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# Douglas Hadje --- 2326
The arrangements required for this surprise for May Then My Name quickly began to feel overly complicated to Douglas, but, as Ioan kept reminding him, she was a very complicated person. She was also very perceptive, so there was apparently much secrecy required to make this plan work.
The lead-up to uploading, however, was easy. He supposed that much of it was that so much excitement combined with so much anxiety eventually left him feeling more numb than anything, some protective emotional reaction that kept him from simply exploding on one of his many, many walks.
But anticlimax is simply the way of the world, and so the night before the one-year anniversary of the Launch arrived, he simply signed a waiver, walked to the clinic, answered a few questions, and then underwent the procedure. It was dizzying, disorienting, and, were he pressed to pick one, the worst physical experience of his life, but at that point, he was well past any point where he could turn back, and even then, he knew he wouldn't.
There was simply a brief discontinuity, and then he was standing in a grey cube of a room, naked, vertiginous, blinking at a light that seemed to come from nowhere.
Anticlimax indeed.
A quiet voice came from behind him, a soft tenor that contained an accent that he couldn't place. "Good evening, Douglas. I'm facing the wall, if you're concerned about your nudity, but I'll talk you through fixing that."
He crouched down, covering himself with his hands, and turned slowly. There was a person standing in the corner of the room, shorter than him, hands clasped loosely behind their back while they faced the wall. They were dressed in a sweater-vest and a pale yellow dress shirt. Nice slacks, nice shoes, tousled hair. "Wh-who..." he croaked.
"Can you guess?"
Douglas swallowed a few times, working up enough saliva to un-parch his throat. "Ioan? Is that you?"
Ey laughed, nodded. "Well spotted. Now, do you want to get dressed?"
"Please," he said, looking around for clothes. There was only the gray floor, gray walls, gray ceiling.
"Okay, bear with me. I had to look up the script for this, so I hope it makes sense to you."
Ioan spent the next five minutes talking Douglas through the process of clothing himself, breathing in a thought and breathing out an intention, willing into being that which he wanted.
Once he was dressed, Ioan asked, "May I turn around now?"
He looked down at himself, along his arms and legs, seeing that the oh-so-familiar jumpsuit was just as he remembered, then said, "Sure."
Ioan nodded and turned to face him, smiling. Ey looked over him searchingly, then laughed. "Is that your work uniform?"
"It's my only outfit," he said. "No other clothes aboard the station. Too much risk of them getting in the way."
"Well, okay," the historian said. Douglas could see now that the sweater-vest was patterned in a dusty gray argyle and that there was even an understated bow tie to bring the look together. Ey stepped forward, hand extended. "Douglas Hadje, it's nice to meet you at last."
He was surprised at how relieved he felt, even laughing as he accepted the hand to shake. "Wonderful! This is really strange. After a year of talking, it still feels like we're meeting for the first time."
"Didn't you say you had a long distance partner? Isn't that close?"
"Well, yes, but we talked over the 'net in sims. That's like proximity."
Ioan blinked, then nodded, grinning. "Right, right. Well, how're you feeling? I remember I was pretty disoriented for a while after uploading."
Douglas looked around. The walls offered little but more gray and a faint grid of darker grey, as though made of panels a meter on a side. Ioan looked...well, ordinary, is all he could think. Ey looked like a normal person of Eastern European stock. Eir clothes looked as detailed as could be expected phys-side, and eir hand felt as much like a normal hand as any.
"It's so...normal," he said, finally.
"Yeah, I guess it is. I'm nearing a century here, so I'm used to it by now. It *is* normal to me."
"You still look like you're in your twenties or thirties, which I guess that's kind of weird. Is that how you looked before uploading?"
"More or less," ey said. "I didn't dress as well. And I was skinnier, too. I guess this is how I saw myself after a while, though."
Douglas looked em up and down. "You can gain weight, here?"
"No, no. Or, sort of. Just that as your image of yourself changes, when you fork, those changes have a tendency to show up." Ey grinned wryly. "You'll see with May. She's far more adept than anyone I've met, except perhaps her cocladist, Dear, at shaping how she looks when she forks."
"And I can fork, too?"
"Sure. Would you like to? That's part of the intro script, as well."
"Uh, I guess so," he said.
