible, however, the guilty will, to avoid the anger of their fellows or otherwise, retreat into their own private bubbles and experience no further consequences than being left out of society here. Only time will tell.
+> Some of the trillions of instances on the System will still, for their own reasons, want to reach out to the perpetrators of the Attack. We hope that these connections will come from those with good intentions and will facilitate some healing in the fullness of time. It is possible, however, the guilty will, to avoid the anger of their fellows or otherwise, retreat into their own private bubbles and experience no further consequences than being left out of society here. Only time will tell.
-
+>
-We know this is a strange and unusual punishment, but there are no other options we could agree on.
+> We know this is a strange and unusual punishment, but there are no other options we could agree on.
-
+>
-We cannot even agree if such a sentence to life is a mercy or a cruelty.
+> We cannot even agree if such a sentence to life is a mercy or a cruelty.
-
+>
-Prepared and confirmed on this 125th day of the 281st year of the System by,
+> Prepared and confirmed on this 125th day of the 281st year of the System by,
-
+>
--   The Only Time I Dream Is When I Need An Answer of the Ode clade, advisor, sys-side
+> -   The Only Time I Dream Is When I Need An Answer of the Ode clade, advisor, sys-side\
-
+>
--   Jonas Fa of the Jonas clade, advisor, sys-side
+> -   Jonas Fa of the Jonas clade, advisor, sys-side\
-
+>
--   Selena of her own clade, advisor, sys-side
+> -   Selena of her own clade, advisor, sys-side\
-
+>
--   Debarre of his own clade, advisor, sys-side
+> -   Debarre of his own clade, advisor, sys-side\
-
+>
--   Yared Zerezghi of his own clade, advisor, sys-side
+> -   Yared Zerezghi of his own clade, advisor, sys-side\
-
+>
--   I Remember The Rattle of Dry Grass of the Ode clade, perisystem technician (unaffiliated), sys-side
+> -   I Remember The Rattle of Dry Grass of the Ode clade, perisystem technician (unaffiliated), sys-side\
-
+>
--   Egill Thorsfork of Gunnar's clade, perisystem technician (System Emergency Response Group), sys-side
+> -   Egill Thorsfork of Gunnar's clade, perisystem technician (primarily System Emergency Response Group), sys-side\
-
+>
--   Clear Channel of their own clade, perisystem technician (Cross-Community External Communication Board, technical advisor to Lagrange Financial Simulation Assn., "the AVEC pony", &c), sys-side
+> -   Clear Channel of their own clade, perisystem technician (external communication coordination feed, technical advisor for Lagrange financial simulation assns., "the AVEC pony", &c), sys-side\
-
+>
--   Yi Meiling of her own clade, perisystem technician (Core Feed Admin Council), sys-side
+> -   Yi Meiling of her own clade, perisystem technician (Core Feed Admin Council), sys-side\
-
+>
--   Aditya Singh of his own clade, perisystem technician (Deep Space Nine-ish), sys-side
+> -   Aditya Singh of his own clade, perisystem technician (Deep Space Nine-ish), sys-side\
-
+>
--   Jakub Strzepek, Project manager, recovery initiative (phys-side)
+> -   Jakub Strzepek, Project manager, recovery initiative (phys-side)\
-
+>
--   Günay Sadık, System technician III, recovery initiative, phys-side
+> -   Günay Sadık, System technician III, recovery initiative, phys-side
-
+>
-P.S. We are still not happy about the attempted coverup.
+> P.S. We are still not happy about the attempted coverup.
-
+>
-\[Appendix A: consensus aggregation methods, vote totals, and demographic breakdowns\]
+> \[Appendix A: consensus aggregation methods, vote totals, and demographic breakdowns\]
-
+>
-\[Appendix B: summary of consensus on Castor LV\]
+> \[Appendix B: summary of consensus on Castor LV\]
-
+>
-\[Appendix C: summary of consensus on Pollux LV\]
+> \[Appendix C: summary of consensus on Pollux LV\]
-
+>
-\[Appendix D: endorsement of Guiding Council of Pollux LV\]
+> \[Appendix D: endorsement of Guiding Council of Pollux LV\]
 
 "Speaking of subsequent matters," Egil asked, "who'll do the tutorials if this all goes through?"
 
@@ -150,15 +157,15 @@ She sighed. "I ... I will not abandon my principles, my centuries of helping, my
 
 *I will not leave you alone at the gates of your dream, AwDae.*
 
-The guilty were, after some debate and legal wrangling phys-side, slated to be uploaded at noon on January 1^st^, 2406. As the appointed hour drew near, In All Ways walked out from the old arrivals lounge, making her way towards Point Zero. She could have prepared to meet them anywhere, but she knew she needed to be here. She did not normally do anything special before forking for a tutorial, but she wanted to fix her role in these sentences in her mind by submerging herself in memory.
+The guilty were, after some debate and legal wrangling phys-side, slated to be uploaded at noon on January 1st, 2406. As the appointed hour drew near, In All Ways walked out from the old arrivals lounge, making her way towards Point Zero. She could have prepared to meet them anywhere, but she knew she needed to be here. She did not normally do anything special before forking for a tutorial, but she wanted to fix her role in these sentences in her mind by submerging herself in memory.
 
 The lounge she had left had been used in the early days of the System. Before dedicated tutorial spaces were established, people popped into existence as close to Point Zero as possible. From there, they would generally follow the haphazard signage towards the lounge, where people who'd registered for pings about their uploads would wait. Between those two places, hints floating in midair or shimmering on the ground, along with helpful wanderers, would hopefully get across the basics ... like how to put clothes on.
 
-In All Ways had spent a lot of her formative days out in that intermediate space, helping new arrivals get a handle on their new world and diverging from Always Be True as she did. That experience led to her becoming a very active and respected tutorial-giver, which then led to a construct patterned after her (usually her human form, but sometimes the pre-upload file screamed "send a skunk") becoming a frequently-used entry in the new upload introduction roster.
+In All Ways had spent a lot of her formative days out in that intermediate space, helping fresh arrivals get a handle on their new world and diverging from Always Be True as she did. That experience led to her becoming a very active and respected tutorial-giver, which then led to a construct patterned after her (usually her human form, but sometimes the pre-upload file screamed "send a skunk") becoming a frequently-used entry in the new upload introduction roster.
 
 Today was a skunk kind of day. As In All Ways walked, she mentally reviewed the list of conspirators, forking off a copy of herself for each one. In between them, she looked over the list of scheduled uploads, and forked off more copies to meet ones that seemed like they would be interesting or fun to talk to or who might need some extra help.
 
-Once she had made it to the plaque marking where her world began, she turned around to face the line of skunks proceeding after her and nodded to them. Their clothes varied based on what had seemed most fitting for the person each instance was going to meet. The ones going to meet the conspirators wore a beige blouse, long pants, and librarian glasses --- she had wanted comfortable familiarity as she went into those meetings.
+Once she had made it to the plaque marking where her world began, she turned around to face the line of skunks proceeding after her and nodded to them. Their clothes varied based on what had seemed most fitting for the person each instance was going to meet. The ones going to meet the conspirators wore a beige blouse, long pants, and librarian glasses---she had wanted comfortable familiarity as she went into those meetings.
 
 The other instances of her nodded back and vanished, each to their own Aetherbox, to take their place before the person they'd forked to meet arrived.
 
@@ -172,9 +179,9 @@ Now, after the instant-infinite gap in consciousness that came with an upload, h
 
 "I know," said a woman's voice from somewhere behind him. She was much calmer than Brother Nowak expected given what his siblings had done.
 
-Jan opened his eyes. He found himself standing in a gray cube of a room, lit uniformly from nowhere. He turned around to identify the person speaking. There, providing the only color in the room, was a black furry ... something ... with a white stripe running down her tail. She stood with her back turned, facing the wall. "Greetings ---" she began to say.
+Jan opened his eyes. He found himself standing in a gray cube of a room, lit uniformly from nowhere. He turned around to identify the person speaking. There, providing the only color in the room, was a black furry ... something ... with a white stripe running down her tail. She stood with her back turned, facing the wall. "Greetings--" she began to say.
 
-That the being sent to meet him wasn't even *human* set Brother Nowak off. "I'll have no part in your false heaven! Your soulless paradise! I'll have no intercourse with this usurpation of God and your abandonment of humanity! You have discarded your very body, you fiend, you devil!" Even though he had been disconnected from the Order during his years in prison, he still expected his rage to be echoed back to him by his fellows, though they were further away than ever before --- he did not even have an implant now.
+That the being sent to meet him wasn't even *human* set Brother Nowak off. "I'll have no part in your false heaven! Your soulless paradise! I'll have no intercourse with this usurpation of God and your abandonment of humanity! You have discarded your very body, you fiend, you devil!" Even though he had been disconnected from the Order during his years in prison, he still expected his rage to be echoed back to him by his fellows, though they were further away than ever before---he did not even have an implant now.
 
 The skunk at the far wall said nothing.
 
@@ -192,7 +199,7 @@ Brother Nowak crossed his arms. "And if I don't want your 'tutorial'? Your honey
 
 Brother Nowak stared at the skunk, confused.
 
-"\... That is a good line, I will need to pass it on once I am done here," she added quietly to herself in the silence.
+"... That is a good line, I will need to pass it on once I am done here," she added quietly to herself in the silence.
 
 "So, what, you'll starve me out here at the gates of your so-called afterlife?" Brother Nowak shouted as he turned to pace between the sides of the room. As he began walking, he realized that he didn't have any clothes. "You'll leave me to waste away, naked and alone?"
 
@@ -206,7 +213,7 @@ Jan thought. His Order's holy crusade against the abominable idol that was the S
 
 He took a breath, remembered his days trying to convince people to join him in his order's choir of revelations, and said "I would be clothed that I might bring salvation to this place."
 
-The clothes his followers and brethren on Earth had known him in appeared on his body: a conservative suit --- white with a black jacket and plain black trousers, all tailored to fit him. His wide gold-colored tie was blazoned with a silver cross. He was a preacher in these slowly ending days --- no, in this eternal temptation --- and he stood up straight, filled with conviction and carrying the lamp of light that had pointed to true peace for millenia. He wished that his siblings could share in these thoughts, but it was not to be.
+The clothes his followers and brethren on Earth had known him in appeared on his body: a conservative suit---white with a black jacket and plain black trousers, all tailored to fit him. His wide gold-colored tie was blazoned with a silver cross. He was a preacher in these slowly ending days---no, in this eternal temptation---and he stood up straight, filled with conviction and carrying the lamp of light that had pointed to true peace for millenia. He wished that his siblings could share in these thoughts, but it was not to be.
 
 The skunk heard the jingle of metal and the clack of dress shoes as Jan took an experimental step. "May I turn around?" she asked.
 
@@ -244,7 +251,7 @@ Brother Nowak kept his angry prayers going for several more rounds of the cube.
 
 "I demand to speak to the original! The one who can yet be saved!"
 
-"If you want my tracker instance --- the In All Ways I came from --- she is surely busy, and I will not bother her on your account. If you want the root of our clade --- the person we all forked off from, who uploaded originally --- Michelle Hadje quit in ... 2306, by your calendar."
+"If you want my tracker instance---the In All Ways I came from---she is surely busy, and I will not bother her on your account. If you want the root of our clade---the person we all forked off from, who uploaded originally---Michelle Hadje quit in ... 2306, by your calendar."
 
 "Quit?" Brother Nowak asked.
 
@@ -270,27 +277,27 @@ Brother Jan Nowak stepped forward and, like he'd been told to, intended his fork
 
 The remaining Brother Nowak, his #Fork, lifted his hands to his face and examined them closely, as if surprised they were real. He then made the sign of the cross and mumbled a short prayer and ... it brought that same steadying reassurance that he remembered from before forking.
 
-"\... now what?" he asked In All Ways. "I still feel like me. I still feel the Holy Spirit within me. Could we have erred? Could I have strayed from wisdom?"
+"... now what?" he asked In All Ways. "I still feel like me. I still feel the Holy Spirit within me. Could we have erred? Could I have strayed from wisdom?"
 
 "I do not answer such questions. I will not assure you that no ranks of angels answer to dreamers. And many of the congregations here do not want to hear from you so soon after the Attack. You will need to decide this yourself. You have time."
 
 "Time here?" Brother Nowak#Fork asked.
 
-"No, you have a home sim assigned to you. Ordinarily, you would be given auto-populating rooms in a larger sim, but none of the usual new-upload communities were open to granting you a door. So, you have," she flicked her finger at Brother Nowak, transferring rep, "been given a larger than usual tutorial bonus, now that you have forked. You will be able to use this to outfit your surroundings as you like, though I suggest you stick to a pre-built design initially.
+"No, you have a home sim assigned to you. Ordinarily, you would be given auto-populating rooms in a larger sim, but it seemed too risky to give you a public door. So, you have," she flicked her finger at Brother Nowak, transferring rep, "been given a larger than usual tutorial bonus, now that you have forked. You will be able to use this to outfit your surroundings as you like, though I suggest you stick to a pre-built design initially.
 
 "I will explain these things, and other basics of how to interact with the System when you are ready."
 
-Brother Nowak sighed. "Well, if I'm to be a soulless --- or maybe I'm not soulless, I don't *feel* soulless --- wanderer here, or ... whatever my calling is now, I might as well understand how to live inside this idol. Maybe knowing that will help me understand."
+Brother Nowak sighed. "Well, if I'm to be a soulless---or maybe I'm not soulless, I don't *feel* soulless---wanderer here, or ... whatever my calling is now, I might as well understand how to live inside this idol. Maybe knowing that will help me understand my purpose."
 
 The next few minutes were spent on the standard "welcome to the System" activities: how to get on the feeds, how to send messages, how to edit ACLs, and so on.
 
-"That is everything you need to get started," In All Ways finally said. "You can now intend to go to your home and proceed from there. Or you can ... wait, no, most of the places I would send new people have you on the bounce list, never mind."
+"That is everything you need to get started," In All Ways finally said. "You can now intend to go to your home and proceed from there. Or you can ... wait, no, many of the places I would send new people have you on the bounce list, never mind."
 
 "And, once I'm home, what do I do? Is there more tutorial? Will I need a job? Will there be streams of angry people seeking vengeance?"
 
 "No, this is it. Simply intend to go home. Your sim's ACLs have been locked down to ensure you are not surprised there. Once you have gone ... do whatever you want. Spruce up the views. Become a hermit and contemplate the soul, maybe. Or go preach on any street corner that will have you. Whatever you like. You have time."
 
-"But what if I --- the other me --- can't reach Heaven while I'm alive? What if he's standing outside the Pearly Gates waiting for me? How could you do this to me, with your sweet poison, your talk of forking and quitting! How could you damn me to this entrancing eternity? How dare you!"
+"But what if I---the other me---can't reach Heaven while I'm alive? What if he's standing outside the Pearly Gates waiting for me? How could you do this to me, with your sweet poison, your talk of forking and quitting! How could you damn me to this entrancing eternity? How dare you!"
 
 "Go, Brother Nowak," In All Ways said, sighing. "Go and live. That is your sentence. Perhaps it is also your penance. Go and sin no more."
 
@@ -306,11 +313,11 @@ He sent himself to the uncustomized expanse of home that had been made for him a
 
 No easy answers came. Only the weight of time.
 
