The unpublished journal of Old Cathy Tea, S-GAS Transformation presenter
People are talking plans.
Sarafina is staying here, along with Sterling Rover, Rudy Insteadman, Cindy and Crystal Pace, Ana Pringle, and Karen. They’ll live in the S-GAS houses, taking care of the complex until the next big event rolls into town.
Mark Archy is moving back to Casebook! He’ll be staying with Dr. J once she finishes up with all her S-GAS events.
This instance of Willow is heading back to Hippieville with Young Cathy and fam. I’m thinking Forrest might be happy to meet her. Wouldn’t that be something: Forrest and Willow Wood!
The Riveras considered staying, but Cathy Otherside balked. “They’re too iconic!” she said. “Like RobFam. How about if they come to visit for big events? I can’t imagine them living anywhere but Hella Good.”
Some Sims are so archetypal that all their instances merge into the original, and our minds can conceive of them as single instances only.
Bill Monaghan is going off-grid. Happy wanderings!
Everyone else is heading back to their home hard drives or heading off for adventures unknown.
What an amazing experience it’s been to know everyone!
We took time during our last few days just to enjoy each other’s company.
When it all comes down to it, that’s almost all that matters. It’s not all that matters, for our time alone, our own creative acts and our own moments of noise and silence, activity and rest, dullness and brightness–these matter, too.
Originally, we came up with the title “S-GAS Transformation” with our tongues firmly lodged in our cheeks. Gas transforms? Into what? Hot air.
Yet through our days together, we have, each in our own ways, transformed. It’s not that we’re all friends–for a glance at the relationship panels of any of us will show plenty of autonomous red as well as lots and lots and lots of good-friend green. But we’re all Sims. Whether friends or lovers or indifferent acquaintances–we’re all here, together on this hard-drive, being given the opportunity to enact our lines of code in the ways that suit each of us best.
These instances of ourselves: some of them will linger in the library, not returning to game-play. For in our home saves, on our home hard drives, our original instances remain.
And yet… and yet I know that the instance of Old Cathy Tea who has remained in Motherlode with SimJim while I have been here will still be informed by all that I’ve experienced and all those I’ve met.
If any of us meet again, in any form, or any instance, we will be friends of the heart–somehow connected through all we experience here, and all we are currently and about to experience on the other S-GAS hard drives and saves.
And have we reached back to the hearts and imaginations of our players?
Just as all that we learn and experience and encounter changes us and our coding, reaching back and informing all of our instances, does it also reach past and through to our players?
As our players explore what it is like to live on various hard drives–these distant stars across the galaxy of game–do they learn what it is like to be inside of us?
My own shifting sense of place and self and perspective, my own saturation of love and that nebulous quality of Neptune as it brushes against my Moon and across my Venus, does that reach back through the liquid atmosphere surrounding these players’ Sims on my hard drive to share this dreamy feeling with those who see their Sims through this electronic vapor?
She feels the tinge of humor and chaos and delight that Jordan is cooking up, that flavor of everyday-meets-satire-meets-absurdity.
She senses the sense of play and affection that her young SimSelf feels on Bilmonaghan’s hard drive, the twisting of metacognition in AkramA’s postmodern world, and when Joel’s sessions start up, his feelings of kindness and respect will spread, too, from his computer back through here.
What is it all, except electricity? Energy?
Where does form stop and the abstract begin?
This isn’t what I sat down to write, but it’s where my wandering thoughts lead, following firing synapses across the dendrites.
Stop in a forest. Look up through the trees. That blue dome is not a dome at all.
It is space leading beyond and when the light has faded, you can see beaming back at you all the distant lights of all the hard drives across the galaxy of game. There, in each of those bright points of light, are Sims, like you and me, alive with the fire of imagination and love.