Toledot, page 32
part #2 of Post-Self Series
“Yes, I suppose, but others were already using it. Respected voices, even. It’s not the first time it’s come up.”
“Of course, but it is the first time it’s been put in front of everyone as something they must consider.”
Yared frowned. “If that’s the case, then perhaps we should have waited for a separate referendum.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Demma smiled, looking very much the kind, grandfatherly type. “Or rather, our analysts didn’t think so. They ran several situations through their various models and came to the conclusion that an amendment was the best path forward.”
“Why, though? I don’t see how introducing something so divisive would lead to anything other than either the entire referendum getting thrown out or, at best, delaying the process for months.”
“There may indeed be a small delay as debate kicks up again.” Demma nodded toward Yared. “Which we will help you participate in, much as we have up to this point. Still, broaching the idea as an amendment is a good way to get this idea in the forefront of people’s minds. They can have the debate with lower pressure on acceptance. They can always vote on the original referendum without passing the amendment, correct?”
Yared nodded.
“So, if that happens, at that point, we can spin it off into its own referendum, and by then, much of the debate will have already taken place, and we can continue to work through the whole process calmly, as we have been.” He spread his hands, still smiling. “It is all a matter of risk management, Mr. Zerezghi. You understand.”
“I suppose.”
“Have you had a chance to speak with Jonas and his strangely named friend yet?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. Like I said, I started to panic and went for my walk.”
Demma nodded. “I suggest you do as soon as you get back. I’m curious to hear their opinion on the result of this amendment. I suspect they are equally curious to hear your opinion. Please report back to me what they say, as you have been.”
“Alright.”
“Now, here are my thoughts on the matter,” the councilor said. “I think the amendment will be successful, and I have three reasons why. First of all, the DDR is far easier to send into a fit than you might be giving it credit for. We’ve watched it for decades now. It has a very short attention span, and dramatic reactions are part of that. Voters will work themselves up into a froth on whatever the current issue is, but there will always be another issue.
“Second, there will be another referendum introduced in December. It is already being drafted up in Cairo, and will involve some issue of mid-level consequence, but one that will be of interest to many of the regular DDR voices. You’ll have to pardon me for not giving you more information until the referendum is made public, but I can tell you that it will involve both the subcommittees on environment and land management.”
Yared blinked. Demma was right, of course, anything to deal with land rights, especially here in the Northeast African Coalition, was bound to draw many of the loudest DDR junkies, himself included.
“Should I take part in that conversation, too?” he asked.
“You can if you’d like, so long as you don’t drop your focus on the current referendum completely. I don’t imagine you will, given that your name is on an amendment.”
He nodded.
“The third reason, however, is that there is more going on behind the scenes on the governmental level than you are privy to. It’s often fashionable to ascribe ill intentions to politicians, but that is because they have often borne out when scandals come to light.
“There is nothing scandal-worthy here, but there are still strings to be pulled. The correct hands shaken, the correct babies kissed, the correct promises of support on the correct issues. Some of those strings are the ones that everyone can see: the campaign contributions, the baby-kissing, the promises. Some of them are not, though. Thinly veiled threats, intimidation. Who knows, perhaps even some market meddling.”
Yared’s baseline frown deepened, to which Demma laughed.
“Politics is politics, my dear Yared. It is a game, as I’m sure you’ve guessed from your interactions with Jonas, just one with high stakes. When there are high stakes, one must use all the tools at one’s disposal, savory or otherwise.”
“I understand,” he said, still feeling that tension in his shoulders.
Still smiling, Demma soothed, “You have made your own harsh comments, I know. You have questioned your opponent’s competency. You have suggested that perhaps others band up against them and nudge them out of the debate. You have the very same toolkit, if only on a smaller scale.”
He finally let his shoulders sag.
“So,” the councilor said, ticking off on his fingers. “The DDR is easily distracted, an additional distraction will be provided, and politics will be done where required. I promise that you’ll quickly see a swing in favor of the amendment. I’ve promised such in the past, and surely delivered.” His voice held a tone of conclusion, as though the conversation was nearing a decisive end.
Yared nodded. “Alright, councilor. I understand. I’m still having a hard time internalizing it, but I’ll work on that. Should I expect further instructions?”
