[SESSION id=0.10]: Signal Redirect
Accept Ping
Jazz lived in a domicile strikingly close to my own. Only four grid-squares away from the seventh corridor domiciles. How didn't I know that? I suppose there were a lot of things I didn't know if I was only just seeing that she was my childhood best friend. How had I missed that?
"I really am sorry," I said as we entered her front door. "You know, if I had known, I probably would have been awful to you. Much worse. So it's probably for the best I didn't."
"You saw what you needed to survive, Lillian," she smiled, looking back at me to be sure I'd see it. "And that's how you've always been. Same as me, I suppose. I guess I didn't want to admit my awkward best friend and first love were also the person capable of the art Flower_Princess did."
"That makes two of us," I whispered, looking around the room. It was modest, understated. Certainly not what I would expect from a sysadmin at TERRA Central.
White walls adorned with scattered frames. Each with a bit of code in them rather than a picture. There was a couch big enough for either of us to lay on, or both if we wanted that. A high counter separated the first room from a dining area and kitchen. There was a hallway that led out of the space. It was dark, but filled with a familiar emerald glow just barely bright enough to notice.
My eyes kept going back to the framed code snippets. I recognised a few.
A small crack to make water taste vaguely like honey. A larger crack to make every building a few fractions of a grid-square shorter, a bit more claustrophobic. A special one, identifying particular buildings and making them just a bit wider, sacrificing length and making them almost impossible to occupy.
"You've saved all my work," I said, admiring the determination, "immortalising the ephemera of learning in framed portraiture. I don't deserve this."
"No," she said with a groan. "You deserve far more, Lillian. Your vision. Your insight. You've fundamentally changed what it means to crack The Source, and you did it single-handed. Why do you think they're hunting you? It's not because of the skylight or the snow or even the bricks." She ran her hand along the edge of one frame. "It's because you've done so much, so well, that they know they'll spend countless supercycles just uncovering it all.
"A report fell on my desk about four supercycles ago." She flopped herself onto the couch, then patted the spot beside herself. I complied, sitting without a fuss. "'On the impact of imperceptible code updates'. It was from one of the cleaners. An analyst from their side had stumbled into something terrible when comparing The Source as it was to The Source as they expected. A million tiny changes no one had noticed. And that was just what they could identify." Her hand rested on my thigh. "Without even reading the rest of the report, I knew it was you. Specifically Flower_Princess. And my heart leapt.
"Earlier in this supercycle, around cycle one hundred forty, I got another report. Fixes being applied for cracks before anyone could analyse them." Something in Jazz's eyes sparkled. "Each time, it was assumed a specific account was handling it, but there was no proof. I recognised the style. LA Thorn." A long sigh escaped her. "I'm sure you know this, but that script of yours was easily derived from our work."
"And yet," I smirked, "you weren't using it. You were trying to get caught. By the only person who would notice you."
"Funny how it took so long for either part of you to get there." She squeezed my leg. "But here we are. Now you know enough of the story that you can't be mad at me. I'm cooking supper for you. I need you healthy. And then we're going to bed. This is going to be our new norm. Wake up together, I take you to work, I pick you up from work, come home together. garden is already set up in the office beside my decidedly better workstation."
"What makes you think you had the right to do this?" Not trying to accuse, just to understand. She would know that.
"Lillian. Not to be rude, but if I don't take care of you, no one will." She stood and moved toward the kitchen. "Plus, if I keep you close, you won't get any stupid ideas to impress me, then get jealous of yourself for the fact it worked." Ouch. But she was right. "If you don't want to stay with me, that's fine. But I want you to stay. So please?"
She was begging. Her tone made that clear. Even if there were another choice, we both knew what I wanted. "What are we having for supper, Jazz?"
Mean Regression
Jazz offered me a separate bed, if I wanted. One in another room. She also offered to sleep on the floor and give me her bed. For some reason she was so desperate to make me comfortable that she forgot to consider I might like to be uncomfortable with her rather than comfortable without.
After going back and forth for several minutes, I took her hand and pulled us both into the same bed, for which she fussed because neither of us was dressed for sleep. Another thirty minutes of winding down routine – hers – then her applying the same ritual to me – which I reluctantly admitted was really nice – and we at last found ourselves under the same blanket, our bodies only a short distance apart.
