"Um, I don't mean to pry, but... Why exactly is it important to you that I not invite other customers in, though?"

She considers.

"Well, because the totalitarian oppressive government that controls all of the media and most of the world and routinely permanently handicaps the abilities and senses every magic user that isn't specifically chosen to be one of their favorite pets might get in. And I'd rather they didn't."

"... That sounds like quite the problem. Do you maybe need some help with that?"

"I would certainly appreciate it."

"Well, I can start by extending you the use of my employee discount." She grins.

Inavet grins. "Thank you. That won't get you in trouble, will it...?"

"Not unless I make a serious habit of it, and I have not so far. 'Saving a world' counts as more important to me than maybe getting chewed out, anyway."

"Mine, too, but I can't exactly go barreling into people's lives and go, 'Drop everything help me save my world'."

"... Were you asking? Because I would totally be interested."

".... In that case. Yes! I am! Would you like to drop everything to help me save my world?"

"Well, I can't drop everything but I can definitely send a me with you."

"'A me'?"

"Yep, you heard that right! I have spares. Or, um, am spares?"

"... Multiple bodies all with the same consciousness?" clarifies Inavet.

"Yes, but no? Like, that's generally correct but probably not accurate to how it works in practice? We're... More like really really similar people who all get along and share memories, maybe."

"... Huh. Okay. I'm mostly concerned about, uh. The one helping me dying and being lost forever."

"That's... Not really an issue for us. We know Greater Us will survive, so any individual one of us dying is only a little bit sad."

The clerk pulls out a hexagonal crystal pendant.

"Would you like to see?"

Blink.

"Sure."

The clerk carefully, carefully unclasps the pendant and sets it on the counter.

"Just touch it and think of the kind of memory you want to experience. I will warn you though, it can be kind of surprising the first few times - you might not want to start with 'how an Eva dies.' "

Eyebrow raise, solemn nod.

She reaches out and touches the pendant. An Eva's - time at the beach?

She's lying on a beach of fine black sand, a towel spread out beneath her, her fingers twined in her long, silvery hair. A blocky moon sets over the waves, dyeing the ocean silver. The salt wind on her skin carries the chill of the ocean, but she doesn't mind: this world was never one for warmth even on the best of days, and she's long grown used to the faint numbness.

Closing her eyes, she listens to the surf.

"... Oh," says Inavet, blinking. She removes her hand from the pendant. "That's - yes, that does make the prospect of losing Eva's less - uh, complete." Pause. Small smile. "And it's really cool."

Eva grins!

"It is! This instance of me here, that you are talking to, is a bit special, because she's - er, I'm - well, you get the idea, personal pronouns are kind of an issue for me sometimes - anyway, this instance of me is the archivist whose job is to keep the collective history of Greater Me."

Nod. This sounds very reasonable to her.

"Do all of the others regularly get updates?"

"Generally they come back and sync with me every year or so - we play rock-paper-scissors and have a discussion to make sure we're both still me in the senses that matter, and then we merge and re-fork. If a me diverges a lot - has a really significant, life-changing experience - then we do a poll and also ask them if they would like to be re-merged, and if they don't, or Greater Me doesn't want them, then they get a living allowance from OTC and transport to wherever they would prefer."