“You’ll get them, yes, but for now, please enjoy a few days off from the issue. You’ve done your work for now, let it simmer, and then you can come back to it. I know it’ll be hard to do, but I trust you’ll find a way. Enjoy good food. Drink good coffee. Talk with good friends.” That avuncular smile returned. “You deserve it, Mr. Zerezghi. And, as always, thank you for all of your hard work.”
And with that, the driver pulled the door open, and it was back out into the heat of the day for him. The heat of the day, the real world, and hopefully a bit of space from the stress. Hopefully. Hopefully he’d be able to let it go for a few days.
He didn’t believe it for a second.
Ioan Bălan—2325
If, Ioan thought, there was a version of Dear’s sim—that sprawling, unending shortgrass prairie—that had existed to perfect trees instead of grass, it was this place.
May had told em that Serene had designed this sim, just as she had Dear’s prairie. In that sense, it felt much the same; if Serene had any hallmarks of design, it seemed to be a focus on wind and weather, an unerring attention to plant life, and a fondness for the fractal textures of the ground. It was easy enough to design with right angles, flat planes, level ground. As building was something more akin to daydreaming, it was natural landscapes that were the hard ones to get the tiny details correct.
It was no surprise that this sim had been designed for another Odist. Where Dear had fallen in love with the endless prairie and Michelle the flowing fields of dandelion dotted grass, Do I Know God After The End Waking had fallen in love with trees.
When ey first arrived, ey had done so outside of a smallish A-frame building, more tent than anything, for it was built of rough-hewn planks set into the classical shape with an oiled canvas draped over it to create the walls. Even the floor was made of those rough planks, though much of it appeared to have been worn smooth after countless years of foot—or paw—traffic.
Peeking inside revealed a simple cot made of more canvas stretched over a frame and a pillow of some sort of bundle, a battered roll-top desk with a low stool in front of it (Ioan found emself desperately wanting something similar upon seeing them), and a small wood-burning stove in the back where the far wall had been created using rammed earth instead of more canvas.
Ey immediately fell in love with it, and hoped that ey’d like End Waking well enough to visit again.
He was nowhere to be seen, though. The rundown of his appearance from May was of a skunk like herself, male, and “heavily committed to the ranger aesthetic. Cloak, hatchet, bow, the works”.
Ioan sat on the steps in front of the tent and waited, hoping perhaps that ey had simply arrived too early for the scheduled meeting. It was a pleasant wait, at least, and a welcome break from the increasing tension that ey had been feeling within as more and more information about the Odists had come to light. Eir own interviews, as well as news from the Codrins and Dears had left em anxious more often than not, and even though ey did eir best to keep that feeling away from eir interactions with May, there was still no denying that she was an Odist as well.
The skunk’s arrival was something of a surprise, as what ey had initially taken to be one of those wandering breezes fingering ferns and branches slowly resolved into a humanoid form walking silently between the trees.
“Mx. Bălan,” the form murmured, tugging back the hood that hid most of its face to reveal the familiar white-striped black snout. “Sorry for keeping you waiting. I was exploring.”
Ioan stood and bowed politely. “No problem. Exploring, though? I would’ve thought that you’d know the area around your home fairly well by now.”
The skunk smiled. His features were undeniably those of an Odist—at least those of the skunk variety—while still being unique. They were more masculine in a way that ey could not place. More rugged. Dirtier. Certainly more exhausted. “One never truly finishes exploring a forest. I was climbing the trees.”
“That sounds enjoyable, at least.”
“Not at all.” He laughed. “I am terrified of heights.”
“Then why–”
“Exploring is a process that is also the goal. Why not undertake that process fully? Surely you know that of us by now.”
Ey grinned, nodding. “I suppose I do, at that. Either way, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, as well. I would shake your hand, but I am currently quite disgusting.” He brushed crushed leaves off his arms and the backs of his hands. “Come, though. I will clean up and make us some tea.”
This process took nearly half an hour, during which ey had to remind emself that there was no rush, no reason to hurry. Ey sat on the edge of End Waking’s cot while the skunk puttered around the tent, doffing his cloak to leave him in a greenish-brown shirt and canvas leggings that were a brown so dark as to be almost black. He set about filling a small basin with water in which to wash his paws. This used up the last of the water inside, so he had to step out and collect some more from a barrel just outside the door, run it through a cloth filter into a battered kettle, which was set on the stove. The embers had apparently burnt low, so he then had to go collect an armful of firewood from beneath one of the ‘eaves’ of the tent where it was kept dry and then stoke the fire back up to an intense blaze using some complex set of steps that Ioan could never have understood. Finding the promised tea had required digging through the creaky drawers of the desk to find the fist-sized crock of various dried leaves.
