. . . This is not like any road Lornell has ever seen.  - That is not like any vehicle Lornell has ever seen, either.

They'll take off running after it, they suppose, for lack of a better method of picking a direction.

The truck eventually pulls over and the driver sticks her head out to see what the fuck. She yells something in a language Lornell has never heard of.

Lornell cannot currently copy the whole language at once, but they can probably snatch enough to say, "Please, moment!" and then aim for what was yelled?

Apparently she yelled "are you CHASING me?"

"Sorry, no!"  They hop the railing onto the sidewalk to make that more clear??  "I just very confuse."

"No shit!" she yells back and then she drives off.

Lornell gives her a minute of lead time before continuing on.  They're not nearly as fast as the weird unpulled vehicle even if they were to regularly copy not-having-sprinted from the person inside (which seems . . . unwanted . . . ), so at least they don't have to intentionally hold back while running in order to avoid making things awkward.

After about one and a half more miles the road and surrounding cliffy wilderness, the terrain flattens out, and there are farms and hiking trailheads and suchlike fanning out from the highway. After another mile a town proper comes into view, lots of houses and apartments and shops. The highway veers off to circle around the town and to reach the town Lornell will need to take an exit.

That is also not like any town they've ever seen!!  The exit they shall take.

The townsspeople... basically ignore him! He gets some looks but mostly from people checking him out. There's a big park over there, with some kids doing chalk drawings and running around and swinging; there's a grocery store there, two stories under a stack of apartments, advertising a sale on various colors of cauliflower.

The looks are kind of weird and the people here are more varied along certain axes and much, much less varied along others than Lornell is used to, but it's convenient to be left to acquire the language before needing to speak to anyone.  Hopefully no one minds that the way they'd apparently maybe mind something more personal?  Lornell can't find the public officials here and so just pulls from a higher number of people than they normally would bother with for something like this, just in case.  Partway through they get antsy and start doing acrobatic tricks off the trees and park equipment.

That attracts an audience, especially of small children who want him to do this one or that one again again again.

Adorable!!!  Lornell knows so very many acrobatic tricks (some of which might be locally record-breaking) and is delighted to do them as many times as the tiny children demand.

People are taking video now. The crowd increases. The tiny children are DELIGHTED.

Lornell ends their next set with a flourish and pauses, gesturing at the cameras.  "What are those?"

...somebody turns theirs around so he can see the front.

. . . ???? ?? ???

They bob around, tilting their head and looking at the screen from different angles.

This seems to be amusing. "It's a phone, silly!" calls a child.

"Does any person mind if I - " (where's the word for - ) "download?  Their knowledge about phones.  Also more of this language; I apologize, I have been pirating it.  I hope this unoffenses."

"What?" says the person who turned their phone around for him.

"Backtrack: something very mysterious has been happening at me.  Where is this, what country?"

"Loza!" says a child.

"May I download from some person a map of where is Loza."

"Not if you don't have a phone?" says the phone-displaying adult, sounding bewildered. (Other people are starting to wander off now.)

"A phone cannot download a way I mean; where is your word for - to a person?"

Blank staring. "...what's your native language?" offers phone-adult.

"Cretari."

When this turns up no search results, they go back to mostly just being confused. "Where do they speak Cretari?"

"Creta."

"...where's that?"

". . . . What if you not-download from me my map."

"I don't know what you're even talking about." The adult pockets his phone and collects his corresponding kid to head away from Lornell.

People here are very strange.

Are there still other kids around who want to see more tricks?  Lorn will resume providing if so.

He can quickly re-attract an audience if he goes back to doing tricks!

- Actually they're going to take a break to think for a minute.

There's some chance that Lornell has committed a pretty great wrong against several people here, if everyone mostly wants to keep themselves to themselves or something.  Lorn has never heard of such a place but that doesn't mean there isn't one, and that's - probably a reasonable way to be, somehow, even if it seems obviously terrible on its face.  And even if it is unreasonable it's still not Lorn's right to disrupt it.  So it seems like they shouldn't take any more of the language or anything until someone specifically assents.

(They start fidgeting in a way that's somewhat indistinguishable from intentional showing off, though it's composed less of fancy flips and more of ridiculous numbers of consecutive one-armed handstand pushups.)

Also this is the first time they've ever interacted with adults who weren't guaranteed to be nice, and that's something they should really come up with a game plan for.  Hard to know where to start, though.

Some of the kids start trying to stand on their hands too. None of them can.

- None of them?  Not even with Lorn giving them a few (admittedly sub-fluent) pointers?

