[SESSION id=0.12]: Switch Case
Something true
"Is there are reason you don't want me at Central?" Gentle, soft. As kind as I could muster. "Both the inspector and Miss Cloud made it seem like if I left Transverse, they'd wish they were fired."
Jazz didn't answer immediately. Just kept pulling me along without telling me what we were doing. After a long time, she finally spoke. "There are several answers. All of them equally true. I'd like to prioritise the order I say them if that's fine."
"Good enough, I suppose." I'd been known to do similar things with highly complex inquiries. "So long as it's not 'I am embarrassed of you', I can take nearly anything."
She stopped. Met my questioning gaze. Her eyes were already glistening. "I spent fifteen supercycles wondering what I did wrong to lose you. Now you're back, and I'm doing everything I can to not make it happen again." She took a long cool breath. I hadn't noticed the weather stayed fairly cold after our show. "Embarrassed is so far from reality you can't even fathom it."
"Not to be difficult, but I was just trying to say that was one of the only things that would be a problem." Her sharp scowl told me that wasn't the right thing to say.
"Think of it like this, Lillian." She took another long breath. "You likely don't notice it, being like you are, but you stare at me. You never take your eyes off of me. Someone would notice. And then we'd be stuck."
"I do not stare."
"Alright. Fine. If you don't stare at me, how many people have walked past in the last five degrees?" She waited. Must have seen the worry in my face. I didn't know. "More than that, can you tell me the colour of the sign we passed thirty cycle ticks before we stopped?"
"Trick question. Every sign in [city[0]] is yellow." I was confident in that response.
"You see?" She started dragging us back the way we came. Not another word. "You stare at me so much you don't notice when something is out of place. Someone would notice. And then both of us would be out of employment."
"Not embarrassed, but worried I'm too awkward for my own good?" Her grin told me I'd parsed it. She pointed at the sign. It was crimson red. An alert for a bakery I'd never heard of. "Will you look at that. Are there other non-yellow signs."
Jazz's uncontained laughter was something else. It shook me. Like I was seeing something no one was meant to. Jazz was not of [city[0]] at her core. Rather, she was, but in the same way I was of [city[3]].
"There are twenty-three non-yellow signs in [city[0]]," the knowledge of a confident sysadmin. "All of them owned by that bakery. All of them crimson. When I first noticed, I thought it might be you, the Princess rather, but I was disappointed. The food was good. They've supplied Lyra with pastries for the last eight supercycles. I'm sure you noticed the quality change."
It had been long enough I wouldn't remember. But she was inevitably correct. So I just nodded.
"Since I found them, I've made it a point to take paths that put me in their proximity." Her face softened. "The signs are a reminder that everything isn't so rigid that change is impossible."
"Not to be an entire boob," I blushed as I said the phrase my progenitor was fond of, "but what are the other answers to my question. I stare too much, and we'd be in trouble. What else."
"Keeping a cross-code where she's safe," Jazz said, tugging my arm so we could keep walking. "Your boss has had a habit of collecting strays, and she's hired her burden of all manner of corrupt nodes without a care. Not as a reform effort, but to defend them from scrutiny. And you likely didn't even notice that."
"Not even a little," my admission drew a fond look from her. "What else?"
"I told the folks at Central a while back that you were a non-correctable type of corrupt. The kind who don't do well when things changed." That was true. I couldn't be mad about it. "When they were convinced that change-aversion was a good quality, they agreed that keeping you there was for the best. If I went back on my word now, it would create suspicion."
"Processes within processes within processes." It was dizzying. "How do you keep it all straight?"
"You may be the best tracert employee, but I'm a sysadmin. It's my job to keep everything orderly." She pulled me close, her arm moved around my waist. "And that's why they also approved me moving you into my domicile. And so many other things you never would've noticed if not for Loyal getting her nose in things." She let herself chuckle. "Although, that last one was your fault. Burning out a workstation. Irresponsible, Miss Thorn."
Something Red
The sign out front was the same colour crimson as all the alert signs we passed. As we stepped into the bakery, I was hit with it instantly. Sweet, vaguely bitter. Not quite metallic. I knew the scent, but the name wouldn't come to me. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating.
Jazz pulled us to the counter and made some sort of hand signal to the person standing there before dragging me bodily into a side room.
"What are we here for?" I raised a single brow. Would she answer? "Shouldn't we be at home resting. You said that was the plan."
"I need supplies." The answer, short as it was, didn't lack kindness.
