Space travel is complicated. It's a rainy fall day on Sigma 957 in 2326, but on Earth right now it's midwinter 12 years ago, and I'm at Pi's Solstice party. 500 light years away a much younger me is fuming over her punch. Paal and I are having an argument. If only I could talk to that younger me, what wisdom I could impart.
Pi always did a huge Solstice party. It was kind of her thing, as were parties in general. My role was quite different than it was even a few months ago. Since I was able to help her golden boy's rise to prominence I was allowed to move from the ranks of volunteer server into Pi's irregular reserve. I was a guest now, being offered hors d'oeuvres from trays held by people that helped to train me in the servicing arts. I felt sometimes ashamed, and especially now.
We were arguing, although no one could really tell. Technically the argument was over long ago. We had said our piece, agreed to a cease fire and gotten on with our cordial relations. And yet the argument continued to smolder. That was the way we argued. There was the long fuse at the start, where one or the other -- or both of us in turns -- would hold a grudge about something the other person said. Then there would be the outburst, which would usually trigger other related outbursts, culminating in a long period of silence where both of us felt we were right but didn't have any more arguments to make. Then we would make up, apologize, say we were both wrong just for the fact that we were angry, and we'd try to accommodate and get on with things.
That's where we always fell down. Once we reached the stage where we agreed the argument was over it was never over. We both held onto secret resentments, and we'd look for the chance to apply them, discretely and technically, to something that the other person had just said. That's what we were doing today -- that other today back in December of '13 -- waiting for the other person to say something sloppy so we could make our cleverly rehearsed cutting remark. It was a lovely party that neither of us enjoyed.
It was almost always about the same thing one way or another for us. The original argument was about auditing, which is a very common point of disagreement for couples. It's like money in the olden days, an issue that killed many a relationship. Paal and I could not agree on primacy for some of the basic ideas that drove our research. I felt that his ties to Pi made him see things in a less than objective manner, and yet I tried to keep my arguments based in reason and facts. It was Paal who always said the same thing: "You're so insecure." I hated that. Anything I said could be easily dismissed because of my messed up emotional system, assuming that's what he meant. What do I say? Yes, that's true, my brain is objectively miswired and yet you should accept my arguments despite the fact that they come from an e-zero, PSS-negative freak? I wish.
So we argued, even when we had decided that the argument was over, with ironic side comments about how the other had been so wrong on this or that point, even when we really should have been backing each other up. It's not the way for collaborators to operate. Today's me would have been different. But there you have it -- you have to live with the choices you make, and if you travel in time, you have to live through the choices you make.
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