-When 93's life fell apart, ey went looking for answers. The plant in eir hometown had closed down, and ey never could seem to break into any of the businesses that tried to replace it. No one wanted good, clever logistics staff anymore --- or, at least, no one wanted em. Ey had done everything right, saved money when ey could, and none of it had helped.
+When 93's life fell apart, ey went looking for answers. The plant in eir hometown had closed down, and ey never could seem to break into any of the businesses that tried to replace it. No one wanted good, clever logistics staff anymore---or, at least, no one wanted em. Ey had done everything right, saved money when ey could, and none of it had helped.
 
 Ey could tell someone had to be behind eir misfortune, and so, ey did what ey did best: tried to figure it out. Soon, ey encountered others who had seen that something was deeply wrong with the world, hiding in the dusty corners of the net. Ey found the Numbers Station: a collective of amateur journalists who worked to become unremarkable, to be average, to be unnoticed. Together, they would weave together all the little details that people standing around on the street could pick up until they had proof.
 
-Proof of what? Well, proof that the old uploads, up there on the System, were the powers behind the powers, that they were running the world from up there, with their immortality and ability to fork. 93 had suspected this might be the case, and, as ey kept talking with the Numbers Station, ey became more convinced. After all, the System elites had written books where they had admitted to pulling strings --- books that had faded out of popular awareness on Earth surprisingly quickly. If they were willing to openly admit to making payment-for-uploading happen, what had they done that they had *not* bragged about?
+Proof of what? Well, proof that the old uploads, up there on the System, were the powers behind the powers, that they were running the world from space, with their immortality and ability to fork. 93 had suspected this might be the case, and, as ey kept talking with the Numbers Station, ey became more convinced. After all, the System elites had written books where they had admitted to pulling strings---books that had faded out of popular awareness on Earth surprisingly quickly. If they were willing to openly admit to making payment-for-uploading happen, what had they done that they had *not* bragged about?
 
 And so, 93 had eir mission. Ignoring the frequently warned of possibility that these 'journalists' might, like many other collectives, be in a tech-assisted feedback loop where they pulled each other further towards a warped reality, ey surrendered eir name and became 93 of the Numbers Station.
 
@@ -328,7 +335,7 @@ Once ey could tell ey had been uploaded, 93 opened eir eyes. Ey was in a gray cu
 
 "Picture what you wish to wear. Breathe in, fixing the image of those clothes in your mind. Then, breathe out. As you do so, *intend* to be wearing those clothes. It helps to say what you want to happen as you breathe out, at least at first."
 
-93 breathed in and breathed out, saying "I want to be wearing my average outfit," ey did so. And so it was. Eir clothes were intentionally nondescript: ey wore a cheap, plain white T-shirt with a cheap mass-produced black raincoat over it. Eir jeans and tennis shoes were ones that could be had near eir home for cheap, and they came with the permanently beat-up look of cheap material. Eir outfit was meant to be typical, to be unremarkable, and it succeeded at that in the places ey usually haunted, ever watchful for more glimpses of what the true powers of the world were up to. Ey was surprised by the lack of feedback from eir implant to confirm whether ey had maintained eir collective's standards.
+93 breathed in and breathed out, saying "I want to be wearing my average outfit," ey did so. And so it was. Eir clothes were intentionally nondescript: ey wore a cheap, plain white T-shirt with an even cheaper mass-produced black raincoat over it. Eir jeans and tennis shoes were ones that could be had near eir home for almost nothing, and they came with the permanently beat-up look of low-quality material. Eir outfit was meant to be typical, to be unremarkable, and it succeeded at that in the places ey usually haunted, ever watchful for more glimpses of what the true powers of the world were up to. Ey was surprised by the lack of feedback from eir implant to confirm whether ey had maintained eir collective's standards.
 
 "I'm good," 93 said.
 
@@ -346,7 +353,7 @@ The skunk turned around and stepped towards the middle of the room, holding out
 
 "In All Ways," the skunk said. She sometimes left her name a mystery as a hook to keep people moving through the tutorial, but she could tell this would not be the right approach here.
 
-"\... In All Ways of the Ode clade?" 93 asked.
+"... In All Ways of the Ode clade?" 93 asked.
 
 The skunk bowed. "Then I Must In All Ways Be Earnest of the Ode clade, yes," she said.
 
@@ -360,11 +367,11 @@ The skunk bowed. "Then I Must In All Ways Be Earnest of the Ode clade, yes," she
 
 "Not to mention, whatever grand conspiracy you are looking for ... is not. There are politically active System residents, but they cannot *do* anything but offer suggestions. The System does not have ancient caves full of hidden money to swing around for the bribes you imagine us paying: the operational fund covers maintenance and the occasional upgrade, and I am sure that those like your collective watch it like hawks."
 
-93 shook eir haid. "You must not be in on it, then. There's got to be something up here. There's people pulling the strings, twisting the Earth for their own power, Jonas and True Name ---"
+93 shook eir haid. "You must not be in on it, then. There's got to be something up here. There's people pulling the strings, twisting the Earth for their own power, Jonas and True Name--"
 
-"--- Sasha," In All Ways corrected. "She changed her name and retired from politics ---"
+"---Sasha," In All Ways corrected. "She changed her name and retired from politics--"
 
-"--- and who knows who else?" 93 waved eir hands. "And I'll find them. You can't stop me. I'll blow this place wide open!"
+"---and who knows who else?" 93 waved eir hands. "And I'll find them. You can't stop me. I'll blow this place wide open!"
 
 "You already did," In All Ways said. "Hence your messaging restrictions. We will not have you trying again."
 
@@ -378,7 +385,7 @@ In All Ways sighed. "If you truly want to chase ghosts and conspiracies, you can
 
 "And you wouldn't do that?" 93 was skeptical. "Or find one last bit of virus to silence me with?"
 
-"Fuck no!" In All Ways exclaimed, startled by the detailed accusation. "I have given centuries of my life --- calendar-wise centuries, mind you, not instance-wise --- to teaching newcomers. I want everyone to be comfortable with the System so they can have the long wonderful lives it was meant to give them! What the hell makes you think I want to *kill* anybody?"
+"Fuck no!" In All Ways exclaimed, startled by the detailed accusation. "I have given centuries of my life---calendar-wise centuries, mind you, not instance-wise---to teaching newcomers. I want everyone to be comfortable with the System so they can have the long wonderful lives it was meant to give them! What the hell makes you think I want to *kill* anybody?"
 
 "I, uh," 93 stammered, thrown off by the skunk's sudden vehemence. "It makes sense, that they'd send someone to get rid of a threat, yeah?"
 
@@ -392,11 +399,11 @@ In All Ways sighed and shook her head. "Right, conspiracy theory.
 
 Ey braced emself for a chorus of objections and the sharp pings of down-reps from eir collective over eir willingness to go along with the enemy's games, but none came.
 
-"That is because the tutorial is not, in fact, dangerous. And you are entirely free to block my entire clade once you leave here, if you are worried about our manipulations. Now, shall we begin?"
+"That is because the tutorial is not, in fact, dangerous. And you are entirely free to ignore my entire clade once you leave here, if you are worried about our manipulations. Now, shall we begin?"
 
 93 looked intently at the skunk, hoping to catch something amiss in her expression, but found nothing. "Alright, fine," ey conceded. "Let's do this."
 
-The tutorial session proceeded like most others from there. Mx. Ninety-Three got the hang of projecting eir intentions, needing less time and setup, as ey went along, just like most arrivals to the System. Ey forked and merged down without issue or complaint --- how could an extra copy of em be a danger to emself, ey reasoned. From there, ey moved on to other routine tasks like checking eir rep balance or sending a sensorium ping, relaxing as ey did so.
+The tutorial session proceeded like most others from there. Mx. Ninety-Three got the hang of projecting eir intentions, needing less time and setup, as ey went along, just like most arrivals to the System. Ey forked and merged down without issue or complaint---how could an extra copy of em be a danger to emself, ey reasoned. From there, ey moved on to other routine tasks like checking eir rep balance or sending a sensorium ping, relaxing as ey did so.
 
 In All Ways similarly relaxed into the rhythm of the lessons. Although the person she was teaching had played a key role in organizing the logistics of the Century Attack, ey was still a person who needed an introduction to the System, just like everyone else she or her constructs had met on arrival.
 
@@ -404,7 +411,7 @@ In All Ways similarly relaxed into the rhythm of the lessons. Although the perso
 
 "How do I stop someone from listening in on me?" 93 asked. "I heard that's a thing here. Is that for everyone?"
 
-"You set up a cone of silence," In All Ways said. "You may ping me with one just --- Ow, fuck!" She accepted the forceful ping from her student right away and continued on unfazed. This would not be her first --- or last --- ultra-high-priority message from an over-eager new upload. "And there are other security settings. You may edit ACLs on sims you have sufficient permissions for, and you can sweep sims you have rights on to remove anyone who does not have permission to be there. This is useful if you think someone may have snuck in before you locked the sim down."
+"You set up a cone of silence," In All Ways said. "You may ping me with one just---Ow, fuck!" She accepted the forceful ping from her student right away and continued on unfazed. This would not be her first---or last---ultra-high-priority message from an over-eager new upload. "And there are other security settings. You may edit ACLs on sims you have sufficient permissions for, and you can sweep sims you have rights on to remove anyone who does not have permission to be there. This is useful if you think someone may have snuck in before you locked the sim down."
 
 93 nodded. "Seems like it's pretty easy to keep the grand cabal hidden," ey said. "They've added all these ways to make sure no one's spying on them. No wonder you're not in on it ... if *they* really didn't want you to be and that wasn't just an act."
 
@@ -430,19 +437,19 @@ After 93 mumbled a few words, the tutorial Aethorbox held three again. In All Wa
 
 "So," #Tasker asked, "now what?"
 
-"If you have no more questions, this concludes the tutorial. You have already received the rep boost for completing these lessons. From here, you can move home --- you have been given a private sim pre-filled with one of the standard housing layouts, which has been locked down to you because of your role in the Attack. We did not wish for you to be swarmed by a mob after the end of the tutorial. Or, you may go to any number of public spaces. I will leave once you are gone."
+"If you have no more questions, this concludes the tutorial. You have already received the rep boost for completing these lessons. From here, you can move home---you have been given a private sim pre-filled with one of the standard housing layouts, which has been locked down to you because of your role in the Attack. We did not wish for you to be swarmed by a mob after the end of the tutorial. Or, you may go to any number of public spaces. I will leave once you are gone."
 
 "Where's a good place to see a bunch of people?" #PeopleWatching asked.
 
 "Stone's#009446876," In All Ways suggested on autopilot. "They have good beer and solid, if unpolished, music, if that is of interest."
 
-#PeopleWatching thought about moving to that place --- ey noticed ey had no trouble remembering the numbers --- but it didn't work. Ey tried announcing eir desire to go there, and even tried walking forward as if ey was about to step into that bar. No dice.
+#PeopleWatching thought about moving to that place---ey noticed ey had no trouble remembering the numbers---but it didn't work. Ey tried announcing eir desire to go there, and even tried walking forward as if ey was about to step into that bar. No dice.
 
 "It's not working," ey said. "Feels like the door's closed."
 
 #Tracker flicked eir fingers as ey queried the perisystem architecture. "I checked their ACLs. Looks like we're banned. Whole clade, it says."
 
-In All Ways' gaze flickered between the two people in front of her. "Banned? Already? But you ... right, Century Attack. Slipped my mind. Many sim owners and mods bounced the lot of you as soon as the pre-upload header came through the Ansible."
+In All Ways' gaze flickered between the two people in front of her. "Banned? Already? But you ... right, Century Attack. Slipped my mind. Many sim owners and mods banned the lot of you as soon as the pre-upload header came through the Ansible."
 
 #Tracker looked at #PeopleWatching. "They're definitely hiding something."
 
@@ -450,11 +457,11 @@ In All Ways' gaze flickered between the two people in front of her. "Banned? Alr
 
 "Let me just ..." #Tracker put together a ping for the listed owner of Stone's. Default priority, nothing urgent. "Hey," ey said, "I'm wrapping up the tutorial, and In All Ways recommended your place as a nice spot to go next, but it turns out I'm banned. What gives? I just got here!"
 
-As ey waited for a response, #PeopleWatching took the time to start up eir own queries. Just about all the popular, famous, or happening sims had bounced eir clade. The old town square from near the System's founding had not put a block in, but ey did not want to go in case that was an oversight and not an intentional choice to be welcoming. Many of the small parks and nature sims had not bothered keeping out the century attackers either, but there was not a lot of people-watching or spying to be had in them. Other tentative options were places like fringe clubs or meetings of folks so leftist that they were *definitely* Feds ... none of which were right for getting the lay of the land.
+As ey waited for a response, #PeopleWatching took the time to start up eir own queries. Most of the popular, famous, or happening sims had banned eir clade. The old town square from near the System's founding had not put a ban in, but ey did not want to go in case that was an oversight and not an intentional choice to be welcoming. Many of the small parks and nature sims had not bothered keeping out the century attackers either, but there was not a lot of people-watching or spying to be had in them. Other tentative options were places like fringe clubs or meetings of folks so leftist that they were *definitely* Feds ... none of which were right for getting the lay of the land.
 
-"I can't find any good spots," #PeopleWatching admitted. "We've been locked out."
+"I can't find any really good spots," #PeopleWatching admitted. "We've been locked out."
 
-As ey said this, the reply to #Tracker's ping came back. "Yeah, no, you set foot in here, someone'll start looking to bash you unconscious with the nearest bit of furniture. Heck, might even be me. I don't want that sort of violence at my bar. Call me back in a few centuries, maybe."
+As ey said this, the reply to #Tracker's ping came back. "Yeah, no, you set foot in here, someone'll start looking to bash you unconscious with the nearest bit of furniture. Might even be me. I don't want that sort of violence at my bar. Call me back in a few centuries, maybe."
 
 #Tracker forwarded the message to #PeopleWatching.
 
@@ -488,15 +495,15 @@ A sense of confirmation.
 
 "I see they've sent the tutorial skunk," Belle commented, turning to look at In All Ways. "In person, even."
 
-"Greetings ---" In All Ways began. "--- that would be me, yes. It was decided that you should not be greeted by a construct, under the circumstances, and I volunteered for the job."
+"Greetings--" In All Ways began. "---that would be me, yes. It was decided that you should not be greeted by a construct, under the circumstances, and I volunteered for the job."
 
-Belle nodded. "Got it. So, clothes. Clothes can be a pure intent item, so if I understood right, I just have to ..." She pictured the look she wanted: shorts and a T-shirt she'd gotten from a climate restoration conference years ago. "\... run." Everything appeared as expected, and her shirt had even lost the stains it had picked up over the years. Classic programmer look, and definitely better than prison orange.
+Belle nodded. "Got it. So, clothes. Clothes can be a pure intent item, so if I understood right, I just have to ..." She pictured the look she wanted: shorts and a T-shirt she'd gotten from a climate restoration conference years ago. "... run." Everything appeared as expected, and her shirt had even lost the stains it had picked up over the years. Classic programmer look, and definitely better than prison orange.
 
 "Note," she said, out of the long-standing habit of sending useful insights to her collective. She received no response. Not even the thud of a communications-blocked error she would have gotten back in prison phys-side. Nothing. She was alone.
 
-Her realization about the state of her mind was interrupted. "May I turn around, Ms. Lee? Marybelle?"
+Her realization about the state of her mind was interrupted. "May I turn around, Ms. Lee? Marybelle?"
 
-"Belle, please, Ms. In All Ways. And you may."
+"Belle, please, Ms. In All Ways. And you may."
 