They stood in silence for a while, once Douglas had learned the ins and outs of forking and quitting. His mind was churning --- so much new information --- while Ioan waited patiently. There was so much to take in all at once, he could easily see how one could get overwhelmed.
"Alright," he said. "What's the plan from here?"
Ioan straightened up. "Well, let's go somewhere less dreary. I want you use that same exercise of intent and *want* to be at The Field#002a0b1."
"These numbers are going to be difficult to remember," he said.
"You'll get used to them. You'll, uh...you'll find that you can't actually forget anything, here, but that's a problem for future Douglas. Ready?"
He nodded, deciding this time to try keeping his eyes open. As he breathed the intention, he was, without transition, standing in a sprawling field. Green grass speckled with dandelions as far as he could see in every direction, all lit by a salmon-colored sunset.
A memory tugged itself loose, something May Then My Name had said, a story she had told months ago, and he quickly bent down to pluck one of the flowers. "Ioan," he said shakily. "Is this...I mean..."
"Michelle's old sim, yes. I wanted the first place you saw to be one that was important to you. I hope that's okay." Ey paused a moment, then said, "If it's alright, can I ask how you feel about that?"
"Is this for your history?"
Ey nodded. "If you consent."
"I suppose so." He sat down on the grass, hardly daring to breathe in through his nose, lest he figure out just what it meant for something to smell like muffins. Tears stung his eyes, and it took a while for him to be able to breathe deep enough to speak. "I feel overwhelmed. I feel like I'm home, but also not where I should be at all, like I'm intruding on somewhere that should've been left pristine."
Ioan sat down next to him. "Are you worried about that? Would you like to go elsewhere?"
"No, no. I like it here, I'm just overwhelmed. I've been..." He rubbed tears away with his sleeve. "I've just been thinking about this for so long...I don't know."
"And do they smell like muffins?"
Wrong-footed, he stared at the historian for a moment, then plucked a dandelion and slowly lifted the yellow flower to his nose, struggling against the urge to keep that knowledge a dream rather than a reality.
Then he breathed in the sweet, vegetal scent, and began to cry in earnest.
Ioan sat with him in kind quiet. As ey had so long ago, ey didn't say anything, didn't try to comfort him, didn't touch him, just sat and remained present. It was as though he were there simply to witness those emotions and give testimony to them, and that, more than anything, made him feel welcome here. Welcome with Ioan, welcome in the field, welcome in the System.
After the wave crested and then passed, he said, "Alright, so, what's the plan?"
"You just stay the night here. You can think up a mattress or anything else you need to be comfortable. We'll be by tomorrow mid-morning for a picnic. I'm happy to stay, too, if you'd like, or give you space."
"Won't May Then My Name miss-- oh, right. You're a fork, aren't you?"
Ey smiled, nodded. "Of course. Ioan#Tracker is back at home getting pestered by May."
"Did you two wind up hooking up, then?" he asked, grinning.
Ioan laughed and hid a blush by looking down at the flowers, poking eir fingers amid the grass. "Yes. Thank you for the nudge."
"Good. Why don't you go focus on her, then, and I'll sleep here. I'm assuming the same trick I used for clothing and such works for food and drink, right?"
"Yes, but start with small things. If you don't remember well enough what something tastes like, you can wind up with some really disgusting stuff. That's why there's still restaurants and cooking."
After Ioan had hugged him, said goodbye, and quit, after he'd had a simple sandwich and some water, Douglas sat on the low rise he'd initially appeared on, watching evening dim to twilight, then twilight to darkness. He'd never been camping, but he'd learned enough about it that he was able to come up with a sleeping bag and pillow, laying awake long into the night, looking up at a dream of stars.
Morning came slowly, and it was the heat rather than the light that woke him. He started as the sudden anxiety that he'd missed the deadline hit, but he was still alone, there in the field.
A wish of eggs and coffee went well enough, though neither was particularly tasty, and he was able to will the sleeping bag and dishes away easily enough. He didn't know what time it was--
No, wait. He did. It was systime 202+21 0921. One year, nine hours, twenty-one minutes after launch.
He put aside the fact that he knew that fact, and instead went for a walk.
He didn't walk far, not wanting to miss the arrival of Ioan and May and not knowing how big the field actually was, but it was enough to stake out the area. It was rather boring, really. Grass, dandelions, the occasional fat bumblebee drifting lazily among the flowers.
