The Ode clade

The Ode clade is one of the earliest clades on the System, and the subject of much of the canon to date.

Structure

The members of the Ode clade — at least those who are explicitly members of it — take their names from the lines of a poem, "Ode to the End of Death", written by Michelle's friend and one of the fellow Lost, AwDae. Michelle Hadje forked the first ten lines in one go on systime 0+103.

The Ode comprises 100 lines divided into ten stanzas, each loosely based around a central theme. Because of these themes and because of the mindset that she was in when she forked each of the first ten, each stanza within the clade has tended to pick up a particular hyperfixation.

The first stanza: watchers

The first stanza was keenly focused on observing the System. This occasionally manifested itself as spying, but just as often played itself out in more innocent ways such as I Have Sight But Cannot See who became a sensorium toolmaker (protocanon) and I Cannot Stop Myself From Speaking who became a private investigator.

The second stanza: historians

The second stanza focused on history. From Qoheleth's shaping of the System's memories from the early days on to Hold My Name Beneath Your Tongue And Know's fixation on tricksters both past and present.

The third stanza: spiritualists

The third stanza focused on religion and spirituality, returning to the Judaism of Michelle's grandparents and her "vaguely Jewish" upbringing.

The fourth stanza: fighters

The fourth stanza started out keeping tabs on art and artists throughout the System, but eventually wandered off to do a leftism.

The fifth stanza: entertainers

The fifth stanza leapt into theatre wholeheartedly, with Time Is A Finger Pointing At Itself starting the troupe Au Lieu Du Rêve with her up-tree instances.

The sixth stanza: caregivers

The sixth stanza picked up most of Michelle's feelings on motherhood and the role of caregiver that she felt as a teacher. This extended beyond just a parental role: I Remember The Rattle Of Dry Grass became a systech, reasoning that that made her the System's mother, in a way.

The seventh stanza: emotives

The seventh stanza leaned hard into emotions and, eventually, therapy within the System.

The eighth stanza: conductors

The eighth stanza has played perhaps the largest role in the grand scheme of things, leaning hard into politics and guiding the System along its path. The Only Time I Know My True Name Is When I Dream in particular helped keep the System on the path of general anarchy and ensured its continuity and stability by any means necessary.

The ninth stanza: artists

The ninth stanza focused on the arts in various ways, from novelists to game designers, sim artists to construct artists, instance artists to sensorium artists.

The tenth stanza: "the part that suffers"

The tenth stanza was left with much of the mental health and instance problems that Michelle suffered leading up to forking. This is not to say that they were at all unhappy, but neither were they quite as whole as the rest of the clade.

Dandelions

Due to the experiences that Michelle/Sasha had while lost, the Odists have an abiding fixation on dandelions. Michelle/Sasha herself created a sim which was simply a field of well-tended grass dotted liberally with dandelions, and many of the clade include dandelions in their own sims.

Overflowing

All of the Odists undergo what they have named "overflowing," which is something akin to a panic attack or dramatic mood shift which will affect them for anything from a few hours every few days to a few weeks every few years. Each expresses it differently, and usually it will involve an inversion of their own personal fixation. If it is notable, it will be listed on their own page.

Clade listing

• Michelle Hadje (quit)
  • I am at a loss for images in this end of days:
    • I have sight but cannot see.
      • I build castles out of words;
      • I cannot stop myself from speaking.
    • I still have will and goals to attain,
      • I still have wants and needs.
      • And if I dream, is that not so?
        • If I dream, am I no longer myself? (lost in the Century Attack)
    • If I dream, am I still buried beneath words?
    • And I still dream even while awake.
  • Life breeds life, but death must now be chosen Qoheleth (assassinated)
    • for memory ends at the teeth of death.
      • The living know that they will die,
      • but the dead know nothing.
        • Hold my name beneath your tongue and know:
        • when you die, thus dies the name.
        • To deny the end is to deny all beginnings,
        • and to deny beginnings is to become immortal,
        • and to become immortal is to repeat the past,
        • which cannot itself, in the end, be denied.
  • Oh, but to whom do I speak these words?
    • To whom do I plead my case?
    • From whence do I call out?
      • What right have I?
    • No ranks of angels will answer to dreamers,
    • No unknowable spaces echo my words.
      • Before whom do I kneel, contrite?
      • Behind whom do I await my judgment?
      • Beside whom do I face death?
      • And why wait I for an answer?
  • Among those who create are those who forge:
    • Moving ceaselessly from creation to creation.
    • And those who remain are those who hone,
      • Perfecting singular arts to a cruel point.
    • To forge is to end, and to own beginnings.
    • To hone is to trade ends for perpetual perfection.
    • In this end of days, I must begin anew.
      • In this end of days, I seek an end.
      • In this end of days, I reach for new beginnings
    • that I may find the middle path.
  • Time is a finger pointing at itself
    • that it might give the world orders.
    • The world is an audience before a stage
    • where it watches the slow hours progress.
    • And we are the motes in the stage-lights,
    • Beholden to the heat of the lamps.
    • If I walk backward, time moves forward.
    • If I walk forward, time rushes on.
    • If I stand still, the world moves around me,
    • and the only constant is change.
  • Memory is a mirror of hammered silver:
    • a weapon against the waking world.
    • Dreams are the plate-glass atop memory:
      • a clarifying agent that reflects the sun.
    • The waking world fogs the view,
      • and time makes prey of remembering.
      • I remember sands beneath my feet.
      • I remember the rattle of dry grass.
      • I remember the names of all things,
        • and forget them only when I wake.
  • If I am to bathe in dreams,
    • then I must be willing to submerge myself.
    • If I am to submerge myself in memory,
      • then I must be true to myself.
    • If I am to always be true to myself,
      • then I must in all ways be earnest.
    • I must keep no veil between me and my words.
    • I must set no stones between me and my actions.
    • I must show no hesitation when speaking my name,
      • for that is my only possession.
  • The only time I know my true name is when I dream. / Sasha
    • The only time I dream is when need an answer.
    • Why ask questions, here at the end of all things?
    • Why ask questions when the answers will not help?
    • To know one’s true name is to know god.
    • To know god is to answer unasked questions.
    • Do I know god after the end waking? E.W. (no longer part of the clade)
    • Do I know god when I do not remember myself?
    • Do I know god when I dream?
    • May then my name die with me.
  • That which lives is forever praiseworthy,
    • for they, knowing not, provide life in death.
    • Dear the wheat and rye under the stars:
      • serene; sustained and sustaining.
      • Dear, also, the tree that was felled
        • which offers heat and warmth in fire.
    • What praise we give we give by consuming,
      • what gifts we give we give in death,
    • what lives we lead we lead in memory,
    • and the end of memory lies beneath the roots.
  • May one day death itself not die? (quit)
    • Should we rejoice in the end of endings?
    • What is the correct thing to hope for?
    • I do not know, I do not know. (quit)
    • To pray for the end of endings
    • is to pray for the end of memory.
    • Should we forget the lives we lead?
    • Should we forget the names of the dead?
    • Should we forget the wheat, the rye, the tree? (lost in the Century Attack)
    • Perhaps this, too, is meaningless.