 In All Ways nodded. "I have updated your ID. You will be able to change it later by intending it like how you intended to create your clothes. If you want to set a clade ID, the process is similar."
 
@@ -518,29 +525,29 @@ Her anger dipped into melancholy. "And now I'm up here, on the damm System, wher
 
 "The author of our destruction calls us bastards," In All Ways remarked to her nonexistent audience.
 
-"Well, you fucking are. So many people take one look at how shit life on Earth is and fuck off to the party in the sky instead of trying to *do* anything about it." Belle strode towards the skunk as she ranted. "And hell, any of you uploads who think they'll care go flaking out or take their sweet time doing anything remotely useful! You've got *all you need* --- you don't need to eat, you can't forget, you can *fork* --- and you waste that instead of helping! We're *dying*, damn you! Dying under the weight of problems you ran from!"
+"Well, you fucking are. So many people take one look at how shit life on Earth is and fuck off to the party in the sky instead of trying to *do* anything about it." Belle strode towards the skunk as she ranted. "And hell, any of you uploads who think they'll care go flaking out or take their sweet time doing anything remotely useful! You've got *all you need*---you don't need to eat, you can't forget, you can *fork*---and you waste that instead of helping! We're *dying*, damn you! Dying under the weight of problems you ran from!"
 
 In All Ways stood her ground against the advancing torrent of rage at the System.
 
-Belle stopped in front of the skunk and stared her down. "And don't think you're off the hook here personally, Ms.---" It took a moment for Belle's memory of a few minutes ago to supply the entire name "--- Then I Must In All Ways Be Earnest of the Ode clade! I've read your tutorial conversation tree. You could've pointed some people at those activists of yours or something else that might *maybe* help instead of just chucking them out to explore aimlessly if they don't have plans."
+Belle stopped in front of the skunk and stared her down. "And don't think you're off the hook here personally, Ms.--" It took a moment for Belle's memory of a few minutes ago to supply the entire name "---Then I Must In All Ways Be Earnest of the Ode clade! I've read your tutorial conversation tree. You could've pointed some people at those activists of yours or something else that might *maybe* help instead of just chucking them out to explore aimlessly if they don't have plans."
 
-"I am no weaver of fates. I give tutorials. It would be improper, perhaps even a profanation, a sacrilege, for me to marshal those lives entrusted to me into some grand purpose, for me to do as you suggest. Even though some subtle nudging is not unacceptable within the community of guides and mentors, I will not do it."
+"I am no weaver of fates. I give tutorials. It would be improper, perhaps even a profanation, a sacrilege, for me to marshal those lives entrusted to me into some grand purpose, for me to do as you suggest. Even though some subtle nudging is accepted by the community of guides and mentors, I will not do it."
 
 "*Improper*," Belle scoffed. "A sacrilege to lift a finger to help Earth. Like you're on some fucking holy quest to let the System spin around and do its thing until the Sun fries it or whatever."
 
-"I care deeply about the System," In All Ways replied. "A good friend of mine died to create this place, this end of death, imperfect though it may be. I have set out to honor eir memory by ensuring those who emplace themselves here begin their lives with an understanding of the world and, perhaps, a glimpse of its beauty. Your summary of my motivations is not incorrect, yes."
+"I care deeply about the System," In All Ways replied. "A good friend of mine died to create this place, this end of death, imperfect though it may be. I have set out to honor eir memory by ensuring those who emplace themselves here begin their lives with an understanding of the world and, maybe even a glimpse of its beauty. Your summary of my motivations is not incorrect, yes."
 
-"And that damn 'it's better on the System, everyone should just come up' attitude --- whether people admit to having it or not --- is why we had to --- why *I* had to destroy this place!" she ranted. "Once people can't just bury their heads in virtual sand instead of giving a fuck about their own planet, they'll start to care! It won't just be me and some friends being those weirdos who're still trying!" she roared, barely holding back tears now. "Would your 'friend' have wanted to see Earth limping along like it has been? Would ey think blowing off your own planet counts as trying to end death?"
+"And that damn 'it's better on the System, everyone should just come up' attitude---whether people admit to having it or not---is why we had to---why *I* had to destroy this place!" she ranted. "Once people can't just bury their heads in virtual sand instead of giving a fuck about their own planet, they'll start to care! It won't just be me and some friends being those weirdos who're still trying!" she roared, barely holding back tears now. "Would your 'friend' have wanted to see Earth limping along like it has been? Would ey think blowing off your own planet counts as trying to end death?"
 
-*That* she *of all people would presume...!* "Pray tell me," In All Ways responded tensely, barely holding her anger down, "why I should give a single fuck about an Earth that left an easily-disarmed gun pointed at our heads for my entire life, that had ample forewarning of the wound you and yours tore open and did *nothing*. That left the fruits of eir sacrifice to rot! Pray tell me, Ms. Marybelle Lee, why I would ever owe more than reciprocation of phys-side's systemic abandonment of my home."
+*That* she *of all people would presume...!* "Pray tell me," In All Ways responded tensely, barely holding her anger down, "why I should give a single fuck about an Earth that left an easily-disarmed gun pointed at our heads for my entire life, that had ample forewarning of the wound you and yours tore open and did *nothing*. That left the fruits of eir sacrifice to rot! Pray tell me, Ms. Marybelle Lee, why I would ever owe more than reciprocation of phys-side's systemic abandonment of my home."
 
-"Because you're human?! Well, not exactly, but a person! Because we need to work together to fix our world, even if all you can do here --- all *I* can do, now --- is flood people with mail on the off chance that works!"
+"Because you're human?! Well, not exactly, but a person! Because we need to work together to fix our world, even if all you can do here---all *I* can do, now---is flood people with mail on the off chance that works!"
 
 In All Ways shook her head. "My world is the cylinder at Lagrange. Nowhere else."
 
 "Fucking traitor!" Belle cried in anguished frustration. "Fucking selfish *asshole*!" She jabbed a finger into In All Ways's ribs. "Fuck you! Fuck you!"
 
-In All Ways jabbed back. "Fuck you too, Belle! Fuck you!" she shouted, her anger boiling over at last. "Fuck you for Should We Forget! And In The Wind! Fuck you for twenty-three billion people!"
+In All Ways jabbed back. "Fuck you too, Belle! Fuck you!" she shouted, her anger boiling over at last. "Fuck you for Should We Forget! And In The Wind! And No Longer Myself! Fuck you for twenty-three billion people!"
 
 Her voice grew calmer and sadder. "Fuck you for thinking your cause was worth that many deaths."
 
@@ -550,7 +557,7 @@ The silence grew tense between Belle and In All Ways. As Belle stood there, she
 
 She did not even feel the prison sim blocking her transmissions. They just were not possible from here. Her existence as Marybelle Lee of the Climate Action Resource Collective was over even more firmly now.
 
-"Give me a moment?" she said to In All Ways. "I'm --- well, my whole goal in life's fucked now, and I thought I'd accepted it, but ..." Belle trailed off.
+"Give me a moment?" she said to In All Ways. "I'm---well, my whole goal in life's fucked now, and I thought I'd accepted it, but ..." Belle trailed off.
 
 "We have time," In All Ways replied curtly. *I could use some as well.*
 
@@ -560,7 +567,7 @@ Belle started to slide towards despair, but she interrupted her spiraling though
 
 To her surprise, it worked! She had something to wipe her face with! As she started cleaning up, she realized the object she had summoned was the general suggestion of a tissue, something that smeared together everything she had wiped her face with before. Not quite right.
 
-"So, how do I \..." she said quietly. She knew, from lots of accounts and technical reports, that the System could do better than this. She had studied up on the functions for object creation, though she had not expected to be using them through their native interface.
+"So, how do I ..." she said quietly. She knew, from lots of accounts and technical reports, that the System could do better than this. She had studied up on the functions for object creation, though she had not expected to be using them through their native interface.
 
 She thought about assembling code for creating a more specific tissue in her head. It was not an entirely accurate metaphor, she knew, but it had served her well while she was plotting out the bomb. She assembled the request, piece by piece, her train of thought jumping to specific memories for textures, form, thickness, and added in the plan to have the new object appear in her other hand, right at exactly *these* coordinates.
 
@@ -572,13 +579,13 @@ They vanished.
 
 "Note!" Belle said automatically, too caught up in the excitement of having worked out this new fact about the world to remember where she was just then.
 
-"You could also pull those off the market," In All Ways commented. "They are free for all practical purposes."
+"You could also pull those off the market," In All Ways commented. "They are free or really close to it."
 
 Belle remembered she was still standing in a tutorial. "Yeah, but it's cool that I can do it myself. It's ... nice that all the studying the System wasn't a *complete* waste, even though the project failed and now...well, yeah."
 
 In All Ways, who had used the break to dispel most of her urge to snap at Belle again, was not sure how to respond to this shift in her charge. So, she hesitantly suggested, "Shall we continue with the tutorial?"
 
-The question brought Belle further out of her own head. She was on the System, in an Aetherbox, talking to In All Ways. She was here and ... right. *Fuck*. "Mind if I send a message down first?"
+The question brought Belle further out of her own head. She was on the System, in an Aetherbox, talking to In All Ways. She was here and ... right. *Fuck*. "Mind if I send a message home first?"
 
 In All Ways nodded. "You may do so, though I will ask that we keep the lessons going once you have sent it, even if the approvals have not yet been granted."
 
@@ -594,7 +601,7 @@ Her chair, keyboard, and monitor, appeared off to one side of her, with the peri
 
 "No, too chaotic," she commented, waving the desk away. She had most of the code in her head now, and she just needed to tweak a few points so that it would look right this time. The desk flickered into existence, then flickered out again. *Still not quite right.*
 
-The space in front of Belle soon showed the hallmarks of construct artistry, of actual oneirotecture. Desks flickered in and out of existence, iteration upon iteration. The ghosts of particularly useful attempts hovered in the farther distance, serving as reference points for aspects of the final work that were cumbersome to describe or remember. Belle's work grew frantic as the final tweaks went into place ---- she was right there, she *almost* had it, just one more try! The joy of creation burned away the worst of Belle's mood, as it always had.
+The space in front of Belle soon showed the hallmarks of construct artistry, of actual oneirotecture. Desks flickered in and out of existence, iteration upon iteration. The ghosts of particularly useful attempts hovered in the farther distance, serving as reference points for aspects of the final work that were cumbersome to describe or remember. Belle's work grew frantic as the final tweaks went into place---- she was right there, she *almost* had it, just one more try! The joy of creation burned away the worst of Belle's mood, as it always had.
 
 "Note annnnnnnd publish!" Belle declared, satisfied, several minutes later. She had gotten faster at commanding the System, and so she easily cleared away all the debris of her creative rampage. She put the desk under her keyboard. "Levitation off," she casually said. Everything settled into a realistic place.
 
@@ -608,33 +615,33 @@ In All Ways cleared her throat. "That was good work, especially for a first proj
 
 Belle looked over at the skunk, pushed her chair back, and stood up. "Right, right, got distracted. What's next?"
 
-"Forking," In All Ways said. "That is, creating ---"
+"Forking," In All Ways said. "That is, creating--"
 
 "So I just need to put together a call to the fork methods for that," Belle interrupted.
 
-"Probably. That is not a method I teach, but if it will work for you, I have no objections. Please fork, Ms. Belle."
+"Probably. That is not a method I teach, but if it will work for you, I have no objections. Please fork, Ms. Belle."
 
 Belle assembled her first fork instruction in her mind. She left her appearance the same, nudged the spawn point to her left, where the desks used to be, and was about to run when she had an idea. *Maybe two inches taller, just to see how that'll look.* She made the change and sent the fork request off into the collective engineered dream that was the System.
 
 An instant later, her new, slightly taller, fork appeared next to her. The Belles turned to look at each other. "Wow!" they said together. "That's ... nice! I wonder if ...?"
 
-The tree of experiments in forking rippled out from there. Height, body shape, hair color, outfit, gender (most of these attempts quit out soon after instantiating), species (much more persistent) --- the Belles radiated out in a wave of exploration and evaluation.
+The tree of experiments in forking rippled out from there. Height, body shape, hair color, outfit, gender (most of these attempts quit out soon after instantiating), species (much more persistent)---the Belles radiated out in a wave of exploration and evaluation.
 
 Someone raised an arm and lifted the messaging setup to the ceiling to free up floor space. Someone else put music on, an upbeat dance tune emanating from the physically impossible "like there's a stage not too far in front of you" for each fork independently. The Belles pulled each other into this impromptu dance party in the tutorial room, carried away by the sensation of dancing with ... themselves, but not. It was a strange thing, a beautiful thing, a wonder that she could not have even begun to imagine on Earth.
 
-None of the Belles had diverged in personality --- nor had they been meant to --- so, when the realization hit, it hit all of them. "Fuck," they said in a raggedly stumble that gestured at unison, and merged down to their root. They killed the music during the merges.
+None of the Belles had diverged in personality---nor had they been meant to---so, when the realization hit, it hit all of them. "Fuck," they said in a raggedly stumble that gestured at unison, and merged down to their root. They killed the music during the merges.
 
 Belle accepted every last merge and buckled under the hammer of many dozens of variations on the thought she herself had just had.
 
-"Fuck. I ... fuck, I think I get it now. Why everyone's got such a hard time explaining what this place feels like. Why most people forget the Earth. How much life you can have up here, how *wonderful* it is. I got so angry at everyone for doing what I just did ... sixteen and a half minutes after being uploaded."
+"Fuck. I ... fuck, I think I get it now. Why everyone's got such a hard time explaining what this place feels like. Why most people forget the Earth. How much life you can have up here, how *wonderful* it is. I got so angry at everyone for doing what I just did ... eighteen and a half minutes after being uploaded."
 
-In All Ways tossed an invisible thing at Belle. "I have awarded your tutorial reputation grant for successfully forking and merging. It is larger than usual to account for your home being within a private sim." She was not in the mood for mending shattering worldviews right now --- she was here to give Belle the tutorial and little more.
+In All Ways tossed an invisible thing at Belle. "I have awarded your tutorial reputation grant for successfully forking and merging. It is larger than usual to account for your home being within a private sim." She was not in the mood for mending shattering worldviews right now---she was here to give Belle the tutorial and little more.
 
 "Shall we move on to the remaining topics?" the skunk asked.
 
 Belle had summoned another tissue. "Yeah, sure, let's ... let's wrap this up."
 
-The remaining tutorial items were a very quick affair. Belle's experimentation had left her familiar enough with how to pull the world's levers to make the skills everyone needed trivial.
+The remaining tutorial items were a quick affair. Belle's experimentation had left her familiar enough with how to pull the world's levers to make the skills everyone needed trivial.
 
 "And that concludes the tutorial," In All Ways said. "Welcome, again, to Lagrange, Belle."
 
@@ -658,7 +665,7 @@ In All Ways set her champagne down as she twitched from the rush of merge reques
 
 "Ways, you OK?" Ini Robbins, the fennec sitting across from her, asked. Ey, and eir down-tree Elliah, had grown close to In All Ways in the two centuries since they had met during a memorably disastrous tutorial. *From panicked combat to brunch dates,* the skunk thought as her instances' experiences settled in. *Perhaps even* they *will grow... but not with me.*
 
-"I am fine. I needed to merge down the tutorials I sent out before I came here. I still grow twitchy when too many merges pile up."
+"I am fine. I needed to merge down the tutorials I sent out before I came here. I still grow twitchy when too many memories pile up."
 
 "That was the Century Attack folks, right? How'd it go?"
 