Nope! They fall down and giggle. One of them gets frustrated and runs away to his mom.

That's not . . . inherently . . . child abuse . . .

"How would you all like to be when older?"

"I want to be an ASTRONAUT," yells one.

"I'm going to be a musician!" says another.

"I want to have SEVEN kids and make us all a CAKE, EVERY DAY," says another.

"What is an astronaut?"

"An ASTRONAUT is a SPACEMAN*!"

* Not a gendered term, but this is the right precision and register.

(Having to either ask what words mean (multiple times) or just keep on not knowing them is awful, wow.)

"To be a spaceman, how you need to be like?  What kind of person?"

"You have to practice not throwing up! And you have to be okay with doing lots of exercise so your bones don't fall apart! And you have to have science to do in space."

"It's a job with aloneness?"

"Noooo," giggles the kid.

"Job with aloneness!" repeats the would-be musician. "Job with ALONENESS! ALONENESS. ALONENESS."

"May I be helped by any you for being better towards words?"

"I know lots of words! Like... cytesine!" says the one who wants to bake cake for seven children.

"May I take some but yet you have them?"

"I am USING my cytesine for my hair and my nails," she informs him.

"Words, not cytesine."

"I also know words like BIOME and ZIRCONIUM and SUNKENMIDDLEOFACAKE*!"

* Literally something like "valley" but an archaic form now fossilized to mean only this property of baked goods.

". . . Maybe example.  Us all go go go go at there - " they point to a tree waaay over on the other side of the park, "Person who, for a moment, is an only person there, is best?"

The kids puzzle over this for a minute.

"You want to race them?" suggests an adult who's been reading on a bench nearby.

"Maybe!"

"Maybe?"

"I don't know what are words!  May I or n't know what are words!"

"I'm not going to tutor you in Lozan, why are you looking for Lozan tutoring in a park?"

"I'M GOING TO WIN," hollers the astro-child and off he runs for the tree.

Lornell starts back-handspringing after astrokid.

. . . That's still not slow enough to lose automatically?  Even with the head start??  They incorporate greater numbers of backflips until their pace matches.

The kid is clearly running as fast as he can! He tags the tree and then sprints back to the other kids.

Lorn jogs behind on the way back and isn't out of breath by the time the two of them return.

"You want not," they illustratively breathe heavily for a moment, "this?  You may take of me!  What is a word of that."

Astro-child giggles. "You talk funny!"

"Make SENSE," says the musician kid, less amused.

"May may may may what is a word of that?"

"May may may may may," repeats the musician. "May may may may may may may may..."

Cake kid is getting bored and wandering away.

Does bench adult seem to have any sort of opinion about this.

Bench adult is ignoring him.

Excellent.  Sigh.

In Cretari: "Does anyone here speak Cretari?"  In Bloudelake: "Does anyone here speak Bloudelake."  In Fareregnite: "Why did the shopkeeper not come back to work after the seasonend?  Because winter autumn spring summer."  (It's a pun.)  In the conlang built for that one play Lorn went to go see two years ago, did it have a name Lorn thinks it probably didn't: "In time of old, when heroes cultivated their own bravery and less was the price of sobriety . . ."

Musician kid apparently likes the Fareregnite word for summer and says it 24 times.

Lornell keeps trying languages.  "'You may value neither your life nor your face, but I, one - may I keep it?'  'The hunted, weary souls cling dear to their hope like a thrashing trout.'  'Forcing you to use both halves of your brain at the same time, a capella.'  'My friend Nara went to Sairus once, and came back with the most interesting hairdo made out of precisely-copied cowlicks; it was really cool.' 'You can't just slow down in the middle of the road, y' . . . know . . . .'"

. . . Lorn notices that they don't actually expect this tactic to work.

In Lozan again: "Sorry and may - ah, please? - where is a persons of words, of where 'something very mysterious has been happening at me', of where person offenses in mysterious country?"

"Mysterious country mysterious country," chants musician kid. Cake kid is building a cairn out of rocks now. Astro-kid says "Do you hafta go on an emergency vacation?"

"What is an emergency vacation?"

"It's if you get overwhelmed about your whole life and not just like a room," says astro-kid, "and you go to a hotel for a few days and decompress."

"And . . . are there a person of something very mysterious has been happening at me?"

"...maybe? I dunno."

Lorn does a walkover into an elbow stand and then drops their head and starts running their hands through their hair.  Sighs.

"Did you use to be in the circus?"

"What word is a circus," they ask into the grass.

"It's where people do tricks like that, and animals do too, and it's a show."

"I think no."