My breath was shallow, desperate not to disturb her. This was the new norm? A beautiful woman. And me. Together. I wasn't about to complain, but it didn't fit with the internal calculus I understood of the world.
Did Lyra love her cross-coded husband? Sure. Were there stories of cross-codes finding happiness? Absolutely. But there had to be a catch here. I was meant for a long lonely life of loss, right?
"Go to sleep, Lillian," Jazz's voice was soft. "Or at least try to relax." Her arm wrapped around me. I hadn't realised how small she was compared to me until that moment. "I'm going nowhere. You're going nowhere. We're going somewhere together."
Her arm pulled me close. At first, it simply increased the tension in my whole body. Then after a few seconds, everything shifted. I was safe. I was present. I was with JN Flowers and Jazz. And it was okay.
Before I knew it, I was waking up.
Jazz's arm was no longer around me. The spot where she'd been was cold. The sound of shower spray reached me from another room. Something smelled of a sweet bitter flower whose name was on the tip of my tongue. The air was a bit sticky from the steam coming from the shower.
Moving to sit up, I let the blankets fall from my body. Sleep had been so sudden, so instantaneous, so rapid, that I wasn't disoriented. That was a common problem no matter where I slept.
"Rivia," I whispered, beginning my cyclic blasphemy, "so help me, if you send my SIGTERM now, I will find a way to haunt this system and destroy it from within."
My words had just barely made their way out of my mouth as Jazz opened the door across the room, dressed in only a towel. My heart leapt as she smiled at me. "Oh good! I was worried you would still be sleeping. Go get in the shower. I'll lay out your clothes."
I stood and walked toward the light and the roar of the shower spray. "My least offensive clothes?" I teased just before she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. "In any case, thank you."
The water was intense. Hotter than it had any right to be. Every inch of me screamed at the sensation, but I didn't change it. Whether it was some act of solidarity or penance or just rivalry, I wasn't about to attempt escape. Two scrubbers hung at the front of the shower. One red, one green. The red was still covered in bubbly suds, so I took the green and began the work of cleaning.
Once I was finished, I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped into the bedroom where I found an outfit I'd forgotten existed. It wasn't much, but it did a lot to feminise my figure. It wasn't what I would consider work clothes, but it was office appropriate, so I wasn't about to fight it.
The whole domicile was already beginning to smell like food. Eggs, bacon, citrus fruit. And stimulant brew.
After dressing I moved to the kitchen and dining area. Jazz was just setting plates on the table. How did she continuously find a way to be exactly on time?
"Eat up. We're stopping by Lyra's for your stim-brew and pastry here shortly." She smiled as she sat. There were already two cups of the stuff at the table, so I raised a brow in question. "You're not the only one who needs routine, Lillian. She's missed you."
Oh. That made sense.
"Sit. Eat. I'm certain she'll appreciate a visit."
By the time we finished eating, it was five degrees past light, and I started getting antsy. It would take at least eleven degrees to get to Lyra's shop from my domicile. Adding four grid-squares to that distance would be catastrophic for my arrangement. Jazz noticed. She grinned at my discomfort.
"You really have no clue where anything is, do you?" She laughed, standing from the table and gathering the things she'd need for work. "Trust me. I wouldn't have let you sleep in if I thought we'd miss any of your normal schedule points."
"But I woke up early." My insistence was met with a nearly doubled-over laugh from her. "What?"
"Lillian, you woke up early for a person who has a fixed schedule and doesn't care a thing about her existence." She pointed to three different clocks visible from the table. "I got up with exactly the amount of time needed to accommodate both your schedule and my routine. Trust. You slept in."
She grabbed my wrist, pulling me from the table, and kissed me before dragging us out the door and down the stairs to the street.
"Look around you, Lillian. Do you recognise anything?" Toward the skylight were buildings. Away from the skylight were more buildings transverse were more buildings. No matter which direction, just ...
"Oh. Lyra's shop is that way. Three grid-squares." I knew it. There was a public transit stop with a lopsided bench. I passed it every cycle. No one sat in it. "And my domicile is four grid-squares the other direction."
So that's why we didn't need to worry over time. We were more than halfway there already.
"You see, Thorn," she laughed, dragging me toward the shop, "you're not entirely helpless if you just take a moment and think."
