Ioan Bălan — 2346

Convergence T-plus 30 days, 15 hours, 47 minutes
(Castor–Lagrange transmission delay: 30 days, 14 hours, 36 minutes)

Ioan#98ae38dc arrived at the appointed coffee shop a good hour in advance. The meeting had been eir idea, but it had also been eir primary source of stress during the day prior to it.

The idea of meeting up with True Name in a neutral setting had not gone over as poorly as feared with May. She hadn’t been pleased, to be sure, but given the news from Castor, she had accepted that the chance of further contact with her down-tree instance was likely anyway, and had stated that she was unwilling to engage with her further on the point so ey might as well.

So, ey had forked, given her double kisses on the cheeks along with #Tracker, and stepped away to sit and fret somewhere where ey’d not be a bother.

The coffee shop was quite comfortable, familiar from when ey’d first met Dear so many years ago. A cozy affair set in a simulacrum of a small town. Cute shops, gas lamps, brick-paved roads.

Inside, ey staked out an L-shaped couch for their meeting and sat, sipping eir way slowly through first a coffee and then a tea, figuring that eir nerves were jangly enough without the added caffeine.

True Name arrived fifteen minutes before their scheduled meeting, looking far more collected and confident, far more herself, than she had the last time ey’d seen her. She smiled brightly to em, ordered her drink, and then sat primly on the couch across from em, blinking a cone of silence into existence as she did so.

“Mx. Bălan, thank you for meeting with me. I was surprised — pleasantly so — to have received your invitation.”

Ey nodded. “Thank you for accepting. I figured it might be nice to have a calmer conversation than our last one. I want to make sure that we stay on at least polite terms as…in-laws of a sort.”

There was no shift in the skunk’s attentive expression, nor in her posture. She simply nodded and took a few laps of her drink, wiping a dollop of whipped cream from her nose after. “I appreciate that. I understand that our dynamic is complex and that of May Then My Name and I all the more so. We will never be close, you and I, but I can accept that.”

“Right, and I don’t want all of our interactions to be stressful.”

“If you will forgive a bit of small talk, may I ask after your partner’s well-being, at least? I understand through intraclade communications that she had…that there was…”

“She wound up overflowing, yeah. She’s bounced back well enough for the most part, and we’ve been back at work.”

True Name nodded, a hint of a bow. “Thank you, Ioan. It is encouraging to hear. And you are working on a play regarding our visitors on Castor?”

“Bit by bit,” ey said. “I add to it every time we get a bit of news. That was another reason I wanted to meet up.”

The calm smile that the skunk had been wearing slipped down into something more businesslike. “Yes. May I ask what information you have received?”

Ioan pulled the few sheets of folded paper from eir pocket and unfolded them, skimming through the notes. “The talks have begun and sound like they’re going well enough on Castor, but that True Name and Why Ask Questions on Artemis are struggling, though they’ve been working through it as best they can. That’s the last I’ve heard.”

Ey handed over the letters, already trimmed of clade-eyes-only and other personal information. True Name read through them quickly, nodding.

“We have heard much the same. It was a calculated risk, sending myself and Why Ask Questions rather than a Jonas or someone else less affected by this time skew that they have mentioned.”

“It sounds reminiscent of what I saw of Michelle. Certainly unpleasant.”

She sat in silence for a few long seconds, both paws wrapped around her wide-brimmed mug of coffee. Her face was impassive and posture unreadable. Even her eyes remained fixed on some spot over eir shoulder, unmoving. She seemed frozen.

“True Name?”

“No,” she said at last, her shoulders sagging a fraction of an inch, enough to show some level of exhaustion that had previously been hidden. “It does not sound pleasant.”

“End Waking put it, “when presented with the fragility of eternity once more, I cannot imagine that I would remain sane”. None of the Odists I’ve talked to sound happy about this.”

“We are not,” she said. “Ioan, may I ask that we talk about–”

“In a moment, True Name, I promise.” Ey took a deep breath, setting eir tea down on the table in front of the couch, turning to face the skunk. “Again, I don’t want to leave the air clouded between us, but this is important to me, too. I’m sure you understand.”