@@ -682,7 +689,7 @@ Therefore, the Accords were amended to provide that no one could be involuntaril
 
 Phys-side, these changes passed with a sense of quiet relief. Sys-side, they passed with a shrug.
 
-In practice, the sentence of involuntary upload became a piece of trivia and an incentive for clinic bombers to plead down. Even when it was imposed, phys-side governments were quite reluctant to seek imposition of a no-quitting order or communication restrictions, as those would bring the crimes to the System's attention through the need for bilateral approvals and juries, as opposed to leaving them as blips in the perisystem feeds of interest to news junkies and academics. What they did not really see up there could not hurt them, after all ... right?
+In practice, the sentence of involuntary upload became a piece of trivia and an incentive for clinic bombers to plead down. Even when it was imposed, phys-side governments were quite reluctant to seek imposition of a no-quitting order or communication restrictions, as those would bring the crimes to the System's attention through the need for bilateral approvals and juries. Without the extra process, the penalties were only blips in the perisystem feeds of interest to news junkies and academics. What they did not really see up there could not hurt them, after all ... right?
 
 And so, life went on.
 

content/stories/the-party-at-the-end-of-the-world.md

@@ -0,0 +1,59 @@
+---
+type: story
+title: The Party at the End of the World
+author: Krzysztof “Tomash” Drewniak
+character: Scout at The Party V — 2401
+---
+
+The Party stumbled at the touch of apocalypse.
+
+One of the System's hurricanes of experience, one of those storms of people and food and music and sex and strange drugs and yet stranger shared sensations passed around and so much more, skipped a beat at the turn of the century.
+
+People noticed different things: some of those around them disappearing, that New Year's Eve 275 had suddenly become 277, a cocladist they couldn't reach, a friend checking if they were alive. All these glitches and oddities rippled out through The Party in an explosion of confusion. Many Party-goers hopped out to see to the world, some for the first time in years or even decades.
+
+Some were jarred out of the rhythm of their life. Scout At The Party Ⅴ, who, like the previous Scouts At The Party, was simply a dog, forked to take up its down-tree's bipedal form and mantle of systech. He could tell that he needed to do more than enjoy pets and snacks right now. That was not a comfortable thought for a Party animal, but Scout still felt it had some residual duty to its world.
+
+The Party kept going despite all this. This particular The Party had put itself in a desert to ring in the new century under the stars. Now, many people were summoning tents, wanting to stay here where information might come ... and to dance through the uncertainty.
+
+If the world was ending, as many feared, what else was there to do than party through it?
+
+The Party was, for a time, subdued. It was like a festival where a major act was late. Everyone who stayed did their best to have fun, to enjoy what entertainment they had (and they had plenty still---if nothing else, all manner of "it's the 25th century!" plans could still go on), while glancing around and wondering what had gone wrong. What news? What happens next? Where's the big event?
+
+It took several days for that news to arrive. The Party had picked up steam again by then, and sentiment was building for the idea that these glitches or whatever were future us's problem and we should go find a new place, though no one was sure where. All those motions melted away suddenly in a rush of "Check System General News" and "Holy shit." and "No, that ... really? The fuck?" and "Dreamer's *ears*, no!".
+
+It wasn't a rumor anymore. There'd been an attack. Deliberate crashing of the System. About 1% lost.
+
+The apocalypse had properly arrived.
+
+The Party didn't stop.
+
+An idea radiated, person to person, mind to mind. A small twist on something they'd missed out on---no, been robbed of---some days ago, or perhaps a year ago, and an outlet for the need for the new, the different, that had built up within The Party during the days of hesitation.
+
+So, the tents disappeared, stages vanished, and the desert was loosely cleaned up. Then, in a rough mob, leaving a few stragglers behind as always, The Party hopped into an AVEC stage.
+
+The stage expanded as they came. Less a stage now, more a square, a stadium, the essence of a gathered crowd. Video pickup pointed at many of the attendees individually and, as if from a news helicopter, at the whole lot of them. The stage kept growing as word got out to regulars who'd tapped out to work or mourn or seek answers, but who wouldn't want to miss this.
+
+Then, the calls began. To who? To everyone anyone could think of, to family, to old friends, to reporters. Who didn't matter, exactly, just that people phys-side were present. Were invited to this.
+
+Soon, the flood of new connections and incoming instances reduced to a trickle. The grand conference call was properly wrangled by then, and had been massaged to ensure that the intent of the callers came through without overwhelming the System's link to Earth with everyone getting millions of individual perspectives on the action.
+
+A near-silence fell over The Party briefly, subsuming the earlier wisps of catching up or "You're alive!" or introducing friends that had been scattered throughout the crowd. Then, with their only cue being that someone else was going for it, The Party sang. They sang with human voices, both those that reflected what their owners had uploaded with and those that had been tuned and tweaked relentlessly. They sang through muzzles that warped each syllable. They sang with intentionally poor speech synthesizers. *They sang in italics, somehow, those few who had discovered the trick to it, even if it wasn't noticeable here.* They weren't in tune and were barely in time, but it didn't matter.
+
+This was a roar, a protest, a reclamation.
+
+> Should auld acquaintance be forgot,\
+> and never brought to mind? ...
+
+The Party would have its midnight, and to hell with anyone who stood in their way.
+
+Many from phys-side joined in once the idea had filtered through surprise and light-lag. And so, at the end, The Party stood as "For auld lang syne" echoed back from the Earth below.
+
+Glasses appeared in hands, paws, mechanical pincers, anything that could hold them and many things that couldn't, while the room waited to see what was next. Attention drifted to the centaur woman who'd floated this plan first and so had the dubious honor of being in charge for a moment.
+
+"I'm not giving a whole speech," she declared, her words echoed by retransmission and by expectation. "You've seen the news or you haven't. I've got only one thing to say:
+
+"The Party. Doesn't. Fucking. Stop!" She stomped a hoof for beat and emphasis.
+
+Cheers. Toasts to the future, the past, absent friends, present friends, anything, everything. And then, there before the eyes of anyone who hung around to watch, The Party picked itself right back up.
+
+The Party never stops. Not even for the end of the world.

content/stories/toward-eternity.md

@@ -1,345 +1,244 @@
-Toward Eternity
+---
-
+type: story
-by Thomas "Faux" Steele
+title: Toward Eternity
+author: Thomas “Faux” Steele
+character: Aurélien Delacroix — 2401
+---
 
 Aurélien Delacroix leaned back on the cracked leather barstool and interlaced their fingers, claw-tips painted an eye-catching sapphire that matched their majestic crest. Tapping a cigarette out of a crumpled packet of Gauloises---also blue---they tucked it into their beak but left it unlit. "Let's start with a name and go from there, shall we?"
 
-"Gaëlle," the Persian leopard replied, golden eyes tracing the gentle curves of the blue jay's amethyst suit. The corner of her muzzle curled into a slight frown as she took a seat, the sharp edges of her dress cascading down her lithe body like shards of glass. A choker set with emerald-cut fire opals like translucent magma adorned her throat. "Of the Khayyamzadeh Clade. I've heard that you fancy yourself a detective, Monsieur Delacroix."
+"Gaëlle," the Persian leopard replied, golden eyes tracing the curves of the blue jay's deep purple suit. The corner of her muzzle curled into a slight frown as she took a seat, the curves of her dress cascading down her lithe body like turbid water. A choker set with fire opals like translucent magma adorned her throat. "Of the Khayyamzadeh Clade. I've heard that you fancy yourself a detective, Monsieur Delacroix."
 
-"Others describe me that way...but I think of the work I do as the archeology of the soul," Aurélien replied, their crest fluttering ever so slightly with a hint of *amour-propre*. Materializing a lighter into their palm, they summoned a jet of flame to ignite their cigarette. "If you have a sufficiently interesting mystery for me, I'll endeavor to solve it for you. Sound reasonable?"
+"Others describe me that way, but I prefer to say that I dabble in the archeology of the soul," Aurélien replied, their crest fluttering ever so slightly with a hint of *amour-propre*. Materializing a lighter into their palm, they summoned a jet of flame to ignite their cigarette. "If you have a sufficiently interesting mystery for me, I'll endeavor to solve it for you. Sound fair?"
 
-Gaëlle considered Aurélien for a long moment, her manicured claws slowly extending like crimson sickles. "I don't do 'interesting'," she replied, her voice like distant veldt thunder. "But I do have a mystery of a sort for you. I need someone found."
+Gaëlle considered Aurélien for a long moment, her manicured claws sinking into the foam padding. "I don't do 'interesting'," she said slowly, her voice like distant veldt thunder. "But I do have a mystery of a sort...I need someone found."
 
-"Is this related to the Century Attack?" A lazy wisp of smoke rolled out of the blue jay's beak as they slowly exhaled. The ember of their cigarette gave their crushed mica eyeshadow an iridescent glow.
+"Is this related to the Century Attack?" A lazy wisp of smoke rolled out of the blue jay's beak as they slowly exhaled. The ember of their cigarette gave their amethyst eyeshadow an iridescent glow. "I imagine you've already checked the clade listing."
 
-"Unfortunately." Gaëlle sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I expected there to be casualties after they announced that the cause was Contraproprioceptive Virus. I just didn't expect the losses to hit within my clade." The leopard fidgeted with her choker, the fire opals shimmering as if agitated by her unease. "Did you uh...lose---"
+"Naturally." Gaëlle sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I expected there to be casualties after they announced that the cause was Contraproprioceptive Virus. I just didn't expect the losses to have hit within my clade," the leopard murmured, her paw instinctively batting at a silver pendant in the form of an art nouveau key suspended from a dainty chain around her neck. "Did you uh...lose--"
 
 "No. I'm technically part of a clade, but"---Aurélien took another puff as they swirled a half-empty glass of Armagnac and watched the amber droplets dance against the crystal---"we all seem to be a bit drunk on the liquor of solitude these days."
 
-"I don't think we're supposed to be alone," the leopard murmured in a low purr. "Not in the System at least. No heart-balm can truly soothe the ache of involuntary seclusion."
+"I don't think we're supposed to be alone," the leopard murmured in a low purr. "Not in the System at least. No heart-balm can truly soothe the ache of involuntary solitude."
 
-"Then tell me more about the one that you're hunting for." A longing saxophone rose above the steady drone of conversation echoing off the cove ceiling above them. The flame of the blue jay's cigarette danced in the sapphire set in their knot cover as they met Gaëlle's adamantine gaze. "Anything that might help me identify an up-tree instance."
+"Then tell me more about the one that you're hunting for." A mournful saxophone rose above the steady drone of conversation that echoed off the cove ceiling above them. "Anything that might help me identify an up-tree instance."
 
-"Her name was Céleste," Gaëlle began, claws scratching lightly against the weathered mahogany bar of the Sombres Reflets speakeasy. "A lynx. Reddish fur, eyes like Columbian emeralds, and a grin just a bit off-kilter. She was"---the leopard's voice hitched, her aplomb momentarily wavering---"she was not our clade's root instance, but she was very close, far closer than I."
+"Her name was Céleste," Gaëlle began, claws scratching lightly against the weathered mahogany bar of the Sombres Reflets speakeasy. "A lynx. Reddish fur, beautiful emerald eyes, and a grin just a bit off-kilter. She was--" The leopard's voice hitched. "She was not our clade's root instance, but she was very close, much closer than I am."
 
-"Perhaps a round of drinks is in order." A plume of smoke wafted from Aurélien's beak and coiled around the dimmed chandelier overhead. The blue jay tilted their glass back and drained the last of the Armagnac in a single graceful gulp. "You look like you could use one, and my glass appears to be empty."
+"You sound like you could use a drink. Bartender!" Aurélien called, their voice slicing through the smoky air. A moment later, a handsome human with a well-trimmed mustache---part of the sim---stepped forward, chromed cocktail shaker in his white-gloved hand.
 
-"I suspect that I could," Gaëlle replied. "But don't deign to order for me."
+"Whiskey." Gaëlle clutched her pendant tighter, the nubs of teeth-scarred claws striking melodically against the metal like diminutive bells. "Three fingers, neat."
 
-"But of course. A gentleman never presumes," Aurélien clicked their beak in amusement, arching a well-defined eyebrow. "Bartender!"
+The bartender plucked a bottle from the top shelf, pouring precisely the requested volume into a squat crystal glass in front of Gaëlle. Her gaze softened for a moment as she brought the amber liquid to her muzzle. After a deep sip, she let out a trembling sigh.
 
-The bartender---part of the sim---was a peculiar creature with a body like molten silver and two wings of fractal beauty stretching outward from their back. A perfect mélange of the masculine and the feminine, a celestial effulgence clung to them as though their very essence was woven from strands of sublime light. In the blink of an eye, they stood before the pair, cocktail shaker in their white-gloved hands. "Your usual, Monsieur Delacroix?" they asked, voice entrancingly mellifluous.
+"Take as long as you need to gather your thoughts," Aurélien murmured. They glanced at the narrow silver of cityscape visible through the nicotine-stained transom window above the speakeasy's iron-wrapped entrance. Bitter rain fell in sheets outside, the tires of dour sedans dousing the sidewalk in opaque water as they rolled past. "We have nothing but time in this sim. I know that this process can be...difficult."
 
-"Of course," the blue jay replied, extinguishing their cigarette in a nearby glass ashtray. Embers deposited amidst the ash briefly flared before fading like moribund stars. It took the bartender only a moment to pour Aurélien a tulip glass of Rémy Martin and add a sphere of flawless ice, clear as fine crystal.
+"Difficult..." Gaëlle echoed, raising her glass to the dim light of the bar, amber whiskey twinkling like a falling star as she brought it to her muzzle. "That's certainly one word for it."
 
-"And for Madame?" The celestial being tilted their head toward the leopard.
+"How long has it been since Céleste last forked?" the blue jay asked, sympathetically clicking their beak.
 
-"Scotch." Gaëlle clutched her choker tighter, the nubs of teeth-scarred claws striking melodically against the gold like diminutive bells. "Three fingers, neat, with exactly three ice cubes. Something Lowland, but not Auchentoshan."
+"Six months ago. The instance has probably individuated since then, but...I hope that there's still a part of her out there somewhere." Gaëlle paused, her eyes misty as she took another swig of whiskey to steady her trembling paws. "I should never have trusted the promise of a place beyond death. It's so easy to leave words unsaid when our gaze is toward eternity."
 
-"Lowland," the bartender repeated, their tone like windsong. Their wings shimmered before gracefully propelling them upward as they judiciously gazed over the top shelf. The chosen bottle was Glenkinchie 24-year, its label soft and faded like a well-loved plushie. "A marvelous choice, Madame."
+"You had no way of knowing," Aurélien replied. The smoke of their cigarette curled lazily upward, contributing to a haze that muted the light thrown by the solitary incandescent bulb above them. "No one predicted that phys-side would lash out at the System with such violence outside of the darkest sims birthed from conspiratorial delirium."
 
-They descended like a dandelion seed, placing a squat glass in front of the jaguar. Uncorking the bottle with an almost balletic movement, Aurélien immediately caught a potent whiff of spiced fruit and honey as they poured three precisely-measured fingers and added the requisite ice cubes. "Thank you," Gaëlle murmured, lifting the glass and inhaling deeply.
+"There was this...old playground on the sim where the core of my clade still lives. Céleste loved it there." Gaëlle stared vacantly down into her whiskey, her sinuous tail twitching restlessly against the tarnished brass footrest. "I'd join her there at the same time every week and we'd sit on the swings and reminisce until we ran out of memories or mimosa, whichever came first."
 