"And you think you'll find those supplies between yeast-filled pastries shaped like the night light?" I liked the look of those. Probably to do with her name. Moon. It was an old word that meant 'the night light'. There was also a word for the skylight. 'Sun'. Such a strange thing to name a bit of nature after a family. People were truly odd before discovering The Source.
"Well, Princess," she pulled a chair out from one of the tables and indicated for me to sit, "some supplies are physical. Others are social. Others still are entirely digital, a fact you're well acquainted with." I sat, and she moved to the seat next to me. "This is two out of three. A fact that will make sense in about fifty cycle ticks."
"How do you have your entire cycle scheduled down to the tick, Jazz?" Not an accusation. Not even close.
"If I don't do it, I fall apart, just like you, love." Her hand found mine. "Halo, my mother, taught me how to manage time. She also taught me to fear it. Between those, sysadmin was the only career for me."
The inspector from earlier walked into the room. My heart leapt.
"Kin," Jazz said, standing. "You'll find I've held up my end."
"Moon," they bowed low. When they were upright, they looked directly to me. "No need to worry, ace," they didn't smile, "I'm here to understand your position. See if there's anything Central can do to assist."
"Sit, Loyal," Jazz indicated the empty chair as she reclaimed her own. "You've been briefed on executive dysfunction, which is why we now share a domicile. You've been briefed on change aversion, which is why the locked position. So let's get this over with."
They took the offered seat and proceeded to ignore me the rest of the time they were there. The conversation went back and forth between the two of them. Words exchanged. corrupt was said a dozen or more times. The bulk of it all went over my head. Every so often, Jazz would set a hand on my leg and squeeze, but she didn't look at me either.
I was a showpiece, and I was being ignored.
Were the conversation about anyone else, I might have been okay, but they were discussing me. If I understood half of it, so filled with jargon, then I'd've been able to stay with them, but it quickly tuned out, and I let myself be bathed in the warm smell of whatever was permeating the bakery.
My mind flicked back to garden and rosegarden. Two parallel workstations – well, a workstation and an old computing unit – designed with one goal in mind: make [world] better. Create positive change. Not net positive, but truly positive change. I juggled the eleven names around in my head for a while.
Who was aidan? Why did the account have complete read access? Why did accounts with higher userId values flag as creators of accounts with lower userId values? Who were those four women who kept showing up in the manual?
I began the work of deconstructing the permissions. The first byte, userspace. Elia Gideon had read-write-execute permissions to the entirety of userspace. That's how we defined Stasia as a sector. If that were the case, then Nihil Nalia, with access to all of source would be linked to Cyphera. Ayuna, logs, Sheen. Rivia, kernel, Aria.
Wait.
Aria should be an illegal name. But Even Even was dating a woman called Aria Post. She was utterly normal, so not likely to be a divine sector.
Resolving to look her up when we returned to our work, I let myself tune back into the conversation. Something about our upcoming trip.
"So you can see, Kin," Jazz sounded irritated, "that I have to have A with me, or else the work I've done would be lost."
"Yes, but you've done a lot to get A permanently fixed in that position." The inspector took a sip of some coloured liquid. Almost a silver colour. "I can likely make it happen, but it'll cost you."
"And if you don't make it happen, then it'll cost us both." Jazz growled like she had a few nights before. "So either fix it, get us on our way, or else I'll do something neither of us wants."
"Right," they were sweating. "Well, then I'll be off. You should hear something before the rest cycle."
Jazz stood in synchronisation with the inspector. "I'm so glad we could come to an agreement before A withered away from hunger." As if on cue, my stomach made a terrible sound. That caught a laugh from everyone. When had I gotten hungry? "Have a good night, Kin."
"Whatever, Moon." They bowed just as when they arrived, then downed their whole drink. "I still say A would be well served on my team, but either way, have a night."
Something Old
"So what was that all about?" We were already seated comfortably at our home workstations, a small plate of food laid out before me. I wasn't quite hungry. "And what supplies did you get from the inspector?"
"Trust and leverage," she said it without irony just before putting something in her mouth. "But more than that, I convinced Kin that our trip out of [city[0]] would serve a greater purpose."
I nodded, not looking at my own plate.
"One bite. If you take a bite, swallow, and a single sip of tea, you can log in." She'd insisted I eat. I'd insisted food wasn't necessary. She told me to sit patiently. "Bonus points if you work on exercising that voice of yours. Vocal strain is no joke, and voice training shouldn't put you out of commission for nearly a whole cycle."