"Maybe you were in the circus, and then you forgot, and now you need an emergency vacation about it," says astro-kid.

"There is not forgot-space for a circus in me."

Musician kid is in stitches over this sentence.

"Where'd you learn to do all that stuff then?" asks astro-kid.

"This one I where-is-your-word-for from a friend Binla."

"Is Binla in the circus?"

Shrug.  (Their whole body bobs instead of just the shoulders, from this position.)

"Summer summer summer summer," murmurs musician kid, "summer summer..."

Eventually Lorn somersaults into a crossed-legs sitting position.  "Where is an emergency vacation."

"My auntie went to the Four Hills Resort," says astro-kid.

"Where is the Four Hills Resort?"

"It's up in the hills!"

Lornell checks for hills with ¿buildings? in them visible from where they're sitting.

There are some hills thataway, with a few buildings between the trees.

They point at one of the buildings.  "Four Hills Resort?"

"...that's just somebody's house, I think."

"Please where is the Four Hills Resort."  They stand up.

"I don't know how to go there," scoffs astro-kid.

". . . Thank you, sorry, goodbye.  You may all live nice lifes."

"Lifes," says musician kid, "lifes lifes. Summer summer lifes lifes."

Cute kids.  Maybe once this all gets sorted out Lorn'll come see them again.

In the meantime they run for the hills.  If anyone they pass has the vibes of being particularly interruptable or official or willing to explain things, they'll stop; otherwise they'll just head up there and start looking around.

Phenomena passed include:

- somebody giving out free samples of six flavors of beverage
- a dog-walker with 8 dogs in tow
- a streetsweeping truck, preceded by a team of dogs that are wielding pooper-scooper devices and picking up trash in the road ahead of it
- a festival of some kind in a large town square, with henna painting, hair braiding, fudge and fruit and beignets, dancing to live music, a bouncy castle, and children chalking the whole area of pavement
- somebody putting up signs advertising her ability to train corvids to do various things

. . . real quick check on whether the job-having dogs are people?

The dogs are not people.

Aww.  - Ooh a festival!  That's not really the vibe Lorn was searching for but it's not like they're in a hurry except insofar as fixing this will help everything else.  They marvel for a bit at the bouncy castle and then join in on the dancing, assuming it's the sort where random people seem encouraged to participate.

Yup, it's a freeforall in the dancing zone. Kids are bopping around spinning each other by the elbows, that couple over there is swaying back and forth vaguely while making out, those people have formed a ring of joined hands and are traipsing around in a circle about a blushing friend of theirs.

It's so weird how Lorn is the only acrobatic person here but the attention will maybe hopefully eventually be helpful?  They find an emptyish spot and do tricks in time with the music.

This eventually causes a bunch of people to be clapping rhythmically while supervising him, as though to egg him on.

It's really hard to not copy a state of rest off a bunch of people when they're standing right there, and Lorn almost does it once by accident.  Eventually, though, they run out of breath, and finish with a curtsy to - wow, to go sit down for a minute, actually.  And is there any obviously-public water around?

Yup, paper cups and water dispensers that way.

Paper cups are, objectively, definitely not the most interesting and weird thing here but they're still pretty weird.  Why are they paper?  Why is the paper that they are that texture?  Lornell has so many questions and has no inroads on getting any of them answered, so probably -

Actually, climbing up into a random direction of hills looking for a particular building that could be anywhere is a spectacularly dumb idea.  Is anyone still paying attention to them?  Failing that are new people (ugh) continuing to seem visibly attracted to them.

People mostly lost interest when they took a break to drink water, that being a reasonable activity but not really a spectator-friendly one. There is a lady in her thirties over there checking him out.

Lorn has no idea what fashion markers people use to signal their actual age here.  They put on their friendliest smile and approach her.  "Hello!  Something very mysterious has been happening at me.  Please where is a person of an unmysterious?"

She loses interest immediately. "Dunno what you're talking about. Are you having a stroke? Need an ambulance?"

"Maybe??"

...yeah okay she's just going to call him an ambulance and take him by both arms and usher him to sit down over there on a bench while they wait for it.

Lornell doesn't resist.

"What is an ambulance?"

"A car to take you to the hospital for your stroke or whatever happened to you. You were fine a minute ago, did you hit your head dancing and I didn't see -?"

"I remain body-fine, but that something very mysterious is happening at me."  They illustratively roll off the bench into a one-handed cartweel, replicate one of their more impressive tricks from before, and sit back down.

"You shouldn't do that if you might have hit your head or had a stroke. I'm pretty sure."