She nodded, straightening up as though steeling herself for a coming blow. “I imagine it is. Then yes, it is unpleasant. I do not think that either of my cocladists aboard Artemis are in any imminent danger, but it is bringing uncomfortable memories to the fore.”

“End Waking said that, too. I have my concerns for your cocladists aboard Artemis, but I’m more worried about these uncomfortable memories cropping up across the clade.”

“This is about Death Itself and I Do Not Know, is it not?” she asked, voice quiet, tightly controlled.

Ey nodded.

True Name clutched her coffee closer to her chest, as though that might serve to shield her. It certainly felt as though she was struggling not to close herself off from the topic entirely. “We are very old, Ioan, and the implication of eternity has affected us all differently. I am beginning to think that it has less to do with memory than we had all originally suspected, but all the same, we have all begun to struggle through the centuries.”

Ey nodded, but remained silent. She was speaking slowly, and did not appear to have finished.

“I did not talk with Death Itself much, and I was never able to speak with I Do Not Know. I did not know them except through observation. I am sorry– no.” She shook her head, frowning. “I was going to say that I am sorry that they are no longer with us, but you know as well as I that this is not some small loss for us to be brushed away with thoughts and prayers, even for those of us who did not speak with them. Sad is not the correct term. I am anxious.”

“Anxious of how this madness, as End Waking called it, might affect you and yours?”

She nodded, averting her eyes. “I am fucking terrified, Ioan. What am I to do in the face of such enormity?”

Ey blinked, taken aback. This was not how ey’d imagined the conversation would go. Ey’d pictured her providing some glib explanation for what was happening and perhaps outlining the steps that she and her close cocladists were taking to control the situation. Ey was expecting her to steer em towards confidence in her, and hopefully even to soothe eir fears about May through doing so.

This wasn’t the True Name ey remembered.

Ey prowled through memories of the conversations ey’d had with her over the years — several, during those first few years after launch, then the rapid decrease after the publication of the History — and tallied up each against the next.

“You’ve changed quite a bit, True Name,” ey said. “I don’t know what you’re supposed to do, that’s out of my league. I’m sorry. Trust me when I say I wish I could help. I just…you seem like you’re struggling.”

Ey watched as she bridled, subsided, nodded. “I am not what I was.”

“What changed?”

She shrugged helplessly. “If I knew, perhaps I could fix it, bring back that easy confidence.”

The conversation was veering further off-script. The skunk herself was veering far afield from the one ey’d pictured in eir head. “Your counterpart on Castor sounds much the same as I remember. The True Name on Pollux has, from what I hear, wound up in a relationship and started to guide more openly over the last few years.”

Looking down to where she held her mug against her front, True Name blinked rapidly, nodding.

Tears? Really? Ey frowned, searching her face and posture for any hint that this was some calculated display of emotion, then chided emself for such cynicism.

“Is it something about the Lagrange System?” ey asked, hunting for something to fix, helpless to stop emself from doing so. Some anxiety over that lack of control drove em to try and smooth out the situation somehow. “Is the culture that different here? Maybe something about the System itself? I’m trying to think of what might be different.”

“I do not know, Ioan.” She sniffed, sat up straighter, and smiled tiredly at em. “Again, if I did, perhaps there might be something that I could do to address it. I know what I am — what I have become — in comparison to my peers. While I am trying not to view that as a failing, it is…difficult.”

“Something with Jonas, perhaps?”

She winced and looked away, ears pinned flat.

Ey had to resist the urge to reach out and offer her eir hand to hold for comfort as ey did so often with May. They looked so similar, even still, even after centuries of divergence, and all the more so when struggling with overwhelming emotions.

She must have caught some slight movement or hint of this on eir face or in eir posture, as she chuckled. “If I were built more like your May Then My Name, then perhaps I could more easily accept comfort, but I am not. Thank you for listening, though. I cannot talk about these things with many others.”