My fork found a bit of green vegetable. It looked almost like a poorly balanced tree. Long, stalky, with a an odd little spear tip at the end. I bit off the spear tip. It was bitter and savoury. Just a bit oversalted. It made me long for a sip of water, but all I had was the soothing tea Jazz always gave me.
"Good girl," she said as I moved the cup from my lips moments later. "Now tell me what brightened your mood so deeply at the bakery."
"Usernames and permissions," not a complete answer, but I was in the middle of taking more bites of the odd green vegetable. "Is your friend's name really Aria?"
"So far as I know." Her noncommittal tone told me enough. She didn't much care, so long as she had the upper hand in social interactions. "Why, what does it matter?"
╭─Lawrence.A@TERRA.tracert in ~ via > v25.4.5
╰─λ sudo usermod -l Rose.Thorn Lawrence.A
Illegal name: Rose
╭─Lawrence.A@TERRA.tracert in ~ via > v25.4.5
╰─λ sudo usermod -l Aria.Thorn Lawrence.A
Illegal name: Aria"Well," Jazz was speechless for a few breaths, "that's certainly reckless of you, but an excellent demonstration."
"The same is true of any username in the big eleven." I was confident, not because I'd tested, but because the system protected those names. They were invisible and impossible. "I can show you. If you like."
She jumped at me. "No. Absolutely not. What if it works and my Lillian has the wrong name?"
"It wouldn't do anything. That account doesn't have write access to userspace." I thought for a while. If I had access to Elia Gideon or Sini or Lynae, I could do it and have done with this. Or Rose. "You ought to know that, Jazz."
"Knowing and internalising are very different things." She gestured to me. "Like you know without doubt that you are what you are, but you also have an internal sense of who you are. You don't – and shouldn't – internalise your external." After a moment, she gave a weak smile. "I hope that made sense and didn't upset you."
Of course, she was right. I hadn't thought of it that way. I returned the smile with a bit more confidence.
"So now we dive into the fun," I said. "We have two routes of attack. Grant me write access, or unlock one of the accounts with it. And we use Phyllo to sniff out what's possible."
"Can you install a command auto-complete within Phyllo's weird shell?" Already moving on. That was one thing I admired and couldn't do.
"It already exists," I nodded. "Lets us see her available commands. But the size of it is pretty terrifying. Well, except for q, j, x, y, and z. Those are a ghost land."
"Waste land? Ghost town?" She shook her head. "Your figures of speech make no kind of sense."
"Thank you kindly."
Our evening went on like that. A few degrees of work. A few degrees of talking. A few cycle ticks of me being ordered to eat. It worked. I managed to discover one thing, in the whole course of things. Specifically, I discovered that I knew very little about how the root user database worked.
When the time hit seventy-five degrees, Jazz made us stop, dragging me away.
"If I let you, your desperation would make you skip out on much needed sleep." Her words were soft. "As it stands, we have our night care routine to attend, and then we have to make sure you're well managed."
"And you need me on a routine so that everything works as expected."
"Yes beside that, you've forgotten to take your meds, so I'm calling it tonight." She walked us to the washroom, where we took a moment to take our various pills. "For the next two nights, you and I are going to take a break. Let that brain percolate on the questions so that answers find their way into the brew."
"Very well," I would defer, even if she expected me not to.
"Would you be interested, Lillian," she sounded nervous, "in increasing the physical intimacy of our relationship?"
My jaw hung slack.
"Not much. Right now, we kiss. We hold hands. We cuddle." She was blushing. Since when did she have the capacity to be embarrassed. "You can say no. But would you be interested in sharing a bit more skin?"
"Like, less clothes in bed?" I was suddenly blushing. "If you're comfortable with it, I am."
"I meant generally."
"Can we revisit this after I recalibrate my understanding of us?"
She laughed. "In what way do you need to recalibrate?"
"You really do like me, despite all of this." I indicated my whole body. The body I hated because it wasn't what it was meant for. "If we were still in digital space, then I could understand liking the idea of me. But you saw this and said 'in spite of the shape, I like her'. It's difficult to understand."
"Well, I'd certainly prefer if you were happier with your body," she grinned, blushing, "but not at the expense of the unique person you are. Or rather, I'd not like a man confident in his body. I'd like a woman confident in hers. But you're my person. I want you, regardless."
"And what about a neuter confident in theirs?"
"Of course. You would be the one to check all the flags." She said it not as judgement but recognition. "I'm only for women. Women of any kind. Cross-coded, non-cross-coded, corrupt, non-corrupt. Doesn't matter. Just women."