"I remain body-fine.  No person has says I may I-did-not-find-your-word-for their words; I have as many as I-did-not-find-your-word-for'd until I had realize maybe I may not.  Sorry-sorry if I may not."

"...I don't know what you're supposed to do when you're talking word salad but I'm pretty sure it isn't cartwheels." The ambulance arrives quickly, though it has to slow down to let the festival crowd part. His helper stands on the bench and waves them over. "I don't know what happened to him, he was dancing like a regular acrobat and then went to get water and then came up to me and started talking nonsense."

"Sir?" says one of the paramedics. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Lornell.
I also had talking nonsense until dancing."

"Oh dear. Lornell - do you have any other names?"

"Lorn."

"Do you know what day it is, Lornell?"

"No, in this language."

"Do you know what day it is in another language?"

"Ristak."

"Is that the language or the language's word for this date?"

Lorn holds up two fingers.

"I don't know what that means. I can put you down as not knowing what the date is. Do you know where you are?"

(The other paramedic brings over portable diagnostic equipment to figure out Lornell's vitals situation.)

"Two options, the two one: a word for this date?  Loza."

What are they going to try to do to Lorn with the diagnostic equipment.

They have a blood pressure cuff and a pulse oximeter and a light to shine into his eyes and an ear thermometer.

. . . . Okay, Lornell will bemusedly cooperate with this.  Eyes and ears are fine, pulse is very slightly elevated, blood pressure's pretty much normal.

They usher him into the ambulance and close it up and drive him hospitalward.

Lornell does not like this cart but okay, sure, fine.

The ride is very short. They try him on other tests of cognitive function - can he repeat digits back to them forward and backward?

Yep, easily.

Well, they're going to check him into the hospital anyway. Since he doesn't know what day it is, what is the last day he remembers? Does he need an interpreter for whatever other language he speaks, what was it again?

"Cretari.  There is not forgot-space in me!  - Or, at times I sleep?  Until four days past, when I sleep, there is not forgot-space in me."

"You haven't slept in four days?"

"Correct."

Well in that case they're going to give him a theanine and put him in a dark soundproofed room and firmly instruct him to SLEEP.

"No??  No thank you?"

"It is VERY important that you sleep," says an orderly very seriously. "It's important to sleep every day. If you're having problems it's very likely this is related to not sleeping. If there is something in this room that would stop you from sleeping we can probably change it, but you really, really have to sleep."

". . . No.  I - obtained sleep?  Not far past.  No one here wants obtained-from, fine okay, I sleep here.  Later.  I so so so so so sad if I sleep now, and leave instead."

"I STRONGLY advise you to get some sleep as soon as you possibly can, but if this isn't a sleepable place for you, we're not going to insist that you do it here. But I don't think you can get better until you sleep. If you try to operate a nyoom without having slept in four days that's against the law. Do you understand?"

"What is a nyoom."

"A vehicle that has a motor."

"What is a motor?"

"...you REALLY need sleep. Where are you going to sleep?"

"Please, a Cretari interpreter?"

"We don't have one of those. I don't know where we'd even get one online, no one here has heard of it and we tried six spellings and didn't get anywhere."

". . . Please a drawing mechanism?"

...yeah sure. Pad of paper, pencil.

They very quickly sketch out and present to their minder:

"Today, before: here, Telerta."  They tap-tap-tap-tap the circled bit.  "Creta."  A gesture at the shaded area.  "And now?  Where."

"You're in Loza at the Sarind Memorial Hospital." He squints at the map. Pulls up one of his own. "Where's your island on here, do you know?"

 - Lorn adds two squiggly horizontal lines across the top and bottom of the page, running across the highest bit of land and matching up with the bottom edge of the shaded area respectively.

"Ice."  Tap in the upper area.  "Ice."  Tap at the lower.  "Surprise world-opposite continents?  Maybe.  I had not ever seen."

"...That's not a real place."

"Yes.  Something very mysterious has been happening at me."

"I'm pretty sure that has something to do with you not having slept for four days. Please go to sleep."

"I am not feeling must-sleep and will be so sad and want that I leave, and am less old than can have drugs for sleep.  - In Creta I am less old than this, but if the needing is less old here I must to remain Cretari.  Is there a small time that will not make me so sad, that I attempt sleep and you believe me a little more, when I do not sleep and remain words-like-this?  Until tomorrow where I sleep more and remain-remain words-like-this and you believe me entire that my mysterious happening is very."

"If you're not going to sleep today there's nothing else we can do for you, there doesn't seem to be anything else wrong with you."

