"More so than the gender thing," Amethyst concurs. "The powers the Spirit gave me — they aren't reductionist. They don't work better when you spend more time understanding them and trying to make everything perfect. They work better when they make the whole story of what is happening a better story. And that was really hard for me to properly accept, at first. But the fact of the matter is, that trying to work on making the rollout to your world perfect may not actually make it any better, no matter how much time we spend on it. Let me tell you two stories, and you tell me which one you think is better:"

A young person wanders through a magical portal, feeling unsure and afraid. Within, they find a strange world with strange rules. But they also meet a beautiful magical princess, who tells her that she, too, can be beautiful and powerful, and that together they can save the world. They discuss how they might do that, but ultimately the princess tells her that magic works on faith, and what she really needs to save the world is to believe. They step back through the magical portal hand in hand, and the world is saved.

A young person wanders through a magical portal, feeling unsure and afraid. Within, they find a strange world with strange rules. But they also meet a beautiful magical princess, who tells her that she, too, can be beautiful and powerful, and that together they can save the world. They discuss how they might do that, going into exquisite detail about the problems with the world, and how they might be fixed. Their initial plan doesn't end up changing much (or at all), but they do come to be sure that it will work. Ultimately, they are fully prepared, and step through the magical portal together, to save the world exactly in accordance with their plan.

Sargeþi bites her lip.

"I ... I mean, those are just different genres. I like to read the second kind, usually, because the details make things interesting. I do like the first kind too, but mostly when I'm feeling sad or overwhelmed, and just want some fluff to cheer myself up."

Amethyst blinks.

"Huh. You know, I think I forgot for a moment that you're me. I mean, I like those kinds of stories too, but there are hardly enough to be considered a genre, because most people don't. Your world's narrative tradition must be fascinating. Alright — we can do things the long way. Maybe you can start by giving me an overview of how your world is organized, with a specific eye to what organizations and individuals are going to have important effects on making first contact," she suggests.

"Ah, sure. It's been forever since my civics lessons, though. Let me look up a chart ..."

She pulls up an unholy cross between a map and a venn diagram on her phone.

"So this is a world map, showing the most important territorial organizations. The little ones marked with stars are the individual cities, the ones with dashed lines are joint judicial jurisdictions, the ones with dotted lines are standards bodies. The solid lines are joint service providers ..."

The geopolitical situation she explains is, to put it lightly, a mess. Every single city is an exception to something, and the only truly universal organizations are the Global Minimum Standards Body and the Archivists. Between the two of them, Larger Continent Emergency Services and Smaller Continent Emergency Services cover nearly every polity — which also means that in practice, they often end up doing things that are not strictly related to emergency management. Some cities are members of both. Some cities buy services from them, but do not meet the technical requirements for membership. Some cities are part of the Larger Continent Joint Response Area, and pay service fees, but are excluded from involvement in leadership because of something to do with insurance.

One city (Unexpected Volcano City) is technically counted as five different cities for administrative purposes, but their territories are co-extensive and which one you're in depends on which gate you entered the city through. Another area (No Tariff Technically-Not-A-City) is a large urban center featuring dense shared infrastructure and independent local government — but the government refuses to agree that it is a city, because that would oblige it to meet certain minimum requirements to remain part of the Smaller Continent Transport Standards Area.

"So ... is it really Emergency Services I should be talking to, or the city governments? Or the Foreign Diplomatic Relations Clearinghouse, for the states that are members?" Amethyst questions, once Sargeþi has spent long enough explaining that they have both ordered new drinks.

"I'm ... not actually sure that you have standing to bring matters to the clearinghouse," Sargeþi mentions. "Bar, could we borrow a copy of ... let's see ... The Official Bylaws and Procedures of the Foreign Diplomatic Relations Clearinghouse, 41050 edition?"

"Oh, I'm going to need to refer to it later, I'm sure. We can purchase it — Bar, put it on my tab, please."

Sure thing. Do you want more apple cider?

"Yes, please."

She flips through the provided book in search of the index.

"So ... it looks like I could if there were not an existing recognized global structure that would be a more appropriate venue for my communication, and I'm a resident in good standing of a state that is a signatory to the Third Larger Continent Convention on Governmental Procedure. Or, I can file an appeal with the Global Court of Justice, if I meet the criteria in annex B," Amethyst announces after a moment.

Sargeþi taps their lip.

"I think technically you're allowed to sign onto conventions at any time, as long as you don't have any additional exceptions to negotiate," Sargeþi points out. "You could get recognized as an official City, for diplomacy purposes ..."

After a long slog through international relations, jurisprudence, demography, and contingency planning, Amethyst dramatically closes the cover of her latest reference text.

"I think we're done!" she declares.

"Are you sure? Let me go back over the action items ..."

"I never have to pee when I'm in the middle of something, and right now I have to pee like a small woman who drank twenty-three large glasses of various sugary drinks," she declares.

Sargeþi glances at her line of glasses.

"You are a small woman who drank twenty-three large glasses of sugary drinks," she points out.

"It's a close simile," Amethyst replies. "Anyway, be right back."

When she's vanished through one of the doors in the far wall — presumably to visit a bathroom — Sargeþi turns to Bar and asks a question that she really should have thought of earlier.

Er. The business cards you gave me earlier — do you actually vouch for those people, or ...? she signs.

I, Bar explains, am a bar. I sell drinks. I do not, as a matter of course, vet interdimensional aid organizations.

Right, okay. I mean — she seems pretty sincere, and you did confirm that she's a me. So ... it's probably fine, but I wanted to check, Sargeþi explains.

I can sell you some books that speak positively or negatively about Amethyst, Bar offers.

Yes, please. That would be a great help, Sargeþi agrees.

A stack of books materializes on the bar, with titles ranging from The Holy Book of Her Lady in Amethyst, She Who Steps Between the Stars all the way to A Critical Analysis of the Handling of the Urmbezi Affair.

Sargeþi settles in to read.

Amethyst returns just as Sargeþi has closed the last page, and is sitting with her eyes focused on the bottles behind the bar, considering what she has read.

"You took a suspiciously long time in the bathroom," Sargeþi observes.

Amethyst waves a hand.

"Time is an illusion, and so are pants," she observes. "So ... anything else you want to talk about?"