Boring, but meaningful. Boring but home.
Eventually, he found the patch of tamped down grass where he'd slept the night before, sat down, and waited.
Eleven o'clock arrived and then, a few minutes later, so did Ioan and one other.
They were facing the other way, so he had a few moments to drink in the sight. Ioan was as he remembered, excepting a basket that was likely full of picnic goods, and May Then My Name was wholly unlike anything he expected.
She was a furry, he could tell that much. There were plenty on the 'net; his erstwhile girlfriend with the cat av was one.
He didn't recognize her species at first. Black, rounded ears, a spray of longer white fur atop her head, simple tee-shirt and shorts, and a long tail with thick fur that looked luxuriously soft. *A skunk? Really?* he thought, and shook his head.
The pair were still talking, hand in...well, paw, he supposed, so he stood up and cleared his throat.
May Then My Name reacted with a speed he'd not expected, whirling around and clutching at Ioan's arm tightly, ears laid flat against her head. "Who the fuck are you?" she growled, feral. The words were perfectly intelligible, he was pleased to note, and spoke of a central corridor accent.
Remembering Ioan's words from the day before, he grinned. "Can you guess?"
She straightened up and frowned, head tilted, then turned to Ioan, who looked to be holding back laughter, and punched em solidly in the shoulder. "You...you piece of shit! *You* organized this! I know you did! Mx. Ioan Bălan, I am absolutely putting sand in your shoes."
Then the skunk began running, and as she did, dozens of other versions of her flickered into and out of existence around her, a confusing rush of skunks that obscured which was the original, all grinning madly. She leapt at him and, before he could react, nearly tackled him to the ground, her arms tight around his middle. "If you are not Mister Douglas Hadje, master of spaceflight and doctor of something incredibly boring, I will be quite embarrassed. Please tell me you are."
"I am, I am," he said, laughing and returning the hug. She was short enough that the top of her head barely came up to his chin. Her fur was incredibly soft against his chin and neck, and he had to restrain himself from outright petting her. "It's nice to meet you at last."
"Douglas, holy shit. Holy shit! This is absolutely delightful," she said, voice muffled against his shoulder and obscured by tears. Without letting go of the hug, she forked off a copy of herself to hurl at Ioan, who was laughing openly now. This time, she did manage to throw her target to the grass, and the two wrestled around for a moment, shoving at each other, before that instance of May Then My Name quit, leaving Ioan to pick emself up again, dusting grass off eir clothes.
Eventually, after she'd had her cry, she released her grip on him and stepped back, holding onto his upper arms and looking him up and down. She nodded approvingly. "Every inch a Hadje. Sort of. You are very tall, and you have lost the round face."
"I have? I mean, I guess that makes sense. Michelle lived two centuries ago. I've seen a few pictures from the news archives, but they took a while to dig up, so I can only guess."
"Like this?" Her expression grew wicked. She forked, and this fork was completely human. Shoulder-length curly black hair, round of face, short, the spitting image...
"Wait," he stammered. "You can just look like her? The pictures...I thought...I thought that'd be frowned on."
"Oh, it is," the woman said. "Come on, Dr Hadje. Do keep up."
All of his blood was completely replaced with ice water. His voice failed him. A hatch in the field opened beneath him and he began to fall. Or, at least that's what his mind told him was happening. When the world finally stopped spinning and he finally reconnected with his body, he found that he was sitting on the grass.
"You're..."
The woman---Michelle?---came and sat on the grass next to him to hug an arm around his shoulders, her expression softening. "I am May Then My Name Die With Me of the Ode clade, Douglas. *Michelle's* clade."
"So..."
"I was forked from her two centuries ago, and while it would be more accurate to say that I am *of* her than Michelle herself, I remember being her." She rubbed her hand against his back. "Douglas, please keep breathing. You are going to pass out if you keep that up."
He gulped for air, shaking. "You lied to me, then? You..."
"A small untruth," she said, voice calm and soothing. "Michelle herself did quit some time ago, but I am of her clade."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She winked. "A story such as ours deserves a grand conclusion, does it not?"
He laughed. It sounded manic even to his own ears. Crazed. "Tell me everything! I need to know about you, about her, about--"
"Patience, patience!" May Then My Name ducked one of his waving hands, laughing as well. "We have all the time in the world, my dear, and today is a day for many celebrations. You will learn all about us, cousin. You will learn about me and her, about individuation and intracladal dynamics."