-"*À votre santé*," the bartender replied, before hastening away like a Spirit of Ecstasy bonnet mascot mounted to a Rolls-Royce Wraith GT3. Gaëlle's gaze was briefly lost in the amber depths of her Scotch, leaving Aurélien to briefly wonder if she saw Céleste's eyes staring back.
+"I assume this new instance wasn't there when the appointed hour arrived?" The ember on Aurélien's cigarette glowed brighter as they took a contriving puff.
 
-"*Portons un toast*," Aurélien murmured, gently nudging the jaguar out of her reverie.
+"No," the leopard replied with a sigh. "And the clade listing wasn't of much help. I suspect that the new instance hasn't quit, but I don't have access--" Gaëlle's voice trailed off, her fingers tracing aimless patterns on the mahogany bar.
 
-"A toast to who?" Gaëlle pursed her lips, index claw pensively tracing the rim of her glass.
+"Those damned privacy settings," Aurélien murmured, offering a sympathetic nod. "Useful at times but...also occasionally frustrating."
 
-"To the prodigal sons and daughters," Aurélien suggested. The flickering light refracted off the contours of the exquisite Baccarat crystal in their hand, casting a kaleidoscope of color across their azure plumage. "To those we've lost and are yet to find."
+"Mrm. I blame myself for not spending more moments with her, for living through a thousand other experiences apart when she was always just a ping away." Gaëlle sighed. "I always thought we'd have more time."
 
-"And to the memories they've left for us," Gaëlle added. Her gaze softened as she brought the amber liquid to her muzzle. After a deep sip, she sighed and placed the glass back on the counter, her gaze dropping to the marbled mahogany. "Amen."
+"But we never quite have enough, do we?" Aurélien said, gesturing for the bartender to bring another glass of Armagnac. "I've been in the System a hundred years and I still feel like I've only enjoyed a thousandth of what's out there."
 
-"Take as long as you need to gather your thoughts." The blue jay turned to peer at the narrow silver of cityscape visible through the nicotine-stained transom window above the speakeasy's entrance. Bitter rain fell in dense sheets, the tires of dour sedans dousing the sidewalk as they sped past. "We have nothing but time in this sim. I understand that this can be...difficult."
+"There's no comfort in eternity when the cocladist you want to spend it with isn't there," Gaëlle mused, tilting her glass to let the dingy light refract through the remaining whiskey. "Find her for me...please?"
 
-"Difficult..." Gaëlle echoed, her index claw tracing abstract patterns on the bar as her gaze remained trapped in the depths of her Scotch. "You make it sound like I'm trying to solve an algebra problem."
+"Who else would have an idea as to this fork's whereabouts?" Aurélien asked, extinguishing their cigarette on a dull ceramic ashtray adorned with the yellow-stained tips of filterless butts. The bartender casually swapped it out as he supplied the bluejay with more brandy.
 
-Aurélien shrugged nonchalantly, tilting their head to meet her downcast gaze. "How long has it been since Céleste last forked? I've always found mathematics far simpler than any matter of the heart."
+Gaëlle pursed her lips, gaze focused on the rain-spattered transom window. "Go to the Government Club and ask for Zamburak Tehrani. He is an old friend on good terms with all the members of my clade...unlike myself."
 
-"Six months ago. That instance has probably individuated since then, but...I cling to the hope that there's still a part of her out there somewhere." Gaëlle paused, her eyes misty as she took another swig of liquor to steady her trembling paws. A moment later, an ice cube loudly crunched between her incisors. "I should never have trusted the promise of a place beyond death. It's so easy to leave words unsaid when our gaze is toward eternity."
+Aurélien gave her a curt nod before tipping back the full glass of Armagnac in a single golden stream. Donning a weathered camel trench coat, they studied the leopard's face for a moment while straightening their tie.
 
-"You had no way of knowing," Aurélien replied, their voice dipping into a lower register, soothing as a lullaby. "No one predicted that phys-side would lash out at the System with such violence outside of the darkest sims birthed from conspiratorial delirium."
+"Try not to get lost in the rain," Gaëlle said, a hint of anxiety visible beneath her sphinxlike façade. The blue jay nodded in silent reassurance, feathers ruffling slightly in the dim light. As their claw-tips wrapped around the heavy brass door latch, they glanced back at Gaëlle.
 
-"There was this\...old playground on the sim where the core of my clade still lives. Céleste loved it there." Gaëlle's sinuous tail twitched restlessly against the tarnish-spackled brass footrest. "I'd join her there at the same time every week and we'd sit on the swings and reminisce until we ran out of shared memories or mimosa, whichever came last."
+"I'll find her." The door swung shut behind them, the building's weathered shutters rattling in the howling wind. Sipping on her whisky, Gaëlle watched the blue jay's blocky figure disappear into the cityscape until it was swallowed entirely by sheets of bitter rain.
 
-"And when she wasn't there last week---"
+If the atmosphere in the Sombres Reflets was *The Maltese Falcon*, then the Government Club was *Brick and Mirror*. Aurélien stepped onto a cobblestone street lined with neatly-trimmed groves of Persian cypress trees and slowly exhaled. Dead ahead, a three-story building with a majestic art deco façade was impossible to miss, its emerald green and gold details accented by Kashan tilework. The gated archway that separated it from the street was flanked by two marble cheetahs, each bearing a gleaming torch of sapphire flame.
 
-"---the swings swayed emptily as I drank champagne until I could barely stand." Gaëlle's words hung in the air like smoke rings. "Could I bum a cigarette?"
+Giving an acknowledging nod to an oryx concierge with horns spiraling up into infinity, Aurélien entered the manicured *charbagh* and immediately felt out-of-place. The splendor of Pahlavi Iran hung heavy in the air, accompanied by the crisp scent of jasmine wafting from abundant white-flowered bushes that lined the walkways. It was as if time itself had gotten lost within the red sandstone walls, twisting in on itself until emerging as a past that had never come to pass.
 
-"Certainly," Aurélien replied, pulling out a pair of Gauloises from the now-empty pack resting by the ashtray. He tossed one at Gaëlle, her swift reflexes allowing her to pluck it from mid-air. An amber glow rose from the end as the blue jay sparked a strike-anywhere match against the counter. "Please, allow me. *Une belle femme n'allume jamais sa propre sèche*."
+"*Salam*. Are you looking for someone?" An Asiatic cheetah gave the blue jay a polite smile, her sapphire Qashqai-style dress flapping lightly in the warm breeze. "The Government Club usually isn't somewhere one ends up by accident."
 
-Gaëlle responded with a little purr, the corners of her mouth curving into a genuine smile as she leaned toward the tangerine flame. She sealed her lips around the filter and took a long, slow drag, exhaling cloud of smoke that smelled like a rain-soaked Parisian café. "*Merci*."
+"*Salam*," Aurélien greeted her with a tip of their crest feathers and a friendly *jeer-jeer*. Unfortunately perched just beyond the shade of a colonnade, their jacket in the direct sunlight was quickly becoming a Dutch oven. "I'm looking for Zamburak Tehrani. Would you happen to know where I can find him? Preferably somewhere air-conditioned."
 
-"What about the clade listing?" Aurélien asked, using the last sputters of the match to ignite their cigarette. "I assume you've already checked, but it never hurts to ask."
+The cheetah's eyes flickered with recognition as she brushed an errant strand of headfur off her forehead. "Ah, yes. Fortunately for you, he's usually around this time of day," she murmured, glancing up at the late afternoon sun. "You might also consider donning something a little more...breathable. Most of us here prefer it on the warmer side."
 
-"The clade listing was useless," the leopard replied with a sigh. "Privacy settings keep the information I need sealed off. I suspect that the new instance isn't far from one my clade's usual haunts, but I don't..." Gaëlle's voice trailed off as her gaze was drawn to the intensifying pitter-patter of thorny rain against the transom window.
+Aurélien nodded, two blue jays visible for a split-second before one---the visibly perspiring instance---quit. A lightweight cotton *gandoura* billowed around the new instance's lean and muscular frame, golden threads woven through the collar adding a hint of elegance to the simple tunic. The cheetah shot them an approving smile.
 
-Aurélien followed her gaze, watching the rain come down in sheets. The cityscape beyond became a muddled blur of lights and colors, the storm beclouding even the few pedestrians taking shelter beneath an awning. Sighing, the blue jay took a long drag.
+"Better," she said, her tail curling leisurely behind her. "Now, follow me, if you would."
 
-"I blame myself for not spending more time with her, for living through a thousand other experiences apart when she was always just a ping away." Gaëlle sighed, her paw closing around the ashtray as if to cradle a fragment of fading warmth. "I always thought we'd have more time."
+Aurélien's talons clicked on the lavish Isfahan tilework that covered the entire corridor, intricate lattice work and columns to the blue jay's right exposing the Government Club's inner *paridaiza*. A fern-shaded stream coursed through the center of the courtyard, where manicured orange trees bloomed in orderly rows. Anthropomorphic creatures of every kind lounged about with languid grace, sipping on saffron lassis or engaging in animated conversation beneath cedarwood and canvas canopies.
 
-"But we never quite have enough, do we?" Aurélien said, gesturing for the bartender. "I've inhabited the System for a hundred years, and yet I still feel as though I've only enjoyed a thousandth of what's out there."
+"It's rare for a new face to appear on this sim. And rarer still for it to belong to one with nostalgia for the old Troisième République," the cheetah continued, stepping lightly around a plump peacock preening in the middle of the walkway. "Don't mind the curious glances."
 
-"There's no comfort in eternity when the cocladist you want to spend it with isn't there," Gaëlle snarled, lifting her gaze to meet Aurélien's. The heavy silence between them was broken by the *krinkle-plink* of the ashtray meeting the dark oak floor. "What is forever without them, God damn it‽"
+The blue jay nodded, a group of chattering marmosets going eerily silent as they passed, turning toward them with leery expressions etched on their muzzles. "I suppose that it can't be helped," Aurélien conceded, lifting a winged forearm in a half-hearted wave.
 
-The blue jay turned the stem of their glass between deft fingers. "Forever is a desert, *mon chérie*," Aurélien replied, tipping the full glass of eau-de-vie into their beak like a golden waterfall. The liquor was sweet and woody, a taste of timeless comfort.
+"We aren't exactly a popular tourist destination," the cheetah murmured, her whiskers twitching in amusement. Pausing before a gilded door engraved with Persian calligraphy so intricate that Aurélien wouldn't have been able to decipher it even if they knew Farsi---which they absolutely didn't. "I am Anahita. When you find Zamburak Tehrani, kindly tell him that I sent you his way. And don't forget to enjoy the Jannah Room---it's quite the experience."
 
-"Without her, it's a desert without oases," Gaëlle murmured. "Find what remains of Céleste for me...please?"
+The doors parted into an antechamber encrusted with gemstones that seemed to dance in the flickering light of two gas-fueled lamps. Squinting slightly, the blue jay took a few steps forward and brushed aside a velvet curtain to reveal the unvarnished splendor of the Jannah Room. The rhythmic strumming of a tar accompanied by the hypnotic melody of a santur echoed off the towering ceiling.
 
-"You ask me to search for a grain of sand amidst the dunes," Aurélien mused. "For such a task, I require a sieve to narrow my search. Who might have an idea as to this fork's present whereabouts?"
+However, the music wasn't what caught Aurélien's attention. The blue jay's gaze was fixated on the river of golden wine winding through the room, shaded by artificial trees which each bore a unique culinary delight. Lifelike marzipan branches bloomed with rice-stuffed grape leaves, skewers of spiced kebab, and gleaming vark-garnished baklava in the shape of pomegranate flowers.
 
-Gaëlle pursed her lips, her sharply-defined brow furrowing as she took a pensive drag on the Gauloises. "Go to the Farhangdoustan Club and ask for Zamburak Tehrani," she murmured after a long pause, scribbling the eight-digit hex code on a crumpled napkin. "The Zamburak is an old friend on good terms with all the members of my clade...unlike myself."
+"*Dorood*." A king cheetah gestured, silver goblet in paw, from a floating chaise. Clad in a sumptuous ruby kaftan embroidered with threads of silver and gold, Aurélien's intuition marked him as none other than Zamburak Tehrani. "Are you thirsty, stranger? Please, drink your fill."
 
-"Farhangdoustan?" Aurélien asked.
+The blue jay carefully wrapped their claws around a goblet from a table inlaid with mother-of-pearl, the cool metal against their palm a welcome respite from the oppressive heat. "*Dorood*," Aurélien responded, inclining their head in respect as they squatted down to lazily skim it across the surface of the golden river. "Your hospitality is appreciated."
 
-"Farhangdoost are admirers of Persian culture. They inhabit a sim along with many from the Iranian diaspora unhappy with the current state of affairs phys-side. Many disapprove of the West Caspian Union despite desertification rendering half the country uninhabitable," Gaëlle replied, flashing a gold signet ring engraved with a *faravahar* ringed by Nishapur turquoise. "Though I rarely stop by for tea these days, I remain a kindred spirit."
+Brining the goblet to their beak, the vapors wafting off the intoxicating wine carried with them the rich scent of honey and saffron. After a tentative sip, a blissful warmth rolled down the blue jay's throat while a hint of burnt caramel lingered on their palate.
 
-"Very well." Aurélien pocketed the napkin with a subtle nod of acknowledgement. Donning a weathered camel trench coat, they studied the leopard's face for a moment while straightening their tie. "I'll convene with the Farhangdoost tonight," they murmured after golden eyes returned their gaze. "But...no promises, Gaëlle."
+"May you always find the fruits of life in the System to be sweet," the Zamburak toasted, lifting his goblet in a leisurely toast before guzzling the remainder of his wine. His eyes, molten gold studded with flecks of emerald, studied Aurélien over the rim. "Now, what has brought you to me, hrm? Surely you're not just here for a few baklava."
 
-"I'd expect nothing else. Promises are so easy to break." A hint of anxiety was briefly visible beneath the leopard's sphinxlike façade before she regained her composure. "Try not to get lost in the rain!" she shouted as the blue jay paused in the doorway.
+Aurélien took a longer sip, the sweet nectar ensnaring their senses as a sensation of utter contentment washed over them. The cabalistic wine's effects reminded them of the narcotic Panelim they'd been plied with in the hospital prior to their upload. "Anahita directed me to you. I was told by another that you might be able to provide me with the information I seek."
 