"I attempt sleep now, exit a sleep room when sad of this or when sleep finishes, you believe me a little more?"

"...if you don't sleep then it will continue to be the case that you have not slept in four days, which is very unwise and can cause all kinds of mental effects."

"I attempt so sincere.  I have a mandate to want to move always and be sad when not, but attempt sleep so so sincere.  And if I correct and attempt but can't sleep, maybe you believe me a little more that sleep is not my very mysterious happening?"

"There is no way," says the orderly with very forced patience, "that not sleeping for four days is okay for you. That is not a way people work. If you can't fall asleep with theanine, we can get you something stronger."

"I am less old than it is legal."  (They look to be in their early-mid twenties.)

"In Loza it is legal to take a drug that a pharmacist prescribes you."

"I have not ever leave Creta to know well about citizens acting in other countries' laws."

Sigh. "I have never heard of Creta. In Loza, if a pharmacist prescribes you something, it is legal to take it."

". . . In Creta, it is a way people work that sleep is never needed.  We have good public officials and obtain - or download, pirate, take, copy; I did not find your word - sleep.  Many times I had not my own sleep in four days, five days, weeks.  Most long with no my-own sleep: two months, fine!  No mysterious happening!  Four days?  Not long, very recent.  In Creta."

"My professional recommendation is that you go obtain some sleep in the room we set aside for you. I can't make you, but I don't think we have another way to help you here."

"Where can help me?  A child had say the Four Hills Resort."

"...Four Hills Resort is a vacation facility. You can sleep there if you can afford it but they don't have any medicine to help you sleep better there."

"I have no - uh, uh, affordances?  I don't know that word, I missed it."

"Yes, I can tell that you don't speak fluent Lozan. Please go to sleep."

"You had not say you believe me more if this doesn't work even though sincere attempt."

"Right. If you don't in fact sleep, you will still be in a state of not having slept for four days. Sleep deprivation is very bad for your ability to keep track of what's true and what isn't, and your ability to make yourself understood. If you do in fact sleep then if you're still confused we can try to help you from there."

". . . . . If there is no person anywhere here who wants or allows that I obtain more good Lozan from them, I will attempt a prescription."

"If you don't have any money you can't pay for language tutoring."

"Is money affordances."

"...yes."

"I have no money.  In Creta obtaining is not money and drugs is money?"

"Lornell," says the orderly, glancing at his chart for the name, "as far as I know, Creta does not exist and you made it up by staying awake for four days. Please. Go to sleep."

"But is drugs money, that I have no of."

"No, you do not have to pay us for the hospital stay or the drugs."

"Okay.  Drugs and sleep."

The orderly takes off at a run, which isn't very impressive by Lornell's standards but does suggest that he's very concerned Lornell will change his mind before he comes back with the pills.

He's back a couple minutes later with a cup of water to accompany the sleep drugs.

Running is obviously just the natural state of human locomotion but Lorn is still there when he gets back anyways, frowning and doing handstand pushup-jumps.  They flip upright upon the orderly's entrance and would like assurance and possibly documentation that a pharmacist was involved, and for him to answer several factual questions about the content of their previous conversation.  But if the drugs seem legal and it doesn't look like the orderly was replaced with someone else then yes, Lornell will down the pills.

He can see the pharmacist's thumprint on the bottle label. The orderly is the same guy.

Dark quiet room now, yes?

Yes.  Ugh.

Lornell makes a heroic effort to lie down and be still, and is pretty fidgety while they wait for it to take effect but ultimately manages to stay in bed.  (It is the most comfortable bed they've ever tried, which is interesting but doesn't actually help very much.)

They sleep as much as someone who is legitimately not tired at all can be made to on this dose of this drug.

Theanine doesn't help that much but it'll help keep him calm.

In that case they last less than half an hour.  "That did not help at all," they declare upon relocating the orderly, "because I need no sleep yet, but maybe you don't even a little more believe me so what now."

"I can get you something stronger," says the orderly, raising an eyebrow. "Or you can come back when you're ready to sleep. Or you can try longer."

"I will be so so sad if I try longer and I have no knowing of other places here."

"I'm not imprisoning you. You can leave if you want. But this is a hospital and what we have for people who haven't slept in four days are various drugs to help them sleep and quiet dark rooms."

"Where else, that persons - people - will try to help me even a little, with no money?  In Creta, anywhere and any person!  Here, only you which I know.  So more drugs or where is a place or a person like that, please."

"I'll go see what the pharmacist wants to try you on next," sighs the orderly. He goes and gets a stronger sleeping pill.

"Thank you."  Lornell takes it and sleeps as much as it lets them.