Ey laughed, shrugging sheepishly. “Sorry, True Name. Long habit. Still, I’m happy to listen. I know that my relationship puts us in a precarious position relative to each other and there are still some aspects about our history that are…difficult to internalize, but, well–” Ey sat up straighter at a sudden memory. “Hey, have you talked with In Dreams yet? Or this Sarah Genet?”

“I have spoken with In Dreams, yes,” she said, tilting her head. “Though I am not sure in what capacity you mean. She has kept me up to date on the cross-clade issues. I only know the name Sarah Genet from the communications from Castor.”

“Really? I thought that they had been in contact with all of the clade they could,” ey said, frowning. “But perhaps that’s still in progress. Either way, you mentioned having someone to talk to, and In Dreams has suggested taking a therapeutic approach to this. She and Ms. Genet have been working on setting up a course of therapy sessions for Odists and a few of the other old clades that are struggling. Perhaps that’s something that could help. May has an appointment in a few days.” Ey hastened to add, “I’m still happy to listen, but I’m hardly trained in that.”

The skunk laughed, and it was difficult to miss the bitter tone in her voice. “I spoke with In Dreams this morning and had not heard this. Perhaps it is an issue of priority.”

Eir frown deepened.

She made a setting-aside gesture, one ey’d grown used to from May, as though the topic were unimportant, not worth discussing. “I will contact them. Thank you for suggesting that, Mx. Bălan. Even if they are unwilling to help, it is probably a good idea that I seek out therapy. Lord knows I need it.”

Ey nodded, wary to continue. As the silence that followed stretched out, ey retrieved eir tea and sipped it before it grew too cold.

“Why are you happy to listen to me, Ioan?”

Ey shook emself from eir own rumination and back to the present. “I’m sorry?”

True Name smiled. “You said that you were happy to listen to me. Your partner hates me — let us not mince words: she hates me and I have grown to accept that as best I can. You are close, as partners should be, and you have as much reason to hate me as anyone, and yet you met me here — asked to meet me here, even — and say that you are happy to listen. Why?”

“Oh. Well,” ey began, then stalled out. Ey raced through eir memories for a reason ey could articulate. “It was something that Codrin#Castor said. Em and Dear both, actually. Codrin passed on a letter that Codrin#Artemis sent, saying that it has been difficult emotionally to watch what ey remembers from Michelle in your cocladists. When ey mentioned the time skew to it, Dear said to be watchful around your counterpart, saying, ‘remember what I said: even True Name has emotions, even she will be affected’.”

The skunk sat back, looking stunned, then choked out a half-laugh-half-sob, setting her mug down on the table so that she could rub her paws firmly over her face, leaving them to cover it. “Even I have emotions. Even I!” she said between deep breaths. “I know that your cocladist and Dear meant well by this, but how damning an indictment. Even I.”

“I’m sorry, True Name.”

She shook her head, took a moment to regain her composure, and said, “No, I suppose I do, at that. It is difficult to remember even from the inside, my dear. Thank you for reminding me, and thank you for listening.”

The skunk reached out a paw toward em and, after a moment’s hesitation, ey took it and gave it what ey hoped was a comforting squeeze. Ey was once more startled by the similarity of her to May: the softness of her fur, the satiny feel of her pads, those well-kept claws.

She laughed and shook her head, pulling her paw back. “How silly. I believe I stand by my assessment that comfort through physicality is not for me, but thank you all the same. That you have the capacity to comfort…well, even me does mean a lot, Ioan. I appreciate your empathy.”

Ey smiled cautiously. “Worth a try, I suppose.”

“Yes. Worth a try.” She stood slowly and gave a hint of a bow. “I have much to think about, Mx. Bălan, and a message to send to Ms. Genet. Please spend some quality time with your partner tonight, and I hope to see you in the future.”

“Of course. Until next time.”

She bowed again and stepped from the sim, leaving em to sit on the couch and finish eir tea, mulling over the differences between changing and forgetting. Without forgetting, all True Name had, all they all had, was the ability to change, and all they could do was hope that this would be enough to keep them all sane.