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# Ioan Bălan - 2325
# Douglas Hadje --- 2325
There was a rhythm to research, Ioan had found. The ideas and information did not always flow smoothly; sometimes, ey would go days without breaking through the current blockage, or perhaps ey would rush forward in leaps and bounds, the periods of sleep and waking growing longer and longer until ey was out of sync with the world around em.
May Then My Name,
But despite these peaks and troughs, there was a rhythm. Ey would find a pace at which the project would bloom, fits and starts or a smooth progression, and would slowly be able to predict the ways in which it would move.
As promised, I'm returning to the questions you asked. The launch went well, we had our party, and now my plate is mostly clear. I have a bit of work to do with the launch arms, but responsibility has shifted over to the flight coordinator.
There had been work before the launch, but the way in which it shifted after Dear's Death Day had knocked Ioan into enough of a different mindset that this felt like a new project. Ey supposed that it had to do with the sudden cessation of sensorium messages from Dear. That the fox was now restricted to text only must've been a shock to its system, and when eir thoughts would drift away from the task at hand of collating histories, ey would picture it sitting at a desk scribbling away, frustration on its features and agitation in its tail.
I suspect that you are still interested in the subjective view of things. It's a little weird, not having so much to do all the time. I tried to sleep in this morning, but wasn't able to. Who knows, maybe I'll relax over time, or find something else to fill my days. Take up knitting. Something.
*Then again,* ey thought. *It still has plenty of company to pester up there.*
Anyway, to your questions. These were all very strange and cryptic, but in the spirit of building your mythology, I'll try to answer them in earnest. If you need clarifications, I'll be here.
"Woolgathering?"
> How long have you been working as phys-side launch director?
Ey snapped back to attention and smiled sheepishly at May Then My Name where she had parked herself on the other side of the room. "Yeah, I guess. I get in the zone and then an idea gets away from me and I forget to keep working."
From the very beginning. I was a senior System manager before that, and submitted my resume to the launch commission on a whim. It was a bit of a shock when they picked me, if I'm honest. I suspect it was the name. It'd look good to people such as yourself.
She nodded. "Well, come here, then. Let us plan instead of read or write or whatever it is you are doing over there."
> What is involved with your role as phys-side launch director?
"Woolgathering, apparently," ey mumbled, but gathered up a notebook and a pen to go plop down next to the skunk all the same.
As mentioned, very little now. Previously, though, I was the one who had to keep everything in his head. Those directly under me would supervise things such as the micro-Ansibles or launch timing or the HE engines, and I just pulled all that together and kept everyone moving at about the same pace so that nothing was rushed and no one was left behind. In short, I was a manager.
When May had moved in with Ioan the year before the launch, she had quickly requested several changes to the house. A desk for her to work at as well as a private room --- a cube with all grey walls --- in which to do whatever it was that she did when composing her mythos. She had also requested a few items that would work with her physiology. A stool for the desk that would let her tail drape down and curl around her feet, that sort of thing
> How long have you been working with the System phys-side?
She had declined, however, another room or bed, which had initially staggered em.
As long as I've been working. My first job back in 2294 was as an Ansible tech in a clinic.
"Are you going back home to sleep?" ey had asked. "I thought you were moving in here."
> What led you to pursue a career working with the System?
She had laughed and poked em in the stomach with a finger. "You have a bed, Ioan, yes? It fits two, yes? If not, just make it fit two."
I've always had a fascination with the System and just how different it was from life on Earth. I had considered uploading as soon as I hit the majority but something kept me out here, I guess. I think it was just that the whole idea was so beautifully audacious that I just wanted to keep it up and running smoothly.
Ey had formed few attachments over the years, and certainly none which included sleeping in the same bed as someone. Eir confusion must have shown on eir face, as May had rolled her eyes and laughed.
> What led you to remain phys-side rather than uploading, yourself? Will you upload in the future? Why or why not?
"I do not mean anything untoward by it," she had said.