When Jazz barged into Lyra's shop, her sister dropped everything and dragged the employee who was apparently her daughter Nova to greet us. People in line were groaning at the delay.
"L, honey. Jazz has been keeping us updated. Are you doing okay? How is work? Are you settling in okay after everything that happened? Nova has been asking about you the whole time. You've been missing for two full rest cycles, and we got worried." Jazz held up a hand to make Lyra stop. "Sorry."
"Uh. L," Nova smiled at me. "I'm glad you're doing okay. If you need any help learning about, well, things. Let me know."
Both women returned to their positions behind the counter, and Jazz led me to our table.
"What was that about, with Nova?" I kept glancing over to the young girl. She was uncharacteristically focused on me. "And Lyra for that matter."
"They both missed you." Jazz grimaced at my cluelessness. "And Nova's excited that she gets the chance to teach a 'younger' sister how to be a woman. If you'll have her help."
"Not to be weird, but why would I need help with that?"
Jazz took both my hands and pulled me to look directly in her eyes. "My niece loves you, L. Like a sibling who never comes home except the occasional rest cycle. And when she heard you were cross-coded, that kind of sealed the deal."
"But, that doesn't —"
"Welcome to being a part of our family," she grinned. "Accept our love or get out." After a few seconds, her grin widened into a full smile. "Well, don't get out. But at least get over yourself."
"Really, L," Nova appeared from nowhere, my regular items in hand, "get over yourself. We're family. We're going to help you."
"Alright, love," Jazz stood, taking the bag and cup. "Let's get you to work."
Executive corruption
The workcycle continued mostly as normal from that point forward. I spent the entire time running diagnostics on the machine that replaced my previous workstation, removing the various monitoring processes with impunity. If they wanted to track my every move, they could check the logs. The same logs I was unceremoniously deleting as I went along.
Was I meant to delete my existence while on probation? No. Would that stop an old habit of a paranoid corrupt node? Absolutely not. If they really wanted to track me, they could put Miss Cloud over my shoulder and watch every task I managed.
Of course, even that would only get so far. The previous workcycle, I'd spent the entire first half setting up dummy processes to cover up what I was doing, turned off console logging for those processes, and instead set up false fronts.
"Uh. Pal," Even Even's voice startled me out of the flow I had going. "Not to be a bother, but I was wondering about some things. I won't get in the way. Can you work and talk?"
"I can, but is this something for which you would be better served with undivided attention?" They raised a single brow at my question. "What I mean is, wouldn't it be better for me to actually listen?"
"But what about —"
"Let's go to the refreshment area," I offered, "and I can give you the attention you deserve."
I didn't want to listen to whatever they were worried over, but I needed to look like a team player. I needed to seem like a normal person for a few cycles. Prove that whatever happened was a good thing. That way I could get off probation and go on whatever assignment Jazz was being relocated for.
"You sure you're not still messed up after what happened?" Even looked genuinely concerned. "It's no big deal if we —"
I stood and moved toward them. "Too late. Already set a process running that will take at least a few degrees. Let's go."
We walked together from my office door – I would never get accustomed to having an office with a door, I worried – drawing eyes and whispers from all around us.
"So, I was wondering," Even didn't usually stammer when they spoke, but this was incredibly close to it, "if you knew anything about corrupt people." My tiny gasp likely gave me away, but Even continued. "My girlfriend might be corrupt, but I really like her. I think she's excellent."
"Tell me about her. And what makes you think that."
"You know how most people just do things?" I didn't fully follow their meaning, but I nodded anyway. "She has to tell herself to do things like five times before she can."
Executive dysfunction. It was considered a milder form of corruption. I dealt with it to an extent myself. Not the kind of corrupt that led to correction.
"Are you and she living together yet, or still in separate domiciles?" It would help with understanding what to say next.
"She moved into mine a few cycles back. That's when I noticed something was a bit off." They sighed and leaned against the wall. "I don't think she even knows that she's got a problem."
"Can I share something with you?" This one was entirely harmless. "If she's dealing with executive dysfunction, the best thing you can do for her is get her on a schedule." I blushed around the words. Is that what Jazz was doing? "If she's on a schedule, then the executive function has been offloaded to a different thread, and it just happens."