This one is pretty heavy-duty. He Will Sleep.

Okay good!  And they feel exactly the same, which is just what they expected but probably they still would have expected that even if they were wrong.  Is their orderly still findable after however long that was?

Nope, there's been a shift change, but he's greeted by a different orderly! "Hi!" she says. "Are you feeling better?"

Chipperly: "No!  Just the same because I was right and sleep was not my mysterious happening please believe me."

"You were out for a solid few hours there, it you're still not feeling right probably you weren't just tired! What else is bothering you?"

"I feel fine except that yesterday I was in the city of my whole life, normal normal, until a very big moving mirror appeared, and passed over me and me through it and: suddenly here!  In a woods.  And sorry but every person here yet is so confusing and unhelping."

"What's confusing about us?"

"I couldn't find your word for the important thing and no people here seem to use it but there must to be an euphemism at least even if you hate it, and no person tells me whether you hate it for them or for me so I am stucked about this fluency of Lozan and I don't know if it was awful-terrible that I had take this much.  So sorry if I am awful-terrible but please tell at me a way or other."

"...usually people learn Lozan, or other languages, in schools or from tutors, sometimes from teaching themselves online or from books or television..."

"Okay, and what is the name of when not that, when just take it from a person - and they still have it also - all at once or slower but still much much faster than learning it out?  I knew no Lozan yesterday, now: this much!  After a medium time in a park.  Maybe awful-terrible of me, but the word is . . .?"

"...I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"May I look at you with the sense auxiliary to my there-is-no-word-for."

"...I don't know what that means either. You may look at me, you're looking at me right now."

"Not with my eyes, with - " they gesture noncommunicatively.  "If you have or don't have this thing, I may tell by not-eyes looking; I had refrain here before out of politeness."

"Does this involve touching me at all?"

"No."

"Then if it would make you feel more comfortable you can 'look'* at me."

* This scare quote is rendered in Lozan with a prefix perhaps best translated as "ish" or, in certain dialects, :bug:, where scare quotes are unavailable.

"Okay."

So what's the deal with this person??  - Is she even a person or does she just look and move and talk like one  -

She speaks Lozan with native fluency and knows a few words of ten other languages. She has various medical skills, practiced during busy times when she was taking over stuff that is not technically her job from the real nurses. She is in tolerable shape but has an iffy shoulder and a pulled tooth and a lot more cellulite than most people Lornell's familiar with would carry. She slept for nine hours and only woke up two hours ago. She can play the harp but not well.

And she can't - ?  No, okay.

"Where is my map?"

"Your map?"

"Before, I drew a map.  Could do another if it's nowhere."

She finds it after a minute's rummaging.

"Okay."  They tap the page along with their descriptions.  "Ice.  Ice.  Telerta, my city.  Creta, my country.  Citrelia, my planet.  Everyone - everyone - every person on Citrelia, has an ability.  Different versions, yes, growing and changing, yes, some with very little for a time to learn more, yes.  Some with philosophical objections, and don't use it?  Maybe.  But everyone on Citrelia has it.

You don't."

"...okay," she says, waiting to see where he's going with this story.

"So I am not on Citrelia."

"Citrelia is definitely not a name I have heard used to refer to any place around here, no."

". . . May I take more of Lozan from you?  It will feel like nothing and leave you with no less."

"...okay."

They nod.

"I think I'm a slider."

"Because you remember being from - Citrelia?"

"Yes.  In great detail, and I don't know what so many things here are.  Like motors."

"- you're talking better now," she observes.

"Yes.  I was - not fluent in Lozan, but an amount of fluent in it, and much less than that an amount of . . . being fluent in being fluent in it.  It isn't integrated yet.  So borrowing from another person all the time helps.  Until I've - sorted through it better."

"Sliders are... fictional... but if you can do that with other things I guess you could convince me?"

"I could grow out my hair some based off yours?"

"- sure."

A section of Lorn's hair near the front starts getting longer (from the ends or possibly the middle, not the roots) and acquires the same texture and color as the orderly's.

"- yikes. Okay. Uh, are you actually sick or did you just get dropped here because nobody knew what to do with you?"

"The second one."

"Okay. I guess I'll... discharge you?"

"Where will I go?"

"- well, I don't know. I guess you could go to a House of Truth and prove it to them and see what happens once people believe you."

" - Okay.  May I borrow your knowledge on how to get to one of those and what it is."

"That still doesn't do anything to me, right? Why do you even have a custom of asking?"

"It doesn't and I don't, I just don't want to hurt anyone's feelings here.  You're all - very different from the sort of people I'm used to."