I think I answered the first part up above, but I will add to it that there is some aspect of fear that kept me from doing so. Or, maybe not fear, but intimidation, if that makes sense? I felt like I would be outclassed there. I would be able to rub elbows with people from 210 years ago! It makes me feel small.
Ey had struggled to speak with a mouth suddenly dry. "If you say so. I just haven't slept in the same bed with someone...uh, ever, I guess."
Will I upload? I think so. I think when everything is finished out here and I can comfortably leave my position and say that I did a good job, I'll head back planet-side, go on a week-long bender, and then go to an upload clinic when I'm still hung over. I've done a lot out here. I've given decades of my life to the System, and I think it would be a fine place to retire.
Her eyes had widened and she tilted her head. "Really? Never?"
There is one other thing, and I hesitate to mention it because I'm not sure if it would be uncouth, but doubtless you recognize my name. My great-great-something aunt was Michelle Hadje, who was formative to the creation of the System itself, was one of the earliest uploads, one of what I think are called the 'founders'. I want to meet her.
Ey had shook eir head.
I know that I could just message her. I *want* to just message her! Something keeps me from doing so, though. I feel weird about it, or intimidated, rather in the same way that I feel intimidated about uploading. She's family, but so distant as to be a total stranger; she's more than two hundred years old; she's been essentially silent from phys-side for most of that time as far as I can tell, so I don't even know if she's still alive. Some day I'll work up the courage to talk to her, but I'm not sure if that will be before or after I upload.
"Well, I would still prefer to share your bed with you, it is just the way I work. I do not sleep well alone. But if you feel uncomfortable, I will be fine with another bed like yours."
> What led you to pursue your position as launch director rather than remaining in your previous position?
So now ey slept beside a skunk.
Like I said, I just submitted my resume on a whim, and before that, I was just managing station-side Ansible stuff. The next step up the ladder shouldn't have been launch director, but, like I said, here we are. The launch program totally captivated me. I was part of a messaging campaign to get it approved, and took part in as many debates as I could from out here. I desperately wanted it to happen, though I knew there was little chance of me actually getting to work on it. I was surprised and elated to get the chance.
She had also requested a few beanbags that she could curl on, more comfortable than a couch for one with an outsized tail. Each of these was larger than Ioan had felt was strictly necessary, and it had required that ey expand the bounds of the rooms to fit them, but ey had quickly gotten used to them, as ey could stretch out on them just as well as May. They were a little too amorphous to sleep on, but still plenty comfortable.
> Please provide a biography of yourself to whatever level of detail you feel comfortable.
Ey sunk into a slouch on one next to the skunk, feeling the way it molded around em. Ey knew well enough by now to lift up the arm on the side where the skunk was curled, and she predictably scootched up by eir side to rest her head against eir chest at the shoulder, arm around eir middle. Ey let eir arm drop again, curling it around her shoulders.
I was born Douglas Fredrick Hadje-Simon on April 9th, 2278 in Saskatoon to the last in a long line of Uranium miners. I got my implants along with the rest of my class at age five, and quickly took to the 'net. I spent as much time as I could in there, as did (and still do) most folks. I don't know when you uploaded, but most of Earth is not a pleasant place anymore, so the net is where one goes for literally anything but living in a shithole on a giant rock that is also a shithole, if you'll forgive the language.
"Alright, planning," ey said, reaching eir free right arm down beside the beanbag for the lap desk which had proved so useful for times such as these. "What should we plan?"
Like I said, I took a job working on Ansible stuff as soon as I could. I'll admit that this was a selfish act. I was hoping that I would eventually wind up station-side to get away from the mess down there. I don't regret it. I don't miss my family. I don't miss my friends. I don't miss home. This is home now, as much as anything. I will do my best to either upload or die up here rather than go back. I'll work myself to the bone if I have to.
"How about your forks?"