“Lemon balm, mint, and dried gooseberry. I am sorry that I cannot offer anything more exciting. Tea does not grow here.”
Ioan laughed. “I’ve never had either lemon balm or gooseberry, so it sounds exciting to me. It certainly smells delightful.”
End Waking beamed at the compliment, and shortly had dug out two enamel camp mugs, blown the dust free from the less-used one, and then tipped a small amount of tea into the bottoms of each. “You will have to strain it through your teeth. I do not have a teapot either. The ingredients are all edible on their own, though, so I usually just wind up eating them.”
The whole experience was so delightfully out of place for all of the Odists ey had met so far that Ioan was rapt.
At the end of the extended tea-making procedure, ey was left with a steaming mug of slowly darkening tea, leaves of mint and melissa floating to the top while broken chunks of gooseberry sunk to the bottom. It smelled wonderful, a type of fragrance that immediately made em feel comfortable and soothed.
If May’s clade exists to shape the minds and emotions of people, ey thought. He’s doing an admirable job.
“We will sit and talk for a bit, though I must warn you that I get antsy very easily and will likely request that we walk after we finish our tea.”
“Alright,” ey said. “I usually write notes on the interviews, but I’m sure I’ll remember just fine.”
The skunk gave em an unreadable expression, then nodded. “Right, yes. That whole business. Where do you wish to start?”
“Well, I’ve got some fairly standard questions that I’ve been asking everyone, then we can get to the more meaty stuff. If we have time afterwards, I’d like to ask you more about this,” ey said, gesturing around at the tent, out the still-open flap.
“I will look forward to that, then. It sounds like you have a shit sandwich for me, anyhow.”
Ioan laughed. “I’d not heard that term until May used it. I like it.”
End Waking grinned toothily.
After taking another sip of the tisane and chewing on the resulting leaves, ey asked, “You’re obviously still here on the L5 System, but did you send a fork along on the LVs?”
He shook his head. “I did not. I am sure you will ask more about why as the questioning goes on, but for now, I’ll say that there are some intraclade politics that left a sour taste in my mouth about the whole thing.”
“If you’re ever uncomfortable with a question, feel free to tell me you’d not like to answer.”
End Waking nodded.
“Were you involved in Launch at all? Was that part of the politics?”
“Ioan, I was promised a shit-sandwich, but so far it is an open-faced one,” he said, laughing to take the sting out of the words. “I did not. And, to preempt your next question, I had not yet been forked during Secession, so I did not take part in that, either. I was forked a few decades after Secession.”
“May I ask why?”
“You may, but give me a second to consider my answer.”
A moment was spent sipping tea in silence, only the muffled crackling of the fire in the stove and the breeze testing at the flaps of the tent.
Eventually, the skunk spoke up once more. “From what May Then My Name and others have said, the Bălan clade and the elements of the Ode clade working with them have already reached certain bits of knowledge, so I will be up front about this.”
Ioan nodded.
“I was forked in order to help influence financial policies phys-side to encourage certain attitudes toward the System.”
Ioan attempted to keep eir face impassive, but ey must have let some of eir reaction show, as End Waking laughed tiredly.
“I am sorry. I am not proud of what I did, and that is why I am here and not out in the world, bowing to the whims of my down-tree instances and their interests. My role was taken over by a member of the Jonas clade.”
“I’ve heard that name several times so far. He’s on my list to interview.”
The skunk sighed, nodded, sipped his tea. “I suppose he is.”
“Do you have any suggestions for what to ask him?”
“No. He will control the interview from start to finish. I am told that one of your cocladists has already interviewed True Name. If she learned from anyone, it was Jonas. There is no hope of trying to own the interview, no need to try and guide the questions.”
“I’ll admit that I’m starting to feel in over my head.”
End Waking raised his mug toward em in a toast. “We all are, Ioan. Only, you and precious few others realize that now.”
“So, I guess for my next question, What does it mean that you influenced the finances phys-side?”