He nodded. All that she was saying was swirling around in his mind, wrapped up in the strange, fluent-yet-stilted language that he'd gotten used to over text but now had to get used to in person. He couldn't tell if he was ecstatic at the news, mad at her, or simply overwhelmed, but so earnest was May then My Name's expression that any heat of anger quickly cooled.
"Everything feels like it needs to be done in such a rush, though," he admitted. "Like if I don't do it right now I'm going to explode. You really look like her? Exactly? And...but you're a skunk."
May Then My Name---the one that looked like Michelle---smirked and disappeared, having apparently quit, leaving the still giggling skunk to help Douglas up.
"Later, I promise." She pulled him over to the picnic blanket with her so that she could sit next to him. She tasked Ioan with setting up the food while they talked. "Douglas, my dear, what are you most excited about, now that you have uploaded?" she asked earnestly, paw resting on his knee.
"Well, I was going to say meeting you two, but now that that's over, I guess getting to know you. Like, actually know you, instead of just chatting over text. Getting to know the System, too. I spent years imagining how it worked in here, and now that I'm here, I'm a little overwhelmed with how little of that feels accurate."
"It is difficult to explain in words how it all works, so many phys-side do not know."
"I guess I want to try some real food, too. We get chicken once a month on the station. Or got, I guess. Otherwise it was all vegetarian. No complaints, really, but it gets a bit samey after twenty years. There's a lot of catching up to do. Chicken and bread and fried things."
The skunk nodded, leaned over, and dotted her nose against his cheek. "There will be plenty of time for that. We did bring muffins at least. Is there anything you will miss from phys-side?"
"No." The answer came quickly. "Not a thing."
She grinned. "Well, that is good, is it not?"
He nodded.
"And anything you regret?"
"I sort of regret not being on the launches, too, but there's no helping that, if I was also to be the phys-side coordinator. It's one of those things where I couldn't do both, and I certainly can't go back and change it."
"There is no going and there is no back," May Then My Name said. "You are here and that is that. It is a decision you cannot reverse."
Ioan, fishing plates and containers of food and a bottle of the champagne out of the picnic basket, said, "She and her cocladists are very fixated on irreversibility these days. You'll hear a lot of it."
The skunk nodded. "Yes. It is fascinating, though, and we are helpless before fascination. Is there anything else you regret about leaving? Not uploading sooner?"
He shrugged. "Not really. It's like you say, there's no changing the past."
"May's interviewing you for me," Ioan said, chuckling. "Those are all my usual questions. She's getting the hang of it, but needs to work on drawing more out of you."
May Then My Name rolled her eyes, saying to Douglas, "Do not listen to em. Ey is just gloating over the stunt that ey pulled."
Douglas grinned. "*We* pulled, you mean."
"Wait, both of you?" She shoved at him until he fell over onto his side, laughing. "Beaten at my own game, is that what you think? You think you can out-manipulate an Odist? Out-Hadje a Hadje?"
"I think we can out-manipulate *you*, dear." Ioan popped the cork on a bottle of champagne, then poured a glass for each of them. "You're easy. All we have to do is play to your hopeless romanticism."
"Yes, well, fuck you too. Give me my champagne."
The rest of the day from there on was, beyond any shadow of a doubt, the happiest that Douglas had ever had. He learned of the Ode and of the Name. He learned of Codrin and Dear. He learned of all of the vast vagaries of the System, of the new arts and the subtle sciences that could exist only outside of the physical world. He learned, watching the way Ioan and May Then My Name looked at each other, spoke to each other, touched each other, what happiness even was, and that he was a part of it lent more of a sense of completion than any celebration could.
# Codrin Bălan#Pollux --- 2326
Interview with Dear, Also, The Tree That Was Felled#Pollux
On the reasons for vesting entirely in the Launch
Codrin Bălan#Pollux
Systime: 202+22 1208
> **Codrin Bălan#Pollux:** Thanks for agreeing to this, Dear. I think we're both in a better spot for it now.
>
> **Dear, Also, The Tree That Was Felled:** Of course, my dear. I would still like to discuss some of the same topics, but I will try to be more sensitive about them.
>
> **Codrin:** We'll make it work. I'll start where I did last time, then. How are you feeling?