"Well, if it doesn't do anything to me I don't mind if you pull directions to the House of Truth."

"Okay."  What's the deal with the House of Truth?

It's a quasireligious institution where people work as notaries, witnesses, reporters, inspectors, and similar due to having taken a very culturally weighty stance in favor of absolutely never lying even slightly.

Huh, okay.  "Do you think anyone at all will mind if I borrow their Lozan while talking to them?  Because of - privacy, maybe, or something else?  Or would it be moral to do it without asking."

"- is there something private you get in addition to just the language?"

"I get their knowledge of it and not anyone else's?  People think about things in different ways."

"I guess it would be polite to ask as, like, a hypothetical, if they don't believe you, but probably you should go to the House of Truth and prove it with the hair thing and then ask once they do believe you."

"I mostly meant for on the way there but maybe it won't come up.  Do you want this?"  They produce a small knife from a pocket in their wrap-vest-thing and start sawing near their scalp at the lock of longer hair.

"...no, not really. Trash is over there." Point.

Hair gets tossed.  Was the House of Truth pedestrianable-to on a reasonable timescale?  Also Lorn is getting kind of hungry, how was the orderly on having recently eaten?

The orderly had breakfast an hour ago! The House of Truth is a thirty minute walk.

"Do you mind if I also borrow your lack of hungriness?  And then I'll leave."

"Uh, go for it."

"Thank you for everything.  Do I need to do anything to be discharged?"

"No, I've got it, you can just walk out."

"Okay.  Have a nice life."  And they're off.

Nobody bothers them on the way to the House of Truth.

Running there would normally be time alone in Lorn's head, and in other circumstances they might start to panic about the moral emergency potentially implied by an entire planet of people who can't - do they die - quite possibly they have other solutions in place and Lorn is not going to freak out yet and they're going to achieve that via running as fast as they can manage the whole time even though they're not copying unrunning off of anyone.

Is it obvious with the orderly's knowledge where to go once inside?

The orderly would follow the signs! There are signs, with arrows pointing in various directions and listing room numbers for:

- Records Room
- Notary
- Ceremonial Hall
- Committed Dormitory
- Classrooms
- Press Offices
- Inspection Offices
- Dressing Rooms
- Photography Studio
- Meeting Rooms
- Witness Pool

. . . . Lornell has not yet picked up how to read Lozan.  Whoops!  Is anyone around?

Yup, there are people in uniform (floorlength white dresses with bishop sleeves and mandarin collars, and long vests of various colors with various pins on them) and some people not in uniform, going to and fro.

Lornell approaches the most interruptable-looking one.  "Excuse me, a moment?"

There is one sitting on a bench over there looking at her phone! "What is it?" she asks, looking up at him.

"I'm a slider.  Who do I talk to to prove this?"

"How do you propose to go about proving it?"

"I have magic that lets me copy traits and things from other people."

"Such as?"

This is slightly outside what Lorn prepped grammar for but that's fine - "Hair, physical traits general . . . ly, skills, knowledge.  Not episodish memory."

"It sounds like you probably want a registered photo series."

"Okay!  Where?"

"The photo studio is on the floor below this one, and I can see a stairwell in that corner." Point.

"Okay!"  Presumably none of these rooms are Obviously a photo studio, given that Lorn doesn't know what that is, but they can hope?

The rooms are labeled!

That's a no, then!  It's fine, they will ask yet another person.

What's the deal with the photo studio; does it look like they should wait outside the door, is there someone to talk to . . .

The photo studio is further subdivided with paper accordioning barriers. He does get a super weird look when he indicates he can't read.

In the photo studio there is a uniformed person at a desk working on his computer. He looks up at Lornell. "Hello, how can I help you?"

"I'm a slider, I have magic that lets me copy traits and things from other people - like generally physical things, skills, and knowledge, but not episodish memory - and an upstairs person recommended me a registered photo series."

"Can you demonstrate that now before we set up?"

"Yes."  They repeat the hair trick.

The person behind the desk's eyes go very wide. He gets up and comes around. "May I?" he asks, reaching for the altered hair.

"Yes.  - Or, you may touch the hair.  Please without pulling or caressing it."

"I would like to check if it is growing directly from your scalp. I will not do this without your permission but if you don't let someone inspect it closely we won't be able to certify much about the photos."

"Don't be - checking-me-out-like, or hurt on purpose?  Otherwise fine.  I just want avoid miscommunication and upsetness."

"I'm not particularly attracted to you," he says. "I might want to pull out one or two hairs. Is that all right?"