“It was largely a matter of politicking. Strings to pull, ears to whisper into, suggestions made on both the governmental and DDR level. We played them like a finely-tuned instrument, the Odists and the Jonas clade. I would have long, serious talks with politicians; longer, more fun talks with DDR junkies, bless their stupid, stupid hearts. I coordinated with others to help influence sentiment here sys-side, encouraging people to write home and suggest to their families that they consider all of this in a way that aligned with our goals.”
“What were your goals?”
The skunk finished his tea and spent a moment fishing all of the leaves and berries from the bottom of his mug to the rim so that he could eat them, as promised. It meant a moment of downtime, during which Ioan sipped eir own tea.
Sitting back and curling his tail absentmindedly into his lap to brush it free of leaves and twigs, End Waking said, “Short term, to lower the cost of uploading and make it seem ever more appealing. Middle-term, the goal was to pass the legislation that led to several governments paying families when an individual uploaded. It started as a sort of subsidy for the lost income, and I think some locales still think of it that way, but it quickly turned into an incentive. Did you have any siblings, Ioan?”
Ey nodded.
“And were you the eldest?”
Ey frowned, nodded again.
“We planted an idea, a subtle one, that it might be a good idea for the eldest child to upload and use the payout to fund a better life for the other children.”
“I never heard anyone–”
“This is what I mean by subtle. It was not something anyone really talked about. It was simply a convention that formed over time, and for everyone who followed it, the idea seemed to come to them of their own accord.”
“But it didn’t. It came from you.”
The skunk winced. “Yes, it came from me.”
Ioan sighed and, seeing nowhere else to put it, set eir mug on the floor by the bed.
“I feel compelled to repeat that I am not at all proud of what I did. This–” He gestured around. “This is my penance. I live my life in solitude in a place that does not know money, does not know the subtle machinations of politics, and should either of those enter, would not care one bit about them. People think of forests as fragile areas of land, and while this is true, they are also giant—truly enormous—singular entities that do not give a single, solitary fuck about you and your schemes, your thoughts, or your emotions. I have stumbled into ravines. I have had dead branches fall on me. I have gotten caught in land-slides, mud-slides, and flash-floods. I have learned the hard way which plants are safe to eat. I have bled on the land.” There was a long pause before he continued, “I hesitate to say that the forest hates me, but it comes perilously close. This is my penance.”
“Of course, but it is the first time it’s been put in front of everyone as something they must consider.”
Yared frowned. “If that’s the case, then perhaps we should have waited for a separate referendum.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Demma smiled, looking very much the kind, grandfatherly type. “Or rather, our analysts didn’t think so. They ran several situations through their various models and came to the conclusion that an amendment was the best path forward.”
“Why, though? I don’t see how introducing something so divisive would lead to anything other than either the entire referendum getting thrown out or, at best, delaying the process for months.”
“There may indeed be a small delay as debate kicks up again.” Demma nodded toward Yared. “Which we will help you participate in, much as we have up to this point. Still, broaching the idea as an amendment is a good way to get this idea in the forefront of people’s minds. They can have the debate with lower pressure on acceptance. They can always vote on the original referendum without passing the amendment, correct?”
Yared nodded.
“So, if that happens, at that point, we can spin it off into its own referendum, and by then, much of the debate will have already taken place, and we can continue to work through the whole process calmly, as we have been.” He spread his hands, still smiling. “It is all a matter of risk management, Mr. Zerezghi. You understand.”
“I suppose.”
“Have you had a chance to speak with Jonas and his strangely named friend yet?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. Like I said, I started to panic and went for my walk.”
Demma nodded. “I suggest you do as soon as you get back. I’m curious to hear their opinion on the result of this amendment. I suspect they are equally curious to hear your opinion. Please report back to me what they say, as you have been.”
“Alright.”
“Now, here are my thoughts on the matter,” the councilor said. “I think the amendment will be successful, and I have three reasons why. First of all, the DDR is far easier to send into a fit than you might be giving it credit for. We’ve watched it for decades now. It has a very short attention span, and dramatic reactions are part of that. Voters will work themselves up into a froth on whatever the current issue is, but there will always be another issue.
“Second, there will be another referendum introduced in December. It is already being drafted up in Cairo, and will involve some issue of mid-level consequence, but one that will be of interest to many of the regular DDR voices. You’ll have to pardon me for not giving you more information until the referendum is made public, but I can tell you that it will involve both the subcommittees on environment and land management.”