"And being a woman is about the code, not the sex?"
"Exactly," she said, tapping me on the nose. "Or rather, mostly. There are some cross-codes who are different. Prefer that their mind stop being wrong."
"But then they wouldn't be them," I said softly. "People are too confusing, Jazz."
"And that's why you have me. Utterly baffling, but well-versed in people. Now. Get cleaned up. The next two cycles will determine if we go on our trip."
Something Different
The next morning greeted me not with the sound of a shower or the smell of that flower, but with a warm arm wrapped around me. I didn't wait to get up. I wanted to do something for Jazz. She was taking care of me every cycle tick. The least I could do is make it easy.
Once I finished the entirely too hot shower, I dressed myself in a nicely tailored outfit and moved to the kitchen. Stimulant brew, prepared just as I'd always done it, and a simple but complete breakfast. Jazz was beginning to bump around as I brought the tray into the room.
"You're awake? But it's only —" Her words stopped dead when she saw the time. Normally, she'd be awake already. Probably about to leave the washroom after filling the domicile with steam. "Then I suppose it's good you've brought me breakfast in bed."
We ate in silence as she woke herself up the rest of the way.
"Lillian, I'm going to be as kind as possible as I say this." She met my eyes, smiling around a grimace. "Please don't cook breakfast for us anymore. I'm afraid it will spoil me, and then I'll rely on it."
"You don't have to lie," I said, taking a sip of the stimulant brew. "The eggs were burnt, and the toast was underdone."
"True," she said, "but it was food I didn't have to work for." She ate the last bit of crisp eggs. "And that's dangerous."
She stood and began a very slow trudge to the washroom. Without bothering to close the door behind her, clothes began coming off. She didn't move to close the door, instead, opening it as wide as possible. Apparently, Jazz wanted me to watch. So I did.
Her body was imperfect in so many ways, but I had to admit I liked the view. Once the last bit of sleep clothing was removed, she met my gaze, smiled, then closed the door.
"I hope you enjoyed the show, Miss Thorn," she called from the other side, "I'll be here for as long as you'll have me." The shower started. "Finish getting ready. Clean the dishes. I'll be out shortly."
She wouldn't be mad that I did things out of order, so I managed the dishes first. Every dish I used to cook – more than strictly necessary, because I was bad at it – and the several I used to serve us. As I finished that, the shower stopped. I moved back to the bedroom and finished putting on my outfit.
The steam smelled of home when she opened the door.
"Good girl," she said, towel wrapped tightly around herself. "I'll be ready shortly. You can stay and watch or not. Not my concern."
"Right." I stepped out of the room. "Not that I wouldn't love it, but that I'm already a bit overstimulated."
"Totally fair," she called after me. "Be out shortly. Progress is progress, Lillian."
She came out wearing not a business suit but a dress of some sort. It showed far more of her than any suit normally would. But she looked fantastic in it.
Catching my eyes, she smirked. "Partial payment for Kin's help. They want me to distract our colleagues as they shorten your probation. And they want to enjoy the view while they do it."
"How very utilitarian." I was certain she would do wonders to achieve both goals. "So long as it doesn't bother you."
"Part of the job is playing politic. I hate it, but it gets things moving." She checked a clock. "Shall we to Lyra's, love?"
"Let's."
Something New
"Hey so, I was thinking," a dreadful proposition coming from Even Even, but there we were, "what kind of schedule do you put yourself on that keeps your injective compunction in check?"
"Executive dysfunction, and simple things for the most part," I smiled at their earnestness. "Get out of bed when the alarm calls. If I struggle with that, make sure the alarm is far enough away that I have to get out of bed. Get the same food and beverage every morning at the same time. External triggers."
"So if I want to help my lady friend, then I need to look at the little things." They wrote it down like some manner of prophecy from the sectors. "I noticed you always show up with a steaming cup and a bag. Is that the 'same food and beverage'?"
I had to fight back the giggle. "Yes, Even. I go to Lyra Moon's shop every cycle at fifteen degrees past light. She and I have an arrangement. My cousin introduced me to the shop." Cover myself in case Even spotted me there, regardless of my appearance. "And every evening, home before zero degrees if I can manage."
"Because you can't find your way in the dark." I nodded. "Alright. I think that's enough for now. Tell me about what happened with the inspection?"
"Miss Cloud pulled me into her office. Told me not to embarrass her. Then we spoke with the inspector —"
"Kin Loyal. What an odd name." Even was more excited than I was accustomed to.