"How do you know about that?" They stared at me like some manner of bad crack. "Wait. Do you have perspective malfunctors?"
"Executive dysfunction," I corrected with a small chuckle. "And yes. Pretty severely. I can't even find my way home if the schedule is messed up."
"I had no idea!" They pulled me into an embrace. "Sorry. I know you don't usually hug, but I just —"
"No. It's fine."
"You smell nice. Is that a flower?" They pushed me away, not fear but just the end of the moment. "It's really good. I take it your girlfriend is forcing you to a new schedule yourself?"
"In a manner of speaking." I felt just the tip of my lips curl. "Don't worry too much about your girlfriend, Even. If you can get her onto something very structured, it'll help a lot."
"Thanks."
We returned to work, and I made a mental note to really appreciate Jazz when we saw each other later in the cycle.
Evening and Even
Jazz was in the same spot, leaning in the shadows of the next building, when I got out of work. Why did she always skulk when she was near my work building? I had to assume it was something to do with visibility and propriety, but who could say. That woman was almost as confusing as any other person in [city[0]].
"We have supper tonight. At a local restaurant," Jazz said by way of greeting before pulling me into a tight and passionate kiss. "One of my former coworkers has been trying to get her partner to take her out. Said partner has been waffling, trying to get a joint excursion together." She shrugged. "I offered to manage that detail. She should be telling them about it shortly. Meanwhile, we need to get you looking presentable."
"Presentable?" I couldn't read her face, as she was already pulling me along the path toward her domicile. "What exactly does that mean?"
"Do you want the short version, the mean version, the interesting and subtle version, or the truth?" She tugged harder, somehow walking faster than me despite having shorter legs. "I'll give you whatever you like as long as you stop wasting time."
"The truth would be nice."
"Even if it hurts your feelings about half as much as the mean version?" She wasn't messing around. "Because it will."
"Especially if it does that."
"Lillian, sweetie," she said softly, "you're a woman in all except form. I've a habit of bragging about you to my acquaintances. She's expecting an ugly woman. Not a handsome man."
"Ouch."
She stopped finally and met my gaze. "Warned you. Are you okay with this supper? Despite things?"
"What if I know the partner?" It was my only hesitation. "In your words, [world] is a very small place."
"You do." She tugged on my arm and set to walking.
Two hours of desperate work later, I looked almost presentable as 'an ugly woman'. I'd expected that realisation to make me feel worse. But instead, seeing the potential was encouraging. I almost couldn't tear myself from the mirror.
Somehow, Jazz had transformed me into something akin to what I was meant for.
"When her partner asks if they know you, you tell them you have a distant cousin who works at TERRA Transverse." Jazz was applying the final touches to her own personal masterpiece as I stared wistfully at my own reflection. "You will refer to said distant cousin as L or A. For tonight, you are Lillian Thorn, former sysadmin and stay-at-home-girlfriend."
It was a lot of words I barely pieced together, but one thing I knew for sure. "Her partner is Even Even." Not a question. A fact. "Do you really think they won't recognise this?"
The reflection was heartening, sure, but I was still me. Dress, heels, makeup, carefully styled hair, corrective spectacles. I was still me despite all of that.
"She says that her partner is somewhat of a ditz and misses the obvious," Jazz laughed. "You two are cut from the same tree. Shocking you aren't proper friends."
The worst part about going along with Jazz's plan wasn't that it was doomed to SEGFAULT at every turn. It wasn't that when the inevitable SIGINT was thrown and ended the evening, there was no turning back from it. Even the potential for falling into a SIGTRAP when Even Even figured things out wasn't quite the worst part.
Genuinely, above all, the worst part is that none of that happened.
"Even Even, I presume," Jazz had gotten us a table, and we'd waited for her acquaintance to arrive with her partner. When the couple approached, her immediate greeting was for my truly oblivious coworker. "It's such a pleasure to meet you. Aria has told me so much about you. How long have you been together?"
They smiled, pleased at being recognised. "Oh, I've known her for three supercycles, but we started officially dating something like five or six rest cycles ago." Their eyes left Jazz and turned to me. Several seconds passed as they just stared. "And this is your girlfriend?"