Yared blinked. Demma was right, of course, anything to deal with land rights, especially here in the Northeast African Coalition, was bound to draw many of the loudest DDR junkies, himself included.
“Should I take part in that conversation, too?” he asked.
“You can if you’d like, so long as you don’t drop your focus on the current referendum completely. I don’t imagine you will, given that your name is on an amendment.”
He nodded.
“The third reason, however, is that there is more going on behind the scenes on the governmental level than you are privy to. It’s often fashionable to ascribe ill intentions to politicians, but that is because they have often borne out when scandals come to light.
“There is nothing scandal-worthy here, but there are still strings to be pulled. The correct hands shaken, the correct babies kissed, the correct promises of support on the correct issues. Some of those strings are the ones that everyone can see: the campaign contributions, the baby-kissing, the promises. Some of them are not, though. Thinly veiled threats, intimidation. Who knows, perhaps even some market meddling.”
Yared’s baseline frown deepened, to which Demma laughed.
“Politics is politics, my dear Yared. It is a game, as I’m sure you’ve guessed from your interactions with Jonas, just one with high stakes. When there are high stakes, one must use all the tools at one’s disposal, savory or otherwise.”
“I understand,” he said, still feeling that tension in his shoulders.
Still smiling, Demma soothed, “You have made your own harsh comments, I know. You have questioned your opponent’s competency. You have suggested that perhaps others band up against them and nudge them out of the debate. You have the very same toolkit, if only on a smaller scale.”
He finally let his shoulders sag.
“So,” the councilor said, ticking off on his fingers. “The DDR is easily distracted, an additional distraction will be provided, and politics will be done where required. I promise that you’ll quickly see a swing in favor of the amendment. I’ve promised such in the past, and surely delivered.” His voice held a tone of conclusion, as though the conversation was nearing a decisive end.
Yared nodded. “Alright, councilor. I understand. I’m still having a hard time internalizing it, but I’ll work on that. Should I expect further instructions?”
“You’ll get them, yes, but for now, please enjoy a few days off from the issue. You’ve done your work for now, let it simmer, and then you can come back to it. I know it’ll be hard to do, but I trust you’ll find a way. Enjoy good food. Drink good coffee. Talk with good friends.” That avuncular smile returned. “You deserve it, Mr. Zerezghi. And, as always, thank you for all of your hard work.”
And with that, the driver pulled the door open, and it was back out into the heat of the day for him. The heat of the day, the real world, and hopefully a bit of space from the stress. Hopefully. Hopefully he’d be able to let it go for a few days.
He didn’t believe it for a second.
Ioan Bălan—2325
If, Ioan thought, there was a version of Dear’s sim—that sprawling, unending shortgrass prairie—that had existed to perfect trees instead of grass, it was this place.
May had told em that Serene had designed this sim, just as she had Dear’s prairie. In that sense, it felt much the same; if Serene had any hallmarks of design, it seemed to be a focus on wind and weather, an unerring attention to plant life, and a fondness for the fractal textures of the ground. It was easy enough to design with right angles, flat planes, level ground. As building was something more akin to daydreaming, it was natural landscapes that were the hard ones to get the tiny details correct.
It was no surprise that this sim had been designed for another Odist. Where Dear had fallen in love with the endless prairie and Michelle the flowing fields of dandelion dotted grass, Do I Know God After The End Waking had fallen in love with trees.
When ey first arrived, ey had done so outside of a smallish A-frame building, more tent than anything, for it was built of rough-hewn planks set into the classical shape with an oiled canvas draped over it to create the walls. Even the floor was made of those rough planks, though much of it appeared to have been worn smooth after countless years of foot—or paw—traffic.
Peeking inside revealed a simple cot made of more canvas stretched over a frame and a pillow of some sort of bundle, a battered roll-top desk with a low stool in front of it (Ioan found emself desperately wanting something similar upon seeing them), and a small wood-burning stove in the back where the far wall had been created using rammed earth instead of more canvas.
Ey immediately fell in love with it, and hoped that ey’d like End Waking well enough to visit again.
He was nowhere to be seen, though. The rundown of his appearance from May was of a skunk like herself, male, and “heavily committed to the ranger aesthetic. Cloak, hatchet, bow, the works”.