"Right. Turns out they know me." The truth couldn't hurt too much. Easier than spinning more lies. "They were an education facilitator back home. I was their favourite problem child."
"You? A problem?" Even laughed. "Not likely. A little weird? Sure. But a problem? No." They lingered in the door to my office space. "Hey, so, I'm going to ask you a question. You don't have to answer. But I've been curious."
That couldn't be good. "Well, if it's to do with the way I look currently," I was wearing makeup, subtle as it might be, "that would be my girlfriend insisting it'd make me look nicer. She's not wrong."
"No, I mean, yes. But not quite." They stepped in, closed the door, and locked it. The office had one extra chair. "How do you know if you might be corrupt?"
Oh. That was different. "Short answer? Do you think differently than the people around? That one's hard to measure. For me, it was constantly asking 'why' even when there might not be an answer." I took a deep breath. I gave Even a moment, but they didn't respond. "That wasn't the first sign, but it was certainly something. It was the big red flag that got me labelled. But asking 'why' doesn't get you corrected."
"Right, I get that." They looked in pain. "I mean, other than that."
I'd been working, obviously, only half listening, but that pulled my attention. My hands stopped. I pushed myself away from the desk and moved to their side.
"What's this about, Even? Really, seriously." Were they okay? Probably not. "Have you been feeling isolated? Left out? Expected?" I couldn't word it better. "What kind of corrupt are you worried you might be?"
"They asked me in the inspection if I knew what a cross-code was. Everyone knows the word. There was a whole edu-campaign about that." Their voice was cracking. "But why did they ask me?"
"If it makes you feel any better, Even," I tipped their face toward me, "they asked me the same question." Entirely false, But Even didn't need to know that. "They ask a lot of questions in those inspections. So you shouldn't worry too much about it."
"But what if I feel like there was a reason to ask?"
"Now, that's a separate fork, Even." I moved back to my seat. "Tell me what you're actually thinking. No judgement here. I mean, I'm wearing makeup."
"And it looks good on you," they said softly. "But I think I might be one. A cross-code I mean. I can't explain it. But when you told me to call you A or whatever. I was suddenly stricken with a question. The question of 'what if I didn't like my name'. And that led to somewhat of a spiral. It's why I've been coming to you more."
Oh. That was something. "Alright, then. Let me ask you one simple question. If I were to call you 'sir' or 'ma'am', how would that feel?"
"I don't know."
"Well, ma'am, I think you know the answer if you let yourself consider it." They flinched. "I think you got my point, sir." They flinched again. "You see, Even. It's fairly simple. Now. Talk to me. What's really on your mind?"
"I think I'm something new. Not male or female or neuter. I can't explain it." They didn't need to. They weren't the first. "It just all feels wrong."
"Can I tell you something in complete confidence, Even?" They met my eyes, tears flowing, then nodded. "The root user database is full of holes. It's missing information. It has wrong information. Hells, even my progenitor field in the database is blank."
"Really?"
"Absolutely," I assured. "But that doesn't mean I had no progenitor. It means the database is wrong. Perhaps your entry would tell us something new about you. Maybe you're a new kind of cross-code, Even. And if so, that's great! But the important thing is that you are yourself."
"What's so great about being corrupt?"
"It puts you in good company. Your lady friend. Me. My cousin. My cousin's girlfriend. Even the supervisor, Miss Cloud." I listed them off, not worried over the security of it. "Trust, Even. It's okay. And honestly, I'm kind of jealous of you. If you're something entirely new, then that means you're special."
"Yeah?"
"Entirely so." I breathed a sigh of relief. "You're good people Even. If you settle on 'something else', then I'll even throw you a party." I stood and moved into their space, holding out my arms. "I don't hug, so you know this is important. I will deny it if you tell anyone."
They stood and pulled me in tight, their chin resting on top of my head. "Thanks."
As Even left, I moved back to my workstation and typed rapidly. Should I be doing this while at work? No. But I needed to see it for myself.
╭─phyllo@Ω in ~ via > 0.0.b
╰─ω user probe -li E_En.E_En
username: E_En.E_En
userid: 2105963282
╭─phyllo@Ω in ~ via > 0.0.b
╰─ω userdbctl --limit 1 --first 2105963282 --vital | ~/usetable.sh -f ~/users
| user | age | sex | code | pro | h | w | p | flags |
| --------- | -------- | --- | ---- | ---------- | --- | -- | -- | -------- |
| E_En.E_En | 40C729C0 | N | O | West.Night | 188 | 74 | 89 | FCA15CB9 |Huh. That really was something.