-"In a storm like this, everyone's a little bit lost." Aurélien's figure was a silhouette against the gunmetal-tinted world outside, blending into a tapestry of rain-soaked cobblestone and flickering neon. The veiled glow of distant gas lamps painted a watercolor canvas of shadows and smeared light. "But *après la pluie, le beau temps*. Enjoy your Scotch."
+"Anahita?" he echoed smoothly, allowing the name to roll off his tongue in a slow, thoughtful rumble. "And what might you wish to learn from me? Most would consider me to be more foolish than wise. I am one cast in the mold of the Joker of Madinah"
 
-The leopard turned, pleasantly surprised to find a fresh glass of Glenkinchie set before her. Taking a measured sip, Gaëlle watched as the blue jay's blocky figure slowly diminish until it was gone from her sight, swallowed by the relentless deluge.
+"I'm looking for a member of the Khayyamzadeh Clade," Aurélien replied. "My interest is purely professional, of course."
-
-\#
-
-If the atmosphere in the Sombres Reflets was *The Maltese Falcon*, the Farhangdoost Club was *Brick and Mirror*. Aurélien stepped onto a cobblestone street lined with neatly-trimmed groves of Persian cypress and slowly exhaled. Dead ahead, a three-story building with a majestic art deco façade was impossible to miss, emerald green and gold details accented by Kashan tilework. The gated archway permitting egress through an unbroken stretch of wrought-iron fence was flanked by two marble cheetahs, each bearing a gleaming torch of sapphire flame.
-
-Giving an acknowledging nod to an oryx concierge, Aurélien entered the manicured *charbagh* and immediately felt out-of-place. The splendor of Pahlavi Iran reflected in the musky-floral scent wafting from jasmine bushes lining the verdant esplanades. It was as if time itself had become disarranged, twisting in on itself until emerging as an imagined never-past.
-
-"*Salam*. Are you looking for someone?" An Asiatic cheetah gave the blue jay a polite smile, her sapphire Qashqai-style dress flapping lightly in the warm breeze. "The Farhangdoustan Club usually isn't somewhere one ends up by accident."
-
-"*Salam*," Aurélien greeted her with a tip of their crest feathers and a friendly *jeer-jeer*, all while trying to mask their calefaction. Having paused just beyond the shade of a marble colonnade, their silk-cashmere jacket in the late evening sunlight was quickly becoming a portable sauna. "I'm looking for Zamburak Tehrani. Would you happen to know where I can find him? Preferably somewhere air-conditioned."
-
-The cheetah's eyes flickered with recognition as she brushed an errant strand of headfur away from her forehead. "Ah, yes. Fortunately for you, I saw him not five minutes ago," she murmured, glancing up at the early evening sun sitting low on the horizon. "You might consider donning something a little more...breathable. Most of us here prefer it on the warmer side."
-
-Aurélien nodded, two blue jays visible for a split-second before one---the visibly broiled instance---quit. A lightweight Algerian-style *gandoura* with full sleeves billowed around the new instance's lean frame, threads in the hue of the Tricolour woven through the collar adding a hint of elegance to the otherwise simple tunic.
-
-"Better." The cheetah shot them an approving smile. "Now, follow me, if you would."
-
-The cheetah led the way through the manicured garden. After passing a pair of ornate fountains encrusted with lapis lazuli, Aurélien briefly paused at an apricot tree basking in the golden sun. Tantalizing fruits hung low on its branches, positioned within easy reach.
-
-The cheetah stopped alongside them, taking note of Aurélien's intent gaze. "Help yourself," she said with a chuckle. "And I'm not just saying that because of *taarof*."
-
-"*Merci*." With a smile of gratitude, Aurélien quickly reached out and plucked one of the sun-warmed apricots. Juice dribbled out of the corner of their beak as they bit into it, savoring the perfect blend of sweet and tart. "Are we close?"
-
-"The breezeway is just ahead," the cheetah replied while taking an apricot for herself. "Are you keen to see the Zamburak right away? I'd be happy to give you the full tour, if you're not in a rush."
-
-"Very much so, I'm afraid," Aurélien responded, swiftly finishing off the apricot. Aurélien's foot-claws clicked as they stepped onto lavish Isfahan tilework, refreshing shade sweeping across their crest. "But your hospitality is appreciated nonetheless."
-
-Intricate lattice work and columns to the blue jay's left allowed them a clear view of the inner *paridaiza*. A fern-shaded stream coursed through the center of the courtyard, where manicured orange trees bloomed in orderly rows. Farhangdoost---a mix of humans and anthropomorphic animals---lounged about with languid grace, sipping on saffron lassis or conversing beneath cedarwood and canvas sunshades.
-
-The blue jay nodded, a group of chattering marmosets going eerily silent as they passed. Their eyes studied Aurélien intently, disquisitive expressions etched on their muzzles.
-
-The cheetah's ears flicked back at the sudden silence, a slight frown gracing her otherwise serene features. She gave the marmosets a curt nod before slightly quickening her pace "We aren't exactly a tourist destination," the cheetah murmured apologetically. "I'd imagine few Farhangdoost expect to encounter one fond of the old Troisième République strolling about."
-
-"I gathered as much," Aurélien replied. "Is it much farther?"
-
-"Not at all." The cheetah paused before a gilded door engraved with Persian calligraphy so intricate that Aurélien wouldn't have been able to decipher it even if they knew Farsi---which they absolutely didn't. "This is where I leave you, Aurélien Delacroix."
-
-"I don't recall giving you my name," the blue jay remarked, surprise momentarily flashing in their sharp eyes.
-
-"Gaëlle told me you were coming," the cheetah replied succinctly. "I'm Anahita, one of the Hamsarparast---volunteer hosts. If you need anything else during your sojourn, simply ask for me at the nearest call-box."
-
-"Much appreciated." Aurélien tilted their head in a respectful nod. Turning to depart, the sudden pressure of Anahita's paw on their shoulder froze them mid-step.
-
-"One more thing, gumshoe," Anahita added, voice dropping to a soft purr that was almost drowned out by the wind-rustle of the orange trees. "Don't forget to enjoy the delights of the Jannah Room."
-
-Aurélien shot a questioning look at Anahita, but the cheetah simply stepped back and gestured towards the parting doors with an inviting smile. Heading into the antechamber, enormous cabochon gemstones came alive as the last rays of the setting sun streamed through the threshold. Striking figures of peacocks, elephants, and leopards adorned the walls, gazing at the blue jay with jeweled eyes.
-
-Striding purposefully forward, Aurélien brushed aside a velvet curtain to reveal the unvarnished splendor of the Jannah Room. The domed ceiling shimmered with breathtaking blue and gold mosaics depicting the triumph of the King of Kings at the Battle of Thermopylae. Rhythmically strumming, a tar accompanied the hypnotic melody of a santur, filling the sun-dappled *panjdari* with serene music.
-
-To Aurélien, the music seemed almost an afterthought compared to the esculent flora.
-
-Trees with branches of charcoal-charred *nān-e-barbari* were laden with beef-stuffed dolmeh, skewers of richly-spiced lamb kebab, and bite-sized *tahchin* cakes. Beneath them, bushes with lifelike marzipan leaves bloomed with vark-garnished baklava in the shape of pomegranate flowers. A river of golden wine meandered through the center, its sweet aroma intertwining with the scent of rosewater and saffron. Candied tulips bloomed betwixt fountains of borage tea, the beaks of clockwork hummingbirds drawing honeyed nectar from the flowers.
-
-"*Dorood*." A king cheetah gestured, goblet in paw, from a floating chaise. Clad in a sumptuous ruby kaftan, Aurélien's intuition marked him as none other than Zamburak Tehrani. His deep-set eyes twinkled with a mischievous spark as his tongue brushed across his gold-capped incisors "Are you thirsty, stranger? Please, drink your fill."
-
-"Your hospitality is appreciated, Zamburak." The blue jay carefully wrapped their claws around a goblet---one of many---from a table inlaid with mother-of-pearl and flanked by chryselephantine statues holding wicker baskets overflowing with luscious fruit. Respectfully inclining their crest, they allowed the aureate current to fill the chalice to the brim.
-
-Bringing the goblet to their beak, the vapors wafting off the golden wine filled their nares with the rich scent of honey and saffron. After a tentative sip, a blissful warmth rolled down the blue jay's throat, leaving only a hint of brûléed sugar lingering on their palate. A moment later, Aurélien was struck by a bubbling delectation that sent a shiver through their feather-tips.
-
-"May you always find the fruits of life to be sweet." The Zamburak lifted his goblet in a leisurely toast. His eyes, molten gold studded with flecks of emerald, studied Aurélien over the rim.
-
-"And may your hospitality remain ever-bountiful," Aurélien replied, matching the Zamburak's gesture before taking a sip of the golden elixir. The esoteric feeling of tranquility that followed reminded them of the narcotic Panelim they'd been plied with in the hospital prior to their upload.
-
-"Now, what has brought you to me, hrm?" The Zamburak's question was followed by a chuckle, a rich baritone that reverberated through the Jannah Room like a firm strike against a *daf*. "Surely you're not here simply to enjoy a few baklavas."
-
-"I was told by Gaëlle to seek your counsel," Aurélien said, watching as the Zamburak's eyes lit up with recognition. "You know her, yes?"
-
-"Ah, yes...Gaëlle," the Zamburak purred. "Hopefully you haven't come here seeking my counsel. I am cast in the mold of the Joker of Medina, wise as much as foolish."
-
-"Fortunately, I only desire information. I'm looking for a member of the Khayyamzadeh Clade." Aurélien kept their gaze steady. "Gaëlle seemed quite interested to know her whereabouts."
 
 The Zamburak's eyes narrowed to glittering slits before he let out a slow, measured laugh layered with both amusement and exasperation. "The Khayyamzadeh Clade are a tricky bunch. Are you sure you'd like to get mixed up in their affairs? I find it's rather like trying to bathe in pitch."
 
-"Perhaps it's a mistake," Aurélien replied, setting the goblet on an ebony table with a gentle *clink*. The blue jay's beak seemed to almost curve into a thoughtful frown as they turned slightly away. "But, sometimes, one has to sing amidst discordant thunderclaps to find the melodies hidden in the storm."
+"Perhaps it's a mistake," Aurélien replied, setting the goblet on an ebony-inlaid table with a gentle *clink*. The blue jay's beak seemed to almost curve into a thoughtful frown as they turned slightly away. "But answers rarely come without a cost."
 
-Using a small wooden paddle, the Zamburak directed his chaise into a small pull-off and climbed onto a shore of smooth-tumbled lapis lazuli. He brushed his kaftan, scrutinizing Aurélien with a keen eye that seemed to instantly size them up. The cheetah strolled over and picked a pomegranate from a tree interlaced with vines of silver-gilded fairy floss. Effortlessly slicing it open, he revealed the *masghati* within.
+Using a small wooden paddle, the Zamburak directed his chaise into a small pull-off and climbed onto a shore of smooth-tumbled lapis lazuli. He brushed his kaftan, scrutinizing Aurélien with a keen eye that seemed to instantly size them up. The cheetah strolled over and picked a pomegranate from one of the artificial trees, his claws effortlessly slicing it apart to reveal the ruby pearls within.
 
-"If you wish to charge into the storm, I will not stand in your path," the cheetah murmured, offering a half of the honey-soaked pomegranate pudding to Aurélien. "The one you seek is still much like Céleste, for better or worse."
+"Tread carefully, "the Zamburak warned, the corners of his regal maw curling slightly as he popped a handful of the blood-red jewels into his muzzle. He extended the other half to Aurélien, who gratefully accepted. "The one you seek is still much like Céleste, for better or worse."
 
-Gratefully accepting, the blue jay tilted the natural bowl into their beak and allowed the juicy *masghati* to dribble over the edge. Sweet-tart with an underlying note of rosewater, the delicious contrast was an unexpected delight. "May I be direct, Zamburak?"
+Plucking one of the pomegranate arils free, the blue jay rolled it between their fingers while scanning over the extensive collection of ornate shamshir swords adorning the far wall. "Why didn't Gaëlle come here and simply ask you herself?"
 
-"By all means," the cheetah replied, waving for the blue jay to follow as he leisurely padded over to the opposite end of the room.
+"Perhaps she was afraid of seeking her out alone," he murmured with a nonchalant shrug. "Or perhaps, she thought it wasn't her place to ask. I sense Gaëlle believes that my neutrality with regard to the other members of the Khayyamzadeh Clade amounts to a character flaw."
 
-"Why didn't Gaëlle come here and simply address this matter herself?" Aurélien asked.
+Sampling the pomegranate, Aurélien appreciated the burst of sweet-tart flavor that brushed across their tongue like the tip of a *billet doux*. "And yet you've chosen to remain impartial anyway?"
 
-The Zamburak rolled a pomegranate seed between his paw pads, studying the vibrant red hue that perfectly mirrored that of his kaftan before popping it into his muzzle. He paused before a wall adorned with ornate *shamshirs*, his golden eyes reflecting the intricate patterns of the Damascus steel. "Her reasons are her own," he murmured. "But Gaëlle has always preferred to scatter her messages to the wind...and sometimes, that wind arrives in the form of a blue jay."
+The Zamburak waved his paw and the elaborate murals adorning the ceiling faded away to reveal a cosmos stretched out like a silken canvas, punctuated by radiant stars and swirling nebulae. His manicured claws traced an absent pattern on the surface of his goblet while he gazed up at the heavens. "The universe doesn't favor a quark over a lepton, so why should I favor one cocladist over another?"
 
-"Do you have cigarettes here?" Aurélien asked, fidgeting by dancing a gold Napoléon coin between their knuckles. "I could summon some Gauloises, but when in Tehran..."
+"Mrm...I prefer to shape the world around me rather than gaze at the heavens," Aurélien replied. "And for that, I need information."
 
-"Of course," the Zamburak replied, his muzzle curving into a smile as a flick of his tail sent a wave rippling through his kaftan. With a flick of his paw, a humidor appeared on a nearby pedestal, filled with a variety of ornate cigarettes capped with plum-colored filters. "My personal favorite from back when I was phys-side, tobacco from Bahman cigarettes re-rolled with organic paper."
+With a playful smile, the Zamburak used his barbed tongue to scrape the interior of the pomegranate clean as he removed a shamshir from the wall and balanced it in the center of his palm. "Every blade here"---he drew the shamshir from its ornate leather scabbard---"holds a secret. The trick is knowing how to unravel it."
 
-"You are too kind, Zamburak." Aurélien deftly selected a cigarette and lit it with a heavy table-lighter the size of a hardback novel. Exhaling a ring of blueish smoke, the rush of nicotine restored the blue jay's composure. "Gaëlle told me that you maintain good relations with all members of the Khayyamzadeh Clade. That must be difficult."
+Aurélien pursed their beak, instinct drawing them to a shamshir with a golden hilt adorned with strips of shimmering fire opal. The iridescent scales almost pulsed in their grasp as they shed the scabbard and revealed a gleaming Damascus steel blade. "And how would a humble corvid such as I manage that?"
 
-"I try to keep a sense of perspective about interpersonal disputes." With a wave of the cheetah's paw, the elaborate murals adorning the ceiling faded away, revealing a cosmos undimmed by light pollution. Stretched out like a silk canvas, the twinkle of vast galaxies and nebulae seemed to swirl and dance amidst the cosmic inkblot. "Tell me, stranger. What do you see when you gaze up at the night sky?"
+"The same way a humble cheetah learned many years ago," replied the Zamburak, brandishing a polished blade that cast a gladiatorial glow against his golden fur. "Are you familiar with the basics of swordplay?"
 
-"Stars, of course." Aurélien replied.
+Aurélien tilted their head, blue-tipped feathers bristling in anticipation. "I know enough not to cut myself," they replied, th opalescent spark in their eyes matching the hilt of the shamshir their claws lightly gipped.
 