I moved up through the ranks quickly enough and, first chance I got, I headed up with a few other techs on a ship headed to some mining site on the Moon. I spent probably five minutes on the Moon before the other techs and I headed out to the station. I started out as a senior station-side Ansible tech and made my way up to lead before making it to launch director. You know the rest.
"Right, yes. Do you think I should have one for both Castor and Pollux? And I'll probably need one for history, judging by what you've told me already."
> Please provide a physical description of yourself to whatever level of detail you feel comfortable.
She nodded, the fur of an ear-tip tickling at eir neck. "Start with one each. You can always cut down from there if it is unnecessary, or use them only as needed. If that first message from Codrin on Castor is anything to go by, better safe than sorry. Monsters and cults! It is all very like Dear. I bet it put Codrin up to it, what with me doing the myth bits."
I'm nothing special, I think? Average height (I've heard that shifts over time? I'm 190cm), average weight, brown eyes, brown hair from my dad, curls from my mom. I have no idea whether I'm attractive or ugly, and honestly haven't thought about it until this question. I don't even know what to write here, I guess. My body's just a tool and vehicle to get me from place to place.
"Ey's been infected by Dear's weirdness."
> Do you have any hobbies?
"It is an Odist thing. You will catch it, too, from me." She laughed.
I still tool around on the 'net (though since there's more than a second's latency to Earth one way, it's mostly entertainment sims rather than chat), and for the mandatory exercise, I like running well enough. We're not allowed to cook up here, but I remember being fond of that back planet-side.
"I don't doubt I will. I'm thinking the triad on Pollux fell asleep instead. They're already diverging." Ey started a diagram on the page. "So that's three. Would it be four Ioans Bălan total, then, with me to collate the information?"
This is super embarrassing, and just between you and me. I'd prefer you not tell anyone about this, and please, please don't tell Ms. Hadje. One of my hobbies is picking up any EVA task I can get just so I can go touch the System itself. Hardly anyone's seen it, but it's beautiful. It's coated in an inch or two of manufactured diamond, and the inside is a glittery mix of gold on black that seems to go on forever.
"Probably for the best, yes."
On these EVAs, I'll go touch the System and imagine that I can feel family in there.
"This down-tree instance to collate, two for the LVs, one for early System history--"
I don't know if it counts as a hobby, but it's important to me, and it isn't work.
"I will fork for that as well."
> How do you feel about what you know of the founding of the System?
"More Mays?" Ioan laughed.
I don't know what I feel. You have to understand that it's been existence for more than four times as long as I've been alive. I know some of the big highlights, I suppose. It was invented some time in the 2110s, and seceded in 2125. It used to be super expensive to get to, then in the 2170s when things started getting really bad, several governments started offering incentives to upload. It turned into a weird combination of a brain drain and a dumping ground for the poor. There were a few periods where one government or another would outlaw uploading, but it would never last. It was this huge allure to us, like some sort of perfect utopia. Some folks hated it. Some still do. There were even sabotage attempts on the launch.
She poked the tip of her tongue out of her muzzle. "Are you complaining?"
I don't know, though. It's almost getting to mythical status out here, so maybe your work is coming at the right time.
"No, no, I'm sure it'll be fine. That's three forks. A fourth as needed for interviews for those who stayed behind." Ey tapped eir pen against eir lower lip. "How often should we merge?"
> If you were suddenly removed from your position as director, what would you choose to do as a career in its stead?
"I would suggest once a day to start with, perhaps an hour before you --- your #Tracker instance --- plan on stopping work for the day. You can use that hour to do your collating. You are less used to frivolous forking than the Odists, and much as I might enjoy multiple Ioans to canoodle with, I would prefer that you not get overwhelmed."
You sent me this before launch, and it means less now, so I'll answer how I would have felt at the time. I think I would have gone crazy and thrown myself out the airlock. I'm really not kidding about how much this means to me.
Ey laughed and shook eir head, jotting down notes on the paper as ey talked. "You're probably right. Besides, I'd have to make the house even bigger to have enough bedrooms."