>
> **Dear:** I am feeling relieved, I suppose. I am feeling relieved and tired.
>
> **Codrin:** How so?
>
> **Dear:** To say that a lot has happened in the last twelve months is not quite true. Very little that counts as dramatic or anything has happened. There were interviews by the Bălan clade and that is about it. The most dramatic of those took place on the other LV however many billions of miles away, and that was simply one of you getting bounced from a sim, yes? No assassinations. Nothing has happened that feels like it should lead to exhaustion, and yet I am quite worn out by the sheer amount of information uncovered.
>
> **Codrin:** Emotionally exhausted, perhaps? Like you had to relive two hundred years in the space of one?
>
> **Dear:** That is a large part of it, yes. Emotionally exhausted, worn out by the shift of understanding between our two clades.
>
> **Codrin:** I suppose we're pretty thoroughly intertwined now, aren't we?
>
> **Dear:** [laughter] Yes, now that Ioan has picked up on May's rather blunt hints.
>
> **Codrin:** Hey, it takes time.
>
> **Dear:** And I have been training you for two decades, so there is also that.
>
> **Codrin:** Yes. Well, can you expand on how you feel relieved?
>
> **Dear:** I will try. There is a lot that the Ode clade has done that has come to light in the last year, and while I cannot say that I was personally a part of much of that, I have also borne that knowledge. I also knew those secrets. Not having to hold them constantly at bay from even those that I am closest to has let off that pressure.
>
> **Codrin:** Thank you for telling us, too. I know that True Name said we won't see a huge reaction from this given her past work, but it's still a relief to hear for me, as well. Now, do you have any additional thoughts on why you decided to join the Launch? I'm particularly interested on your thoughts on investing entirely in it, but I suspect those will come up in separate questions.
>
> **Dear:** They almost certainly will, yes. Well. [pauses] Yes. I believe I said before that a large part of it is due to me being a hopeless romantic. A large part of that still stands. I am excited to see the galaxy, as it were, and it still tickles me to know that I am speeding away from Earth at some ludicrous speed and that there is absolutely no way back.
>
> **Codrin:** Does that play into your thoughts on irreversibility?
>
> **Dear:** [laughter] Of course, my dear. There is no way back. The Ansible on the launch is no longer connected with the one on Earth, by agreement with the launch commission that this be a one-and-done project, at least for now. If they create additional LVs down the line, then perhaps they will have separate conversations. There is no going and there is no back, yes? We are here, and we will never see Earth, the station, or the System again. That is very appealing to the romantic in me.
>
> **Codrin:** I think you also said you were getting bored, too.
>
> **Dear:** Yes. Life is a chronic condition, boredom is terminal.
>
> **Codrin:** You're a fox of many quips.
>
> **Dear:** Yes, I am. Sue me.
>
> **Codrin:** [laughter] Well, do you have other reasons?
>
> **Dear:** I do. I also mentioned that boredom was close to stasis, and I loathe that feeling even more.
>
> **Codrin:** And that has played a role specifically because of the part the conservative elements of your clade have played in ensuring stasis.
>
> **Dear:** Yes. They prefer stasis on a grand scale, and perhaps they are correct to do so, but I worry that this mindset too often bleeds into the small scale as well. Stasis can be torture. They know that, too. They mention that ceaseless bliss is a real problem, and so they must inject a desire for something better every now and then, but that knowledge still works against their instincts.
>
> **Codrin:** You want an exciting adventure, they wanted only enough adventure to keep everyone from going crazy.
>
> **Dear:** Yes. They have their reasons. They may be good reasons, even. They are not my reasons, however.
>
> **Codrin:** You also mentioned that one of your reasons for leaving was that you wanted to be relegated to memory.
>
> **Dear:** [grinning] Very much so.
>
> **Codrin:** You said, "If we are doomed to forever remember everything, then the closest we can get to being forgotten is to turn memory into longing." You also said that you wanted to be missed. How do you feel about that sentiment now? Is it happening? Is it progressing at the pace you'd like it to? Are you happy about it?
>
> **Dear:** It is an interesting question, because I cannot know, can I? I cannot know if anyone misses me or is longing for me back on the L<sub>5</sub> station, can I? They can write me, perhaps, let me know that they are thinking of me, but words on paper only convey so much meaning. It makes me wish that someone had found a way to share thoughts, or even facial expressions, between the LVs and the System, but no, we are stuck with text, and therein lies the beauty.