Jazz pulled me to standing so she could present me for devouring, and my heart started pounding. "Yes! She and I have been friends since we were children. Almost twenty-five supercycles. Minus a few supercycles where she was so focused on work that she stopped talking to me. May I present Lillian Thorn." She indicated the woman. "Lillian, this is Aria Post." A casual wave to Even. "And her partner Even Even."
"Greetings," I strained my voice against its rest position. That would be a problem later. "Even Even. That's a peculiar name. Fairly uncommon, wouldn't you say?"
"People always tell me it should've been Odd Odd," they blushed as they and their girlfriend took a seat. "But here we are. It's what my mother gave me."
I struggled a moment with the skirt of the dress and took my seat across from Even. "I mean no offence by it. It's just that I have a cousin who works with someone with a similar name. Eren Elen or something like that. My cousin goes by A. Works in TERRA Transverse."
"Small [world]!" Even shouted, drawing stares. "Here I am, seated across from a cousin of the legend. I didn't even know A had any cousins."
"Distantly," the strain on my voice wasn't getting easier. Jazz pushed a glass of something warm my way. The heat of it soothed my already distressed throat. "So you're the one my cousin talks about."
"I suppose I must be." They took a sip of their own drink. "Lillian Thorn. That's a nonstandard name. Your whole family has a proclivity for being a bit different then."
"They do," Jazz interrupted, saving me from myself. "Tell me, Even. What is your role in TERRA Transverse?" Why was she asking that? She knew the answer.
"Well, I have the fortune of being the enforcer partner to our top tracer." They smiled. Something like fondness taking over their features. I blushed. "Mine's the easy job. I identify the corrective path and send it to the sysadmins. In the especially fun cases, I get to administer the SIGTERM myself. Aria tells me you work at Central, so I'm sure you've seen some of my reports."
"Perhaps," Jazz smiled.
Supper went on like that for a long time. Jazz and Aria catching up about some systems administration topics. Aria excitedly sharing that Even was working on a special project for her. Even praising my work behind my back and to my face. Eventually, I had to stop talking due to the strain on my throat, but Jazz played it off that it was well past my normal bed time.
Jazz picked up the bill, and then we made our way back to her domicile, where I nearly collapsed on the couch.
"Rest your voice, love," Jazz said as she moved about the kitchen. "When you have a moment, go shower, then change into the sleep clothes I laid out for you."
After a few minutes of silence, I complied. The shower was hot. The steam felt good as I soaked it in. There was a disorienting moment as I washed my face, and many new colours slowly streamed into the drain of the shower. It took several seconds to realise I'd just washed off the makeup Jazz had put so much work into.
When I returned to the kitchen wearing a set of satin sleep clothes, two steaming mugs of something were on the table, and I could hear Jazz typing away in the other room. I'd still not seen the setup of her home office, so I took both mugs in hand and followed the sound.
true to her word, Jazz had set up garden at a desk next to the one she was using. It was connected in almost the exact way I'd set it up in my own domicile. Her hands were moving deftly across the keys at her workstation, terminals popping in and out of existence so rapidly I could barely keep up.
"One moment, love," she said. As she kept typing, more and more terminals were vanishing. When at last her screen showed only a single window, she turned to face me. "Oh! You look relaxed. Keep resting your voice. Drink the one in your left hand. The other is for me."
I nodded, handing her the indicated mug before taking a seat next to her.
"Answer only by head movements and hand signals, understood?" I nodded at her words again. "How did tonight feel?" I nodded, smiling. "Good. Aria and I were thinking about making that a regular thing once we get back from [city[3]]. And I want you to be comfortable with it. Is that okay?" I nodded, slower, but still certain. "Great. Now. Tonight, you and I are staying up late. I've sent you notes about some things to try. I've read and re-read the help messages for every option on userdbctl, and I've tested a few things to make sure your precious garden won't catch fire."
I looked over, and sure enough there were a hundred messages from her in the emerald green messenger app we used. Then I looked to her workstation. In beautiful terminal green was the local hostname I'd seen her use before. rosegarden.
Turning to garden, I sent a quick message.
LT:
> I really am an idiot. That I didn't see rosegarden pointed you directly to my history with JN."You really are, Lillian," Jazz laughed. "But that's okay. Let's get to work, and then we can get to bed and cuddle." She paused. "You do like cuddling, right?"
I nodded, excitedly.
"Good girl."