Ioan sat on the steps in front of the tent and waited, hoping perhaps that ey had simply arrived too early for the scheduled meeting. It was a pleasant wait, at least, and a welcome break from the increasing tension that ey had been feeling within as more and more information about the Odists had come to light. Eir own interviews, as well as news from the Codrins and Dears had left em anxious more often than not, and even though ey did eir best to keep that feeling away from eir interactions with May, there was still no denying that she was an Odist as well.
The skunk’s arrival was something of a surprise, as what ey had initially taken to be one of those wandering breezes fingering ferns and branches slowly resolved into a humanoid form walking silently between the trees.
“Mx. Bălan,” the form murmured, tugging back the hood that hid most of its face to reveal the familiar white-striped black snout. “Sorry for keeping you waiting. I was exploring.”
Ioan stood and bowed politely. “No problem. Exploring, though? I would’ve thought that you’d know the area around your home fairly well by now.”
The skunk smiled. His features were undeniably those of an Odist—at least those of the skunk variety—while still being unique. They were more masculine in a way that ey could not place. More rugged. Dirtier. Certainly more exhausted. “One never truly finishes exploring a forest. I was climbing the trees.”
“That sounds enjoyable, at least.”
“Not at all.” He laughed. “I am terrified of heights.”
“Then why–”
“Exploring is a process that is also the goal. Why not undertake that process fully? Surely you know that of us by now.”
Ey grinned, nodding. “I suppose I do, at that. Either way, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, as well. I would shake your hand, but I am currently quite disgusting.” He brushed crushed leaves off his arms and the backs of his hands. “Come, though. I will clean up and make us some tea.”
This process took nearly half an hour, during which ey had to remind emself that there was no rush, no reason to hurry. Ey sat on the edge of End Waking’s cot while the skunk puttered around the tent, doffing his cloak to leave him in a greenish-brown shirt and canvas leggings that were a brown so dark as to be almost black. He set about filling a small basin with water in which to wash his paws. This used up the last of the water inside, so he had to step out and collect some more from a barrel just outside the door, run it through a cloth filter into a battered kettle, which was set on the stove. The embers had apparently burnt low, so he then had to go collect an armful of firewood from beneath one of the ‘eaves’ of the tent where it was kept dry and then stoke the fire back up to an intense blaze using some complex set of steps that Ioan could never have understood. Finding the promised tea had required digging through the creaky drawers of the desk to find the fist-sized crock of various dried leaves.
“Lemon balm, mint, and dried gooseberry. I am sorry that I cannot offer anything more exciting. Tea does not grow here.”
Ioan laughed. “I’ve never had either lemon balm or gooseberry, so it sounds exciting to me. It certainly smells delightful.”
End Waking beamed at the compliment, and shortly had dug out two enamel camp mugs, blown the dust free from the less-used one, and then tipped a small amount of tea into the bottoms of each. “You will have to strain it through your teeth. I do not have a teapot either. The ingredients are all edible on their own, though, so I usually just wind up eating them.”
The whole experience was so delightfully out of place for all of the Odists ey had met so far that Ioan was rapt.
At the end of the extended tea-making procedure, ey was left with a steaming mug of slowly darkening tea, leaves of mint and melissa floating to the top while broken chunks of gooseberry sunk to the bottom. It smelled wonderful, a type of fragrance that immediately made em feel comfortable and soothed.
If May’s clade exists to shape the minds and emotions of people, ey thought. He’s doing an admirable job.
“We will sit and talk for a bit, though I must warn you that I get antsy very easily and will likely request that we walk after we finish our tea.”
“Alright,” ey said. “I usually write notes on the interviews, but I’m sure I’ll remember just fine.”
The skunk gave em an unreadable expression, then nodded. “Right, yes. That whole business. Where do you wish to start?”
“Well, I’ve got some fairly standard questions that I’ve been asking everyone, then we can get to the more meaty stuff. If we have time afterwards, I’d like to ask you more about this,” ey said, gesturing around at the tent, out the still-open flap.
“I will look forward to that, then. It sounds like you have a shit sandwich for me, anyhow.”
Ioan laughed. “I’d not heard that term until May used it. I like it.”
End Waking grinned toothily.
After taking another sip of the tisane and chewing on the resulting leaves, ey asked, “You’re obviously still here on the L5 System, but did you send a fork along on the LVs?”