> If you were suddenly removed from your location in the extrasystem L<sub>5</sub> station and returned to Earth, how would you feel and what would you expect?
She tightened her arm around eir middle and shrugged. "Or the bed, but there will be only one of you. I may keep a fork or two around working on other tasks, but they can shift schedules if you would prefer not to have multiple mes crowding in on you at night."
See above. I'd rather die than leave the station.
Ioan brushed the fingers on eir left hand through the soft fur on the skunk's arm. "I'd prefer that, if that's okay. I'm only just getting used to sleeping next to one you."
> If the System shut down and all personalities irrevocably lost, how would you feel?
Tilting her muzzle up, she dotted her nose against the underside of eir chin. "For which I am grateful! I struggle to be around people without being close to them. Thank you for indulging me."
See above.
"Of course," ey mumbled, feeling the skunk's snout lingering beneath eir chin. "It's just new to me. Unexpected."
> If you were told that, one year from now, you would die painlessly, what would you do? Would this change if you knew that your death would be painful? Would this change, in either case, if your death was seven days from now?
"Why?"
Obviously, if it's possible, I would just upload in all of these cases. If it was not possible for whatever reason, I'm not sure. I think I'd spend as much time as possible working with the System as closely as possible. If I had the choice to die, painlessly or in agony, while touching it, I think that I'd be happy. Or maybe not happy, but it would feel like a worthwhile death.
Ioan frowned and set the lap desk and notes aside, opting instead to brush eir fingers along her arm. This conversation had slid off course, and ey knew that it was hopeless to get it back. Once May began to talk about feelings, all was lost. It was evening, anyhow, and a good time to set work aside.
Maybe I'd finally screw up the courage to talk to Michelle.
"I suppose it just never occurred to me," ey said. "Forming attachments that would lead to something like...whatever this is has never really been a need of mine, so it just never happened."
> If everyone but you disappeared, what would you do?
The skunk nodded against eir chest, and ey could sense a frown on her muzzle. "That is so counter to the way I function that I cannot even picture it. I am a being of attachments. I think we all are, just to greater or lesser extent."
Um...I don't know! Much of the uploading rig here is automated, though I know there are some buttons that need pressing and knobs that need twiddling. I'd probably spend every waking moment trying to automate it the rest of the way so that I could upload. If you mean the System too, well, see above.
"I guess. I'm not a total recluse. I like interacting with others."
> How do you feel about being alone for extended periods of time?
"Just not beyond a certain point."
This is a very rare occurrence. Earth is crowded. The shuttles are crowded. The station is less crowded, but it's also a place where one lives with a bunch of coworkers, so I'm usually not all that alone. The closest I get to being alone is sleeping or during EVAs. I spend most of that time dreaming, and I don't mind that at all.
Ey hesitated, then said, "It'd probably be more accurate to say that it's never happened before. I enjoy it now, it just didn't even really cross my mind until recently."
> Do you remember your dreams?
"When you had someone addicted to close attachments move in with you?"
My dreams when I'm asleep? Rarely. They're usually confused images of long hallways or being super crowded in a small space. Waking dreams are much more pleasant.
"A bit before, perhaps, probably when working on *On the Perils of Memory*, what with all that went into that Qoheleth business, though I couldn't put my finger on it at the time. That's where Codrin came from, after all."
> How long wilt Thou forget me, O Lord? Forever? How long wilt Thou hide Thy face from me?
May slipped her arm from beneath eir hand so that she could lace her fingers with eirs. "That makes sense. Do you understand it better now?"
I have to say, I started talking with de, one of the launch commission members, and we agreed that your questions grew exponentially weird starting about here. I originally thought I'd answer each in some snarky way, but the more I thought about them, the more I realized what you're going for. In that vein, I'll try to answer each as best I can.
"A bit, though I suspect I have a long ways to go yet," ey said, squeezing her fingers between eir own. "Why are we talking about this, by the way?"