>
> **Codrin:** Can you expand on what 'longing' and 'being missed' mean to you in this sense?
>
> **Dear:** I can try. [pause] I think that they involve a combination of the feelings of grief, loss, and love. Let us use Ioan as an example, though I do not know if ey misses me--
>
> **Codrin:** I think ey does. But sorry, continue.
>
> **Dear:** Yes. Well. Let us use Ioan as an example. If ey were to only feel grief at my absence, ey would be limited to a solely negative emotion. Grief on its own is crushing. It is not wishing that one had more time with the object of one's grief; that is longing. Grief plus love is longing, yes? Grief borne of love, no matter the shape or kind or color of that love. Then you dig into your memories, running them backwards and forwards in your mind, hunting for just a little bit more time with the one you are grieving. You wish only to feel that love again, and, to tie it all together, you cannot, because you have lost the one whom you love. Loss leads to grief, grief makes you remember love, love makes you realize your loss.
>
> **Codrin:** Do you think being missed and longing are the same thing? Just to confirm, I mean.
>
> **Dear:** Perhaps, or at least very closely related. What I described just now fits both emotions. Being missed perhaps implies more acceptance of that loss than longing does, while longing has connotations of sadness that there can never be more of that direct connection.
>
> **Codrin:** Thank you. I'd like to ask you a question now, but last time I asked it, I made you cry. May I ask it again, or would you prefer to steer clear of it?
>
> **Dear:** If it is the question I am thinking of, I have nearly a year to think about it, and am much more comfortable with it now. Ask away.
>
> **Codrin:** Alright, just let me know if you want to stop. Do you worry that you won't be missed?
>
> **Dear:** I do, yes. I know that it is impossible to be so great on a System with tens of billions of individuals on it to be known by them all, as much as an artist may dream, but even among the small circles in which I was known, I worry that I will be forgotten. I worry that I won't be missed, or that I will be forgotten.
>
> **Codrin:** You said, specifically, that--
>
> **Dear:** Wait, Codrin, let me say it. I do not want to hear it from you.
>
> **Codrin:** Okay.
>
> **Dear:** Okay. I said that some aspects of myself may render me "the kind of fellow who is beloved by all yet loved by none". Before you ask whether I still feel that way, the answer is that I do. I do still worry that I might be beloved by all yet loved by none. My understanding of the phrase, however, has changed, and that change has softened the sentiment.
>
> **Dear:** To be beloved is, I think, to experience a type of parasocial relationship. If I am beloved by someone, they love the idea of me that they hold in their head. To be famous is to be beloved. To have someone come to your gallery exhibitions or your talks or your parties simply to say that they were near you, even if only to themselves, then that is to be beloved. This turns the phrase into a concern that I might find myself in more parasocial relationships than social relationships.
>
> **Dear:** It is a hard fear to shake, but once I put it in those terms, I was able to step past that emotional reasoning. I do not think that I am loved by none. Both of my partners love me. May Then My Name and Ioan love me. Serene loves me. My friends love me. That does not stop the fear of being beloved by all yet loved by none from rearing its ugly head, but I am more easily able to acknowledge it and let it pass, now.
>
> **Codrin:** Thank you. That helps put it into context for me, too. When you started talking about that last time, that's when I started struggling with the interview, too.
>
> **Dear:** Why? I mean, I know that this is your interview, but for my sake, I would like to know why.
>
> **Codrin:** [pause] I think because something about the way you said it made me worry that you thought that I didn't love you, or maybe that you didn't love me, or--
>
> **Dear:** [angrily] Codrin.
>
> **Codrin:** I'm sorry, Dear. I wanted to be up front about it.
>
> **Dear:** [long pause, calmer] I understand. I... [pause] Perhaps you feel some of the same worry that you might be loved by none. Perhaps it is a universal emotion.
>
> **Codrin:** I think so, yeah. Having it said out loud kicked my anxiety up a notch, so I started to worry, "Wait, *am* I loved by none? Does Dear love me? Do both of my partners love me?" I know it's not true, but that's why I reacted in the way that I did.
>
> **Dear:** [smiling] Yes. I apologize for yelling.
>
> **Codrin:** It's okay, Dear. Now, I want to hear your thoughts on death.