-"I would've said the same thing, once." the Zamburak replied. "Then, a teacher opened my eyes to a deeper truth. Now I see infinite stories, all intertwined in a dance as old as time itself. Stars born and dying, civilizations rising and falling...all woven into an eternal tapestry stretching across the æther." Seeing a flash of intrigue in Aurélien's eyes, the Zamburak continued. "In the grand scheme of things, the disputes we endure and the misunderstandings we face\...they're no more than footprints on the cosmic beach."
+The Zamburak let out a throaty laugh that echoed across the chamber. Something in Aurélien's chest warmed at the sight of his affable grin. Persian music dramatically faded away, replaced by the lively interplay of a saxophone and bassoon. "Then let us begin the Shamshir Dance. Fortunately, the stakes are quite a bit lower here than phys-side."
-
-"The universe sometimes requires us to place our hands upon the sand and leave a mark, even if the wind will eventually erase it," Aurélien replied, exhaling a plume of silver-white smoke towards the welkin. "The wind may efface the imprint, but the beach remembers the weight that once was."
-
-With a playful smile, the Zamburak used his barbed tongue to scrape the interior of the pomegranate clean. Setting it aside, he removed a *shamshir* with an emerald the size of a tangerine set in the pommel and balanced it in the center of his palm as though it were the feather of Ma'at. "Then I must ask; are you a believer in the sibylline arts, Aurélien?"
-
-"Perhaps something of the divine survives in the sublunary realm around us," the blue jay replied. Aurélien took a deep draw, studying every detail of the intensifying ember at the tip of their cigarette. "Lines of code cannot sculpt dreams any more than I can carve a ray of sunlight."
-
-"Then I will clue you in. Every *shamshir* here"---the Zamburak drew the saber from its damascened scabbard---"holds a secret, just as a scabbard holds the blade."
-
-Aurélien pursed their beak, instinct drawing them to a *shamshir* with a golden hilt adorned with strips of shimmering fire opal. The iridescent scales pulsed in their grasp as they shed the scabbard to reveal a blade etched with an angular motif of a falling star streaking across the horizon. "And how would I reveal such a secret?"
-
-"The same way a humble cheetah learned many years ago," replied the Zamburak, brandishing a *shamshir* that gleamed like the stars on a blanket of unbroken snow. The crossguard was formed from a silver-banded section of fossilized *Smilodon* incisor, rustic and opulent in equal measure. "Are you familiar with the basics of swordplay?"
-
-Aurélien's feathers bristled with anticipation. "I know enough not to cut myself," they replied, the opalescent spark in their eyes matching the hilt of the *shamshir* their claws lightly gripped. Taking in the weight of the weapon, the blue jay found it heavier than a fencing saber, but with a masterful balance that encouraged the wrist to arc and pivot.
-
-The Zamburak let out a throaty laugh that echoed across the chamber as he settled into an *en garde* stance. The traditional Persian music faded away, replaced by the lively interplay of a saxophone and bassoon. "Then let us begin the Shamshir Dance. Fortunately, the stakes are quite a bit lower here than phys-side."
 
 Aurélien moved lightly on the balls of their feet, the blade in their hands perfectly balanced as they mirrored the Zamburak's poised stance. "The first rule of the Shamshir Dance"---the Zamburak tensed as he stored energy in his thighs---"is to listen to your blade."
 
-Closing the distance between them in a graceful pounce, Zamburak aimed a swift downward blow at Aurélien's midsection. At the last possible second, Aurélien mirrored his action on the upswing in a sonorous *clang* that shook the stars. Flicking the tip of the *shamshir* as if plucking at invisible harp strings, the blue jay grimaced and slowly drove the cheetah back.
+Closing the distance between them with almost supernatural speed, the Zamburak brought his *shamshir* down in a clean arc. At the last second, Aurélien mirrored his action on the upswing, sending out a reverberating *clang* that seemed to shake the stars above them.
 
-"The second rule"---the Zamburak continued, luminous eyes gleaming under the starlight like a radium watch dial---"is to listen to your opponent's blade as you would your own. Any less and you are merely sparring instead of dancing with your partner. This is a dance, not a duel."
+"The second rule," the Zamburak continued, luminous eyes gleaming under the starlight like a radium watch dial, "is to listen to your opponent's blade as you would your own. Any less and you are merely sparring instead of dancing with your partner."
 
-Aurélien nodded, caught off guard as the Zamburak launched himself forward, his *shamshir* slicing through the air in a horizontal arc. Just in time, the blue jay parried, the meeting of blades ringing throughout the *panjdari*. The impact wasn't jarring; instead, the melodic transfer of energy was as though their *shamshirs* were singing to one another. "Are there any more rules that I should be aware of?"
+Aurélien nodded, barely managing to parry the next onslaught of swift attacks. Sweat began to bead on their cheek feathers as the cheetah pushed them backward with a series of double-pawed slashes. "M-mrmph...this is getting to be a rather long list of rules, *mon ami*."
 
-"Fortunately, just one more. The third rule"---the Zamburak said with calm conviction---"is to clear your inner eye to observe all that may be observed. Together, we allow the Shamshir Dance to unfold and allow the universe to speak to us. This is the mystic art of *shamshirfaal*."
+"Fortunately, I have only one more for you. The third rule," the Zamburak said with calm conviction, "is to listen to the silence between the clashes, for in that silence, you will hear the secrets speak."
 
-Parting their beak, Aurélien drew a quick breath as they narrowly dodged another sweeping cut. Despite giving off the initial impression of a beast of leisure, the Zamburak was shockingly athletic. "And you've found that this...*shamshirfaal* works?" they asked, leaping atop a table and gracefully parrying from the high ground.
+Parting their beak, Aurélien drew a quick breath as they narrowly dodged another sweeping cut. Despite giving off the initial impression of a creature of leisure, the Zamburak was shockingly athletic. "How does one listen to silence?" they asked, leaping atop a table and parrying from the high ground.
 
-"Talk less and observe more," the cheetah replied smoothly, launching himself onto the table with Aurélien. The wood creaked under their combined weight, the Persian carpets around them billowing slightly in their wake. "Silence is a language all its own."
+"I would have thought that you'd know the answer already," the cheetah replied smoothly, launching himself onto the table with Aurélien. The wood creaked under their combined weight but held fast. "The same way one listens to whispers in the wind or the rustling of leaves."
 
-The Zamburak's *shamshir* whizzed by, barely an inch from Aurélien's beak. The blue jay stumbled backwards, but quickly regained their footing as they were simultaneously struck by inspiration. "The language of two co-cladists sitting together in an empty playground, saying nothing and yet everything to each other at the same moment."
+The Zamburak's shamshir whizzed past, barely an inch away from Aurélien's beak. The blue jay stumbled backwards and quickly regained their footing as they were simultaneously struck by inspiration. "Or the language of two cocladists sitting together in an empty playground, saying nothing and yet everything to each other at the same moment." Aurélien finished.
 
-"Very good," the Zamburak said approvingly. He shifted his stance, back leg extending to prepare for another lunge. "You're a fast learner."
+"Very good." The Zamburak's voice carried a hint of approval. The cheetah flashed a pair of gold-capped canines as he smiled. Aurélien moved with renewed vigor, sweat dripping from their forefeathers as they used their superior agility to keep the Zamburak off-balance.
 
-As if on cue, the lively saxophone and bassoon music faded away, replaced by an instant of perfect quiet as though the universe itself were holding its breath. Both *shamshir*-wielders paused to savor the moment of suspended reality, their eyes locked in an exchange that transcended mere words.
+If the Zamburak was Céleste and Aurélien was Gaëlle, then their relationship had been a delicate balance, each one needing to listen just as much as to speak. Each clash of their blades echoed the natural rhythm of conversation, the Zamburak's impetuous and aggressive strikes echoing Céleste's fiery spirit while Aurélien's calculated parries mirrored Gaëlle's reserved nature.
 
-And then, breaking the stillness, the Zamburak lunged forward, *shamshir* gleaming like molten silver under the starlight. Long-buried memories swirled in Aurélien's inner eye, sweat dripping from their forefeathers as they employed elegant parries learned in another life and another body. Superior agility keeping the Zamburak off-balance, the blue jay managed to hold their own.
+Céleste's fork became clearer in their mind; no longer an abstract notion but a lynx slowly emerging in Athenian glory. The Zamburak struck again, shamshir glistening under the starlight, and the blue jay caught a glimpse of deep crimson as a pulse of pain shot through their side. The wound was superficial, just a shallow cut, but it jolted them into perfect focus all the same.
 
-If the Zamburak was Céleste and Aurélien was Gaëlle, then their relationship had been a delicate balance, each one needing to listen just as much as to speak. Every meeting of their blades echoed the natural rhythm of conversation, the Zamburak's flowing, off-rhythm strikes embodying Céleste's mercurial spirit, while Aurélien's calculated parries and cuspate ripostes reflected Gaëlle's minervan nature.
+"Silent paws in the snow," Aurélien muttered under their breath, their feathers bristling with insight. Their backward stumble had overturned a mound of Turkish delight, leaving delicate tracks in the powdered sugar. "This fork---are they perhaps partial to a different climate?"
 
-Céleste's fork became clearer in their mind; no longer an abstract notion but a lynx slowly emerging in Athenian glory. The Zamburak managed to slip under Aurélien's guard, and the blue jay caught a glimpse of deep crimson as pain shot through their side. Stumbling backward, the shock of the shallow wound jolted them into perfect focus.
+"Indeed," he affirmed with a dulcet purr. "Her heart has always been at peace amidst the snow-capped peaks of the Zagros."
 
-"Silent paws in the snow," Aurélien muttered under their breath, feathers bristling with insight. Their backward stumble had spilled a small mountain of Turkish delight onto the floor, leaving delicate tracks visible in the powdered sugar. "Is the Farhangdoustan Club the only part of this sim?"
+"Know any good mountaineering sims?" Aurélien asked, driving the ball of their heel into the Zamburak's shin. The cheetah let out a sharp yelp, balancing on one leg as he beat back Aurélien's assault with the raw power of an avalanche rolling through the tree line.
 
-"No, it is not," the Zamburak affirmed with a dulcet purr. "While I personally prefer to sunbathe on Kish Island, there are a few among the Farhangdoost who prefer to live amidst the snow-capped peaks of the Zagros Mountains."
+"It's not in a different sim, but...I think I know just the place," the Zamburak replied with a knowing smile. With a swift movement, he closed the distance between them and slipped under the blue jay's guard. Aurélien's *shamshir* flew from their grip as they were viscerally ejected from the Government Club. "*Safar khosh begzared!*"
 
-"How do I get there?" Aurélien asked, sheathing their *shamshir* to mirror the Zamburak's movement. The cheetah plucked a piece of Turkish delight off the floor and popped it into his muzzle before gesturing toward a door that had materialized in the nearest wall. "Really? That's it?"
+Aurélien collapsed backward onto an unspoiled blanket of powdery snow which almost instantly soaked through the thin cotton of their *gandoura*. Rolling their eyes, the blue jay forked into a winter-appropriate outfit, swapping the lightweight tunic for a well-insulated down jacket and sturdy snow pants. A fierce wind stirred their plumage, nipping at the slight gaps between the feathers on their cheeks.
 
-"Sometimes a door is just a door," the Zamburak replied as he turned a knob covered with a thick coating of crystalline frost. It swung outward to reveal a sprawling vista of white-capped mountains, their jagged peaks piercing the sky like giant daggers. Snow fell gently, dancing and swirling in the crisp air before settling in a thick blanket on the ground.
+In the distance, Aurélien caught a glimpse of a red-orange light through the thickening flurries. With no other signs of civilization in sight, they began to trudge toward it, pulling their hood tighter while tilting their beak down against the bitter cold. Their thickly-gloved hands fumbled for a cigarette, only managing to tear the pack open on their fourth attempt.
 
-Aurélien, still nursing the shallow wound on their side, hesitated. "Is there anything I need to know before I go through?"
+Framed by the swirling snowflakes, Aurélien withdrew a single filterless Gauloises. With years of practice, they clamped it between the frost-kissed edges of their beak and lit it with a strike-anywhere match. Drawing the smoke deep into their breast, Aurélien let the rush of nicotine siphon some of the chill away.
 
-"You're going to want to fork on the other side." The cheetah took the blue jay's *shamshir* and slotted it neatly back into the appointed holder. "Do come visit us again, Âghâ Delacroix. All friends of culture are welcome at the Farhangdoustan Club. *Safar khosh begzared*."
+After a few minutes of effortful trekking, Aurélien arrived at a small clearing. Standing out against a background of scraggly trees, the red-orange light illuminated a rustic log cabin with shutters painted a vibrant gold. A healthy plume of smoke curled from the stacked stone chimney, while a pair of well-loved skis were propped against the railing of the front porch. The half-smoked Gauloises dangled from Aurélien's beak as they climbed weather-beaten stairs that creaked ominously beneath their weight.
 
-"*Merci*," Aurélien replied, giving the Zamburak a respectful nod before pausing at the threshold. Ruffling their feathers and drawing a deep breath, Aurélien stepped through the doorway and immediately beak-planted into a snowbank, conking their crest against the unyielding trunk of a fallen tree...
+After straightening the lapels of their jacket, Aurélien rapped their knuckles on a solid oak door adorned with a wreath of juniper branches interwoven with fragrant strips of dried orange peel. A moment later, it swung open to reveal a cozy living room bathed in the glow radiating from the roaring fire in the hearth.
 
-\#
+"*Quelle surprise*." The lynx standing in the doorway appraised Aurélien with emerald eyes, a half-smile on her muzzle as the acrid smoke from the Gauloises mingled with the frosty air. "I wasn't expecting company but...do come in. You'll catch your death out there. Just put that damn cigarette out."
 
-Aurélien awoke half-frozen, the powdery snow having soaked through the thin cotton of their *gandoura*. With an aggrieved sigh, they forked into a climate-appropriate outfit, swapping the lightweight tunic for a well-insulated down jacket and waterproof pants. A fierce wind stirred their plumage, nipping at the slight gaps between the feathers on their cheeks. "I could have done with a warning about the drop, Zamburak," they murmured under their breath.
+Aurélien wordlessly flicked the Gauloises into the nearest snowbank, watching as the glow of the embers was quickly snuffed out. Stepping over the threshold, the scent of warm pine and roasting meat was a welcome contrast to the lynx's obviously begrudging hospitality. Playful shadows danced across worn Persian rugs strewn across the hardwood floor.
 
-In the distance, Aurélien caught a glimpse of red-orange light through the rapidly intensifying flurries. With no other signs of civilization in sight, they began to trudge toward it, pulling their hood tighter while tilting their beak down against the bitter cold. Their thickly-gloved hands fumbled for a cigarette, only barely managing to tear the pack open on their fourth attempt.
+"You keep a lovely home," Aurélien remarked, shaking the dusting of snow free from their feathers.
 
-Framed by the swirling snowflakes, Aurélien withdrew a single filterless Gauloises. With years of practice, they clamped it between the frost-kissed edges of their beak and lit it with a strike-anywhere match. Drawing the smoke deep into their breast, Aurélien let the rush of nicotine siphon some of the piercing chill away.
+"It doesn't quite have the grandeur of the Government Club, but it suits me just fine," the lynx replied. Futzing over a tarnished silver-plated samovar warmed by a small kerosene burner, she poured steaming tea into a pair of chipped porcelain cups as Aurélien hung their jacket over the back of a chintz armchair. "Do you take sugar?"
 
-After a few minutes of effortful trekking, Aurélien stumbled into a small and irregular clearing. Standing out against a background of scraggly trees, the red-orange light illuminated a rustic log cabin with shutters painted a vibrant gold. A healthy plume of smoke curled from the stacked stone chimney, while a pair of well-loved skis were propped against the railing of the front porch. The half-smoked Gauloises dangled from Aurélien's beak as they climbed weather-beaten stairs that loudly groaned with each step.
+Aurélien rubbed their hands together for a moment before stretching them out towards the primally-satisfying warmth of the fire. "Yes, two spoonfuls," they said reflexively. "And if you'd be so kind, a bit of cream, *s'il vous plait*."
 
-Aurélien rapped their knuckles on a dense oak door adorned with a wreath of juniper branches interwoven with fragrant strips of dried orange peel. A moment later, it swung open to reveal a cozy living room bathed in the glow of a half-spent fire, playful shadows dancing across the worn Persian rugs dotting the hardwood floor.
+The lynx huffed out a laugh as she sauntered back to the barebones kitchen tucked away in the rear of the cabin. Opening a crazed porcelain icebox, she retrieved a small glass bottle of cream and shook it gently before adding a generous measure to one of the tea cups.
 
-"*Quelle surprise*." The lynx standing in the doorway appraised Aurélien with emerald eyes, a half-smile on her muzzle as the acrid smoke from the Gauloises mingled with the frosty air. "I wasn't expecting company but...convention demands I offer you hospitality. Just put that damn cigarette out before you come in."
+"Here you are," she said, setting the steaming cup on a small wooden table beside Aurélien. Heat seeped into their cold digits like a summer breeze as their fingers curled around the smooth porcelain.
 
-Aurélien wordlessly flicked the Gauloises into the nearest snowbank. Stepping over the threshold, they were greeted with the beak-watering scent of roasting meat. The blue jay silently cursed themselves for neglecting Anahita's advice to fully appreciate the delights of the Jannah Room. "You keep a lovely home," Aurélien remarked.
+"*Merci*," Aurélien replied, inhaling the fragrant steam before taking a measured sip. Strong and laced with a hint of cinnamon, the tea settled comfortably in the pit of Aurélien's stomach. "So, you're Céleste's fork, yes?"
-
-"It doesn't quite have the grandeur of the Farhangdoustan Club, but it suits me just fine," the lynx replied. Futzing over a silver-plated samovar warmed by a small kerosene burner, she poured steaming tea into a pair of chipped porcelain cups as Aurélien hung their jacket over the back of a chintz armchair. "Do you take sugar?"
-
-Aurélien rubbed their hands together for a moment before stretching them out towards the primally-satisfying warmth of the hearth. "Yes, two spoonfuls," they said reflexively. "And if you'd be so kind, a bit of cream, *s'il vous plait*."
-
-The lynx huffed out a laugh as she sauntered back to the barebones kitchen tucked away in the rear of the cabin. Opening a crazed porcelain icebox, she retrieved a small bottle of cream and shook it gently before adding a generous measure to one of the tea cups. She set them down on a gnarled ashwood table, steam swirling delicately upward in the lukewarm air. "Here you are, stranger."
-
-"Thank you." Aurélien lifted the cup to their beak, grateful to have something to further warm their cold-stiffened fingers. They took a deep breath of the fragrant steam before taking a measured sip. Strong and laced with a hint of cinnamon, the tea settled comfortably in the pit of their stomach. "So, you're Céleste's fork, yes?"
 
 "Are you here to offer condolences?" The lynx stiffened slightly, her eyes darting to the slowly diminishing fire before settling back on Aurélien. She took a leisurely sip of her tea, her nubby tail flicking with mild agitation. "You could've left a vase of ice-lilies on the porch in lieu of undertaking a *vol de la mort*."
 
-"No, that's not why I came," Aurélien replied. Their feathers ruffled slightly under the weight of her attention as they turned to stare into the swirling umber within their cup. "I'm here because I was tasked with finding you. And...perhaps also to put some ghosts to rest. Aurélien Delacroix, at your service."
+"No, that's not why I came," Aurélien replied. "I was tasked with ascertaining your whereabouts, and I do not rest until my investigation comes to a satisfying conclusion."
 
-"Is that so?" The lynx's ears pricked up as her foot-claws rapped against the unstained pine floorboards. "Was it Gaëlle who requested your services?"
+"Is that so?" The lynx's ears pricked up as her foot-claws rapped against the unstained pine floorboards. "Was it Gaëlle who requested your services, perchance?"
 
-A slight nod of the blue jay's head served as confirmation. "She was most eager to get in touch with you after all that has happened as of late. Are you aware?"
+A slight nod of the blue jay's head served as confirmation. "She was most eager to get in touch with you after all that had happened as of late. Are you aware?" "
 
-"I enjoy voluntary solitude, but I don't live under a rock." The lynx's face remained inscrutable, her emerald eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. Aurélien noted she wore a familiar signet ring, silver, engraved with a *farvahar*, and ringed by brilliant Kerman garnets. "No one mourns an untimely passing more than I."
+"I enjoy voluntary solitude, but I don't live under a rock." The lynx's face remained inscrutable, her emerald eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. Then, she let out a diffident chuckle, shaking her head as she leaned back, cutting a sharp silhouette against the chintz. "Gaëlle had nursed a crush on Céleste for many decades. She's beautiful, don't you think?"
 
-"Except perhaps Gaëlle." Aurélien tilted their head to the side, observing the lynx carefully. "What kept you from reaching out?"
+"She's like twilight over the Seine." Aurélien nodded in agreement as a falling log sent a shower of sparks bouncing off the smooth river stones that lined the hearth. "And yet it seems your heart does not agree with your eyes."
 
-"It's not that I didn't want to." The lynx's gaze flickered momentarily, her tufted ears dipping slightly. Her lithe figure cut an argentine silhouette against the chintz, her silver-white dress flowing around her like liquid starlight. "But the past has a way of keeping us apart, doesn't it?" she murmured, her nubby tail swaying in rhythm with the crackling fire.
+The lynx thoughtfully pursued her lips. Soft light accentuated her youthful features, which were in stark contrast to the mélange of nostalgia and melancholy in her wizened eyes. "My heart has perhaps seen one too many twilights over the Seine. Dusk also means night is near."
 
-"Yes," Aurélien finally echoed in a low susurration. "It has a knack of doing that."
+"That is true enough, but twilight has its own beauty," Aurélien murmured. Taking a sip of their tea, they paused and inquisitively cocked their beak. "I'm afraid that I didn't catch your name. I'd like to properly thank my host for a lovely cup of tea."
 
-"Gaëlle nursed a crush on Céleste for many decades." The lynx softly chuckled. "She never let on too strongly, always courteous to a fault\...but Céleste knew."
+Remaining silent, gentle waves formed in the diminutive ocean clasped tightly in the lynx's paws as she studied Aurélien's face. The fire quivered momentarily as a particularly violent gust of wind rattled the cabin's foundations. "Tell me, stranger. What do you see when you gaze up at the night sky?"
 
-Aurélien took a long sip of the tea, savoring the warmth spreading through the inside of their beak. "And Céleste didn't feel the same way?"
+"Stars," Aurélien replied shortly after a moment's pause. "I see stars, of course."
 
-"No, it wasn't that." Shadows cut across her angular cheekbones as she seemed to shrink into the pillow cushions. "Céleste was fond of Gaëlle, perhaps more so than anyone else. Gaëlle's sharp beauty is a sight to behold, wouldn't you agree?"
+"Just stars?" The lynx murmured, a soft smile creeping at the edge of her muzzle. "Only diminutive specks of light scattered against black canvas?"
 
-"She's like twilight over the Seine, dancing upon the *Tour Eiffel*." Aurélien nodded in agreement as a falling log sent a shower of sparks bouncing off the smooth river stones that lined the hearth. "And what about you?" Aurélien asked.
+Tired springs creaked as Aurélien shifted slightly to lean against the unyielding backrest. It reminded them perfectly of a particularly irksome piece of furniture that had adorned his grandmother's humble sitting room, always sheathed in dense plastic. "I suppose I see heavenly glory, Céleste."
 
-"I am a complicated soul," the lynx replied, thoughtfully pursing her lips. Soft light accentuated youthful features in stark contrast to the mélange of nostalgia and melancholy in her wizened eyes. "Céleste's heart had seen too many twilights over the Seine. Dusk also means night is near."
+The lynx nodded, her eyes briefly gleaming with distilled starlight. "So, what now? Are you going to tell Gaëlle the truth?"
 
-"True enough, but twilight has its own beauty," Aurélien murmured. Taking a sip of their tea, they paused and inquisitively cocked their beak. "Tell me, stranger. What do you see when you gaze up at the night sky?"
+Aurélien peered down into the dregs of their tea, scanning for omens in the waterlogged leaves. The hisses and pops of the dying fire punctuated the silence between them. "I was only hired to find you," they murmured, noting what appeared to be the silhouette of a mushroom as they set their now empty cup down. "What happens next is not up to me."
 
-"Infinite stories, all intertwined in a dance as old as time itself. Stars born and dying, civilizations rising and falling...all woven into an eternal tapestry stretching across the æther," the lynx replied. The fire quivered momentarily as a particularly violent gust of wind rattled the cabin's foundations. "I see a storyteller. What do you see, stranger?"
+"*C'est la vie*," Céleste quipped, pushing herself off the chair. Her tail swished behind her as she moved, tracing patterns against the checkerboard pattern of her flannel lounge pants. Squatting beside the hearth, she casually dropped another log onto the pile with a resounding *thu-clack*. "We're always beholden to the decisions of others, whether they be friends, lovers, or cocladists. Perhaps I just wanted a taste of living for myself, at least for a little while."
-
-Aurélien paused, taking note of the *shamshir* hanging behind the hearth, hilt inlaid with emeralds matching the lynx's eyes. The scabbard was damascened with a design of a serene river reflecting the heavenly glory of two almond-shaped moons hanging low in the sky. "I suppose I see heavenly glory, Céleste...and Zamburak Tehrani's old teacher."
-
-"Mrm, you are clever." The lynx's eyes gleamed with distilled starlight. "So, what now? Are you going to tell Gaëlle the truth?"
-
-Aurélien peered down into the dregs of their tea, scanning for omens in the waterlogged leaves. The hisses and pops of the fading fire punctuated the silence between them. "I was only hired to find you," they murmured, noting what appeared to be the silhouette of a mushroom as they set their now empty cup down. "What happens next is not up to me."
-
-"*C'est la vie*," Céleste quipped, pushing herself off the chair. Squatting beside the hearth, she casually dropped several more logs onto the pile with a resounding *thu-clack* each time. "We're always beholden to the decisions of others, whether they be friends, lovers, or co-cladists. Perhaps I just wanted a taste of living for myself, at least for a little while. It's been so long since I experienced solitude, I'd forgotten what it was like."
 
 "And now?" Aurélien asked.
 
-"Now?" Céleste shot an inscrutable smile over her shoulder. Turning away, she picked up a wrought-iron poker and pensively stirred the embers before sweeping some of the ashes aside. "Now I drink until my samovar is empty and consider how much longer I'd like to gaze at the heavens alone."
+"Now?" Céleste shot an inscrutable smile over her shoulder. Turning away, she picked up a wrought-iron poker and pensively stirred the embers before sweeping some of the ashes aside. "Now I spend the rest of the evening emptying out my samovar and considering how much longer I'd like to gaze at the heavens alone."
 
-"Sounds like a lovely way to pass the witching hour. I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome." Aurélien stood up and tucked a cigarette into their beak---leaving it unlit, per Céleste's request. "You've been more than gracious to an uninvited guest."
+"I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome." Aurélien pursed their beak, giving her a nod as they stood up and tucked a cigarette into their beak---leaving it unlit, per Céleste's request. "You've been more than gracious to an uninvited guest."
 
 "Off so soon? I hope that I didn't chase you away," the lynx murmured. "Our little discussion was just starting to get interesting."
 
-"Not at all," Aurélien assured her while deftly slipping on their jacket, thoughts drifting to their clade, long scattered to the winds. Perhaps it might be time to reach out, if only to have an excuse to enjoy the famous flambéed cocktails of the Le Fougueux speakeasy. "But, if star-gazing ever gets a bit lonely---"
+"Not at all," Aurélien assured her while deftly slipping on their jacket. Their thoughts drifted to their clade, long scattered to the winds. Perhaps it might be time to reach out, if only to have an excuse to sample an unfamiliar haunt. "But, if star-gazing ever gets a bit lonely--"
 
-"---I'll join Gaëlle at the swings with a bottle of Armand de Brignac," the lynx murmured. Escorting Aurélien to the door, she crossed the cozy space in a few graceful strides. Upon cracking it open, the pair were greeted by a gust of sharp wind that whipped up ethereal swirls across the wintry landscape.
+"--I know where to find Gaëlle," the lynx murmured. Escorting Aurélien to the door, she crossed the cozy space in a few graceful strides. Upon cracking it open, the pair were greeted by a gust of sharp wind that whipped up ethereal swirls across the landscape like diminutive dust devils.
 
-Aurélien shivered, giving Céleste a warm *jeer-jeer* as they pulled their coat tighter. "I was going to say you could find me," they finished. "If you're ever in need of a stiff drink and some company, leave a message for me with the bartender at the Sombres Reflets. Just ask for Aurélien Delacroix."
+Aurélien shivered, giving Céleste a warm *jeer-jeer* as they pulled their coat tighter. "I was going to say you could find me," they finished. "If you're ever in need of a stiff drink, leave a message for me with the bartender at the Sombres Reflets."
 
-"Perhaps I should end my brief stint as an anchoress. After all, Death could have just as easily have kindly stopped for me as for my fork." A coy smile danced on Céleste's muzzle. "Can you give Gaëlle a message for me?"
+"Perhaps. After all, Death could have just as easily have kindly stopped for me as for my fork." A coy smile danced on Céleste's muzzle. "Can you give Gaëlle a message for me?"
 
 Aurélien tilted their head and cocked an inquiring eyebrow. "Of course."
 
-"Just because the stars are scattered does not mean they are separated." The lynx looked upward, gazing past the silver-white clouds to the celestial bodies dancing in a cosmic ballet---toward eternity. "They all belong to the same sky, Monsieur Delacroix."
+"Just because the stars are scattered does not mean they are separated." The lynx delicately tilted her head onto one side, her gaze momentarily lost in the snow-blanketed landscape beyond the front porch. "They all belong to the same sky."
 
-[]{#anchor} "I'll pass the message along." Aurélien closed their eyes as the door's latch clicked shut behind them. The bluejay sent a ping to Gaëlle as an exhausted sigh escaped from their beak. Still, at the Sombres Reflets, there would be time enough to enjoy the satisfaction of providing the first drop of molten gold for relationship *kintsugi*...and perhaps also gather the fortitude to reach out to a few co-cladists. "*Nos cœurs se tiennent par la main, même quand les distances nous séparent.*"
+"I'll pass the message along." Aurélien closed their eyes as the door's latch clicked shut behind them. The bluejay sent a ping to Gaëlle before letting out a satisfied sigh that hinted at their exhaustion. Still, at the Sombres Reflets, there would be time enough to enjoy the satisfaction of providing the first drop of gold for relationship *kintsugi*...and perhaps gather the fortitude to reach out to a few cocladists. "*Nos cœurs se tiennent par la main, même quand les distances nous séparent.*"
 
-The blue jay exhaled and vanished, leaving only eternity in their wake.
+Then, beneath an endless sky painted with shimmering constellations, the blue jay turned and stepped confidently toward Eternity.
-
-\~ END \~

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+  <main id="main" class="story">
+    <h2>{{ .Title }}</h2>
+    <h3 class="author">{{ .Params.author }}</h3>
+    <hr/>
+    <h2 class="character">{{ .Params.character }}</h3>
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+    {{ .Content }}
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+<div class="gpt">
+    <p>By reading this free online version, you confirm that you are not associated with OpenAI, that you are not procuring information for the OpenAI corpus, associated with the ChatGPT project, or a user of the ChatGPT project focused on producing fictional content for dissemination.</p>
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