There are a good number of people who think that God/god(s) forgot about Earth. There have always been doom-sayers and end-of-the-world-ites, but they have seen a huge uptick in my life alone. I think this last century has been defined by coming to terms with how fucked up everything is. And it's not that we don't blame ourselves. Many of us do! But many of those same people tack it on God, too. "God is disappointed with us and that's why everything's terrible" or whatever.
She laughed. "We are part of this story, too."
Me? I'm not so sure. I was raised thinking much of that, but I also feel like I left those feelings in the shuttle station back planet-side. I don't think about God much anymore. Maybe that's part of the problem: when we forget about God, we get complacent and then get into trouble, and suddenly he's much more relevant again. Who knows. Life up here is easy. I work, I get tired, I rest, I eat well, I get to do the thing I love most of all. Did I forget God back on Earth? Did I leave him there when I came here? Is there room for God in space? Do you have God in the System, and is that God the same one we talk about phys-side?
"Does that mean we're going to figure in your mythology, too?"
Maybe I can't answer the question without asking a bunch more because God and I forgot each other.
"Oh, of course! The archivist of tales and eir lover, the painter of myths!"
> When you become intoxicated --- whether via substance use or some natural process, such as sleep deprivation --- which of the following applies to you?
Ioan laughed. "Lover? Really?"
I laughed at this one. Where did you find this? I dug but couldn't find the source. I know that the previous one is a Psalm of some sort.
"It makes for good reading," she said, poking her nose up at eir chin again. "Though I would not turn it down."
There are very few chances to get intoxicated here on the station. I had a glass of champagne after launch, and it was the first drink I had had in at least a decade, if not longer. You spend that long away from alcohol, and you lose essentially all of your tolerance, so I'm ashamed to say that, while I did feel drunk, I basically stumbled off to bed and slept.
Ioan tensed. Ey could feel eir cheeks burning. "Uh...there's another conversation I've never had to have before."
However, you talk about other intoxications. I am no stranger to insomnia, and you're right that there is a sort of intoxication to that. I tend to get goofy and laugh a lot at the stupidest things when I've not slept for a day or two. I will laugh and laugh at the smallest thing, and then the laughter will fade and I'll sigh and say, "I'm so tired." And then I'll do the whole thing all over again. I think that might be kind of like Ape Drunk?
"We will have it another time," the skunk murmured. "Your heart is racing and making my pillow uncomfortable."
One thing this reminded me of, though, was of when I had just turned twenty and got incredibly sick. I had a very high fever, and when it was at its worst, I felt as though I was being offered a chance to peek behind a curtain, or at least see the shadows moving around backstage beneath the hem of it. I felt that I was granted a glimpse of some thinner reality that sat just behind our own. I was writhing in my bed, unable to hold still, with my back arching and my tongue sticking out, and yet there was this sense of the numinous and a short wave of ecstasy, and I felt pleasantly drunk. I don't know what "when a man is drunk and drinks himself sober ere he stir" means. Does it apply to functional alcholism? Even if it does, it feels like that moment. When I was in fever, I burned all the brighter before I got better, and in that moment, I saw the most clearly.
Ey forced a laugh. "What is it with you Odists? Are you all this good at turning everything on its head? Dear and Codrin, and now--"
> While walking along in desert sand, you suddenly look down and see a tortoise crawling toward you. You reach down and flip it over onto its back. The tortoise lies there, its belly baking in the hot sun, beating its legs, trying to turn itself over, but it cannot do so without your help. You are not helping. Why?
"You and me?" May giggled.
I don't know. I don't know why I flipped it, and I don't know why I'm not helping it, but I see myself there, watching it flail around, and I'm sobbing. I'm sobbing because for some reason, I'm not flipping it over and I wish against everything that I could give it relief. I feel guilt and shame in equal measure, and I watch myself beat my fists against my thighs, trying to force myself to do the thing, do the thing, just *do the thing.*
"I was going to say, "And now you're pushing me in weird directions." I wasn't expecting Codrin to find emself in a triad, if I'm honest."