He shook his head. “I did not. I am sure you will ask more about why as the questioning goes on, but for now, I’ll say that there are some intraclade politics that left a sour taste in my mouth about the whole thing.”
“If you’re ever uncomfortable with a question, feel free to tell me you’d not like to answer.”
End Waking nodded.
“Were you involved in Launch at all? Was that part of the politics?”
“Ioan, I was promised a shit-sandwich, but so far it is an open-faced one,” he said, laughing to take the sting out of the words. “I did not. And, to preempt your next question, I had not yet been forked during Secession, so I did not take part in that, either. I was forked a few decades after Secession.”
“May I ask why?”
“You may, but give me a second to consider my answer.”
A moment was spent sipping tea in silence, only the muffled crackling of the fire in the stove and the breeze testing at the flaps of the tent.
Eventually, the skunk spoke up once more. “From what May Then My Name and others have said, the Bălan clade and the elements of the Ode clade working with them have already reached certain bits of knowledge, so I will be up front about this.”
Ioan nodded.
“I was forked in order to help influence financial policies phys-side to encourage certain attitudes toward the System.”
Ioan attempted to keep eir face impassive, but ey must have let some of eir reaction show, as End Waking laughed tiredly.
“I am sorry. I am not proud of what I did, and that is why I am here and not out in the world, bowing to the whims of my down-tree instances and their interests. My role was taken over by a member of the Jonas clade.”
“I’ve heard that name several times so far. He’s on my list to interview.”
The skunk sighed, nodded, sipped his tea. “I suppose he is.”
“Do you have any suggestions for what to ask him?”
“No. He will control the interview from start to finish. I am told that one of your cocladists has already interviewed True Name. If she learned from anyone, it was Jonas. There is no hope of trying to own the interview, no need to try and guide the questions.”
“I’ll admit that I’m starting to feel in over my head.”
End Waking raised his mug toward em in a toast. “We all are, Ioan. Only, you and precious few others realize that now.”
“So, I guess for my next question, What does it mean that you influenced the finances phys-side?”
“It was largely a matter of politicking. Strings to pull, ears to whisper into, suggestions made on both the governmental and DDR level. We played them like a finely-tuned instrument, the Odists and the Jonas clade. I would have long, serious talks with politicians; longer, more fun talks with DDR junkies, bless their stupid, stupid hearts. I coordinated with others to help influence sentiment here sys-side, encouraging people to write home and suggest to their families that they consider all of this in a way that aligned with our goals.”
“What were your goals?”
The skunk finished his tea and spent a moment fishing all of the leaves and berries from the bottom of his mug to the rim so that he could eat them, as promised. It meant a moment of downtime, during which Ioan sipped eir own tea.
Sitting back and curling his tail absentmindedly into his lap to brush it free of leaves and twigs, End Waking said, “Short term, to lower the cost of uploading and make it seem ever more appealing. Middle-term, the goal was to pass the legislation that led to several governments paying families when an individual uploaded. It started as a sort of subsidy for the lost income, and I think some locales still think of it that way, but it quickly turned into an incentive. Did you have any siblings, Ioan?”
Ey nodded.
“And were you the eldest?”
Ey frowned, nodded again.
“We planted an idea, a subtle one, that it might be a good idea for the eldest child to upload and use the payout to fund a better life for the other children.”
“I never heard anyone–”
“This is what I mean by subtle. It was not something anyone really talked about. It was simply a convention that formed over time, and for everyone who followed it, the idea seemed to come to them of their own accord.”
“But it didn’t. It came from you.”
The skunk winced. “Yes, it came from me.”
Ioan sighed and, seeing nowhere else to put it, set eir mug on the floor by the bed.
“I feel compelled to repeat that I am not at all proud of what I did. This–” He gestured around. “This is my penance. I live my life in solitude in a place that does not know money, does not know the subtle machinations of politics, and should either of those enter, would not care one bit about them. People think of forests as fragile areas of land, and while this is true, they are also giant—truly enormous—singular entities that do not give a single, solitary fuck about you and your schemes, your thoughts, or your emotions. I have stumbled into ravines. I have had dead branches fall on me. I have gotten caught in land-slides, mud-slides, and flash-floods. I have learned the hard way which plants are safe to eat. I have bled on the land.” There was a long pause before he continued, “I hesitate to say that the forest hates me, but it comes perilously close. This is my penance.”