"Yes."

He comes closer, sifts through the hair, tugs one free.

"Amazing," he murmurs. "What is it you need the photos specifically for?"

"I don't know; an upstairs person said so.  I would like help.  People in a park did not help; people at Sarind Memorial Hospital did not help despite I let them drug me for hours.  Where does a slider go?  No one has said."

"Well, as far as I'm aware you're the first slider ever to come here. What kind of help do you need?"

"I don't know.  I don't know anything about here.  Can learn, once there is someone it's okay to learn from.  Probably not you, if you are important and know secret things.  But I have no apartment, no money, no life, no friends.  In maybe a week or less I will urgent need a friend, person who likes talking with me, or I will be very sad and want to do no things.  If that and if permission from very skill people, I do anything, another best in the world apparently, very helpful a credit to Loza!  But how to start."

"...I don't know secret things, that's not really a House of Truth thing."

"Okay."

"What we can do for you is confirm that you seem to have magical powers, and people will believe us because we don't lie."

maybe Lorn will be very sad and want to do no things about not having any friends here yet RIGHT NOW actually

"Okay.  Should I borrow your knowledge of things instead of asking questions?"

"If that won't do anything to me."

"It will not."  What are photos, what's a registered photo series specifically, how will they help?

Photos are a way of recording images, and the House of Truth does photos and then keeps verified records of when and under what conditions those were taken, for example for ID purposes.

That's pretty nifty.

"Probably I should look however I expect to want to long-term here, in these?  - Or can I come back for another set later."

"They... do cost money. My statement doesn't and will probably be about as good for your purposes."

"I will come back when I have any money and take a statement for now, please."

"Okay." He goes back behind his desk and types something up and prints a thing and gives Lornell the printed thing. "That will let anyone you show it to look up my statement on our website."

"Thank you so much."  Lornell scoops his knowledge of what a website is and then will . . . hang outside and memorize what's on the sheet?  Still without being able to read it; they should probably prioritize picking that up at some point.

They honestly have no idea what to do next, does anything conveniently present itself during that time?

Eventually another one of the uniformed people exits the House of Truth and approaches him! "Are you the guy who's apparently a slider?"

"Yes!"

"Can I see? I mean I saw the statement but I would like to see myself if that's okay."

"Sure!"  Lorn completes their hat trick of hair tricks.

"Wow! That's super cool - um, anyway, I have a spare room at my place, if you need a place to sleep -"

"Yes, please, I would be so grateful, can I do anything for you?"

"I mean probably something will come up but I don't have anything in mind right now, I just think it's super cool that you're a real slider."

"That is more an expected reaction than everyone else!  This world and its people are very different than my."

"- it seems likely that most people didn't believe you, and anyone who might have believed you was probably not listening too closely because you have an accent?"

"I can have no or smaller accent if I may borrow your speaking.  No effects except on me."

"Yeah, please, it'd be much easier to talk to you."

"Oh.  I didn't realize it was that inconvenient for people.  I'm not very special at home but here probably everyone here is much worse at everything . . ."

"If you can all just copy off whoever's best at everything I bet!"

Lorn nods.  "Do you have things you want to stay private or can I take basic knowledge about this world from you."

"I... don't think you'd get anything private if you were looking for basic knowledge, like, that doesn't seem like it'd include my sex life or anything?"

"I will definitely avoid everything at all about your sex life."

"Then yeah, go ahead."

"Okay."

Lornell sinks their head into their hands and clutches a little at their hair.

"You have so many exciting and marvelous things here.  I hoped maybe one of them would be a way to fix aging."

"- no, we don't have that - fixed - it doesn't seem like it'll be a problem for you specifically?"

"Not for a while.  But there's the rest of you, and - it took my society a long time to figure it out; it's very complicated, people would look young but still mysteriously die, eventually, until we found all the little tiny things you have to keep track of.  And I don't know them all because I'm only - " scoop the local calendar system, math math math math "fifteen or sixteenish."

"We know some things about aging, but we don't have magic. If we did we'd probably have it solved like your people by now."

"Yes.  You've figured out so many things for people who have to learn everything on their own."

"Maybe we do more in parallel than you? - have you eaten, do you need to eat, I was about to go home and have dinner -"

"I sometimes eat but mostly not, and I just borrowed fullness a little while ago.  Food is - wow, a lot cheaper here.  Probably I'll eat more in general now."

"- huh, I guess if you mostly don't need to eat you wouldn't have economies of scale - well, anyway, you can come over to my house." He leads the way through the streets; apparently he walks to work