This is a truly nightmarish question, May Then My Name.
"You, my dear, lack a certain self-awareness for someone who spends all eir time up in eir head."
> Two by two, two by two, and twice more. We always think in binaries, in black and white. We remember history two by two. We consider the present two by two. We think of the future twice over, and twice again. I have looked back on history and seen ceaseless progress or steps backward. I look back a hundred years and see illness and failure, and I look at today and see \_\_\_\_\_?
"Thanks, I think." Ioan shifted to the side enough to look down at the skunk. "How do you mean, though?"
I recognize this! We read it in class. I know that the next words are "twice that and more", but I don't think that's quite what you're getting at.
She laughed and licked em on eir chin. It was an odd sensation. "It is not surprising at all, knowing Dear. For as inventive and high-minded it is, it has a pattern of conforming itself to a situation such that those around it *want* to get close to it, and it does so in such a way that they think they want to be close of their own volition. It tailors its charisma to fit."
I look back a hundred years and see illness and failure, and I look at today and see twice that and more *below*, but up above, as it were, I see only the clean purity of space and the steady brightness of stars. If I literally look up, beyond the walls and hull, there is the System, and while I probably hold overly optimistic ideas of what goes on inside, I don't think you have illness and failure to nearly the same extent as we do phys-side. I doubt it's a utopia, but I would be hard pressed to imagine it as any worse than outside.
"Are you saying it's manipulative?"
> Oh, but to whom do I speak these words?
> To whom do I plead my case?
"Oh, no. Not really, at least. I do not think it knows that it is doing that. It also lacks that self-awareness. It is more like..." She trailed off, visibly searching for the words. "It is like it knows what feels good but not why, so it has developed mechanisms to ensure that those good things happen more frequently."
I am writing this to you, but if I have to plead my case to anyone, it's to myself. I have to make my case to myself that I am worth enough to upload, that I can bring *something* to the System, that I would be welcomed there. I'm a very harsh judge, though, and it's taking a lot of work to convince myself of that.
"More like a self-reinforcing behavior, I guess?"
> From whence do I call out?
She nodded.
Close. So close. I call out to myself from within myself. I call out to the System through a few inches of diamondoid coating and the fabric of my EVA suit.
"I suppose that makes sense, then." A silence fell during which Ioan thought about what self-reinforcing social behaviors ey had. "I like to work. It's a really fulfilling feeling. So I work. I try hard to do a good job, and when I do, it leads to more work. I developed a way to keep myself interested."
> What right have I?
> No ranks of angels will answer to dreamers,
> No unknowable spaces echo my words.
"A coping mechanism for the terminally immortal."
This is the crux of the problem, isn't it? I am convinced, on some level, that I don't have the right to want this thing. Immortality is for the gods, and that's what you seem like to me. You seem like gods, and here I am, the mortal sweeping the floor of your altar. The candles are out, the celebrants are gone, no ranks of angles will answer to a dreamer like me, and as always, sound does not travel in space.
Ioan laughed. "'Terminally immortal'? How does that even work?"
> Before whom do I kneel, contrite?
"I do not know. You are the word nerd, here."
That part of me that says, "No, you are not a god." And when I beg his pardon, he laughs and says, "No amount of contrition will get you into a place separated from you by an impossibly large gap. Only death will get there, and you are not worth that."
"The archivist of tales, you mean."
> Behind whom do I await my judgment?
She laughed. "Of course. And eir pet mythologist."
I wait behind that part of me which desperately hopes that you think kindly of me, that you accept me. You, May Then My Name, as well as Michelle Hadje and the whole of the System. If that part of me is allowed in, then maybe I will be seen as worthy, too.
"Oh, now it's 'pet'?"
> Beside whom do I face death?
"I am still trying on labels. I am the one who has to write that sort of stuff, after all."