>
> **Dear:** [taken aback] You do?
>
> **Codrin:** Of course. I suspect they're interesting.
>
> **Dear:** Okay, but--
>
> **Codrin:** And if you say "I want to die", I'll pull your tail and call you names.
>
> **Dear:** [laughter] Yes, yes, fine. My thoughts, okay. [pause] Okay. To be more calm about it, I want to experience death. I do not want to just quit, because that is suicide, and my wish to experience death is not bound up in that particular set of emotions. I would prefer not to be assassinated or anything so grand. It is an acceptable end, I suppose, because it would mean that I will have lived a life worth being assassinated for, and from what I have seen --- what I saw with Qoheleth --- it looks like a process. Yes! Yes, that is it. Thank you for asking this, my dear. It gave me the chance to find the words.
>
> **Dear:** I do not want to experience ceasing existing. That is just cessation, and I do not care whether or not there is anything beyond that cessation. That is for the prophets and poets to worry about. What I want to experience is the process of death. Assassination would be acceptable, even if it is not preferable, because I would get to experience that process. Better, however, is the fact that these LVs are doomed from the start. Eventually, they will fail. The generator on board is guaranteed for some thousands of years or whatever, but it will fail eventually. Or the System will crash into a comet, or some ice ball out in the Oort cloud --- I read about that, you know? It is all incredibly boring --- or it will wind up flying too close to a star and burn up. That, I think, is the end that I am most excited for. We are [shaking head] all of those on the LVs are encased in Castor and Pollux, yes? How fitting, then, that we might die like Icarus! I imagine that we will not necessarily feel too much within our little System, but there may be some discontinuity, or perhaps corruption. How exciting would that be?
>
> **Codrin:** [laughter] I'm not sure I share your excitement, there.
>
> **Dear:** Lame. [laughter] But either way, I find it fascinating. Will we feel pain? Who knows! It is a new thing, and I am looking forward to experiencing something new.
>
> **Codrin:** That, at least, I can understand. I'd just prefer it if it didn't involve dying horribly as the LV fails around us.
>
> **Dear:** [waving paw] Irrelevant. Boring. Do not care.
>
> **Codrin:** You're a brat, you know that?
>
> **Dear:** I do. Ioan, my dear, please leave this in. I need written testimony that Codrin thinks that I am a brat. Ow! [laughter] And that ey kicked me in the shin.
>
> **Codrin:** No more than you deserved.
>
> **Dear:** Well, I can accept that. Do you have any more questions?
>
> **Codrin:** Two, yes. How do you feel about the knowledge of the Ode clade's influence in the System?
>
> **Dear:** Do you mean separate from the relief?
>
> **Codrin:** Yes. You mentioned the relief in the context of no longer holding that secret. I'm curious how you feel about the reality of it.
>
> **Dear:** [long pause] I feel shame, I suppose. I wish that they had not done that. It goes beyond guilt for the actions, because I did not perform them. It makes me feel ashamed that I am a member of the clade. I do not wish them harm, of course, nor do I feel that they necessarily were acting in bad faith. I feel that they were doing what they felt was best. It was just the means to those positive ends that are distasteful and make me ashamed. I also feel fear at what will come of this history and mythology. I know that True Name and Jonas said that they have prepared both sys- and phys-side for their reception, but, well, if there is any reason for me to be assassinated, it is that. As a public figure and an Odist, I am a visible representative of the clade, and should someone take umbrage with that, they have the motive right there.
>
> **Codrin:** Do you feel any pride about the ends, even if the means were unsavory?
>
> **Dear:** If I do, it pales in comparison. We have gotten here, and there is no changing that. We cannot be anywhere but here. That I am relatively happy here is inconsequential.
>
> **Codrin:** Alright, thank you. Last question: what's next for you?
>
> **Dear:** For me? Short term, I plan on eating a good dinner, drinking a lot of wine, and making fun of you until you get mad and pull my tail. Mid term, I plan on working on another exhibition. Perhaps it will even surround death, though likely the topic will be more general, such as my beloved irreversibility.
>
> **Codrin:** And long term?
>
> **Dear:** I do not know.
>
> **Codrin:** You don't?
>
> **Dear:** I do not. Is that not fantastic? I do not know, and I love that about this particular future. I simply do not know.