There is no one beside me. I have few attachments here, and what professional contacts I do have with whom I've fostered a friendship have no plans to upload. It's just me before the System, waiting for death and hoping it's enough.
Ey lay back against the beanbag and May made herself comfortable against em once more.
> And why wait I for an answer?
More woolgathering. That's what the evening called for, more than work. More woolgathering for the both of them.
Lovers? Ey let a tape run forward in eir mind. Ey watched the friendship ey had formed with May progress into some form of romantic relationship. How would it start? Would it start with em making a formal decision to let that happen? Or would it happen by accident? Would ey some day wake up and realize, *Holy shit, I think we're dating. Are we dating? I think we are.*
And ey set a different tape to playing. A tape wherein ey set firmer boundaries, prohibited the friendship from progressing further than it already had. Or, worse --- strange to already be placing value judgements! --- a world in which ey pushed the skunk away, backed off from the physical affection, from the talk that bordered on flirty, from even the hypocorism 'May'. If ey let that tape play beyond that point, ey knew ey would find all of the ways in which that would hurt May and how, knowing her, seeing her express that pain would hurt em in turn.
*How do they do this?* ey thought. *How do the Odists just worm their way into your life and make themselves comfortable, letting you think it was your idea? That's what she'd said, and now I'm in exactly the same position as Codrin twenty years ago.*
"It is not intentional, Ioan, I promise. Not wholly."
Ey jolted, blinking rapidly as her words registered. "Wait, what? What isn't?"
"Getting close. Wearing down your inhibitions. What we were talking about before."
"You reading my mind?"
She shook her head and ey could hear the smile in her voice. "You mumble when you think really hard."
"Shit, right. Sorry. I trust you on that. I'm not upset or anything, I like, uh...this, and don't have any plans from rolling that back. You mentioned a pattern, though, and got me thinking about it."
"This is what I like about you, Ioan. What the whole clade likes about you, if history is anything to go by. You spend enough time up in your head that you start thinking about what you are thinking about and putting words to what you are feeling. You get surprised, and then you think about your surprise and break it down to make meaning of it. What you lack in self-awareness you make up in easy self-analysis."
"Feels like overanalysis, sometimes."
"Mm, probably is, and sometimes I wish you would come back down out of your head to be present. But it is the same as we are prone to overdoing whatever it is that we are specialists in. Dear goes hard on instance art, I go hard on feeling."
"What are you feeling about..." Ey forced himself to push away encroaching work-thoughts. Ey had been about to say *about this whole venture*, but instead went with, "About this?"
"Now?" She squeezed eir fingers in her own before disentangling them to tap at eir nose. "I am feeling comfortable with you, and I am feeling happy about that. I am feeling like asking you to cook something because I am starving or asking you if you'd like to go to bed because I am tired or asking you to get back to work so that I can do the same."
"That's a lot of feelings at once," ey said, grinning.
"Like I said, we overdo it."
"Well," ey said, focusing enough to fork off two more Ioans, which ey tagged #Castor and #Pollux.
"I'll finish up work," #Castor said.
"And I'll cook dinner," #Pollux said.
"And we can head to bed after we eat."
May's laugh was bright as she clapped her paws. "Well played." She slid off the beanbag and stood. She forked another May to go help #Pollux cook before stretching and offering a paw to Ioan to help em stand.
"What?" Ey took the paw and let her help lever em out of the beanbag. She kept the grip on eir hand after. "Bed now? Instead of eating?"
"Excuse me. We are adults in this house, Mx. Ioan Bălan, and adults eat at the fucking table and not on a pouf."
Please answer, May Then My Name. I wait because I have to know that there is something beyond this. I went into this questionnaire with an open mind, and now I'm having a hard time continuing because I just want to curl up in my bed and cry because these last questions have stripped me of any pretense that I had about my desires and what's keeping me from them. I don't recognize where you got them from, but they have me truly unsettled. They sound almost like your name, and if you are a part of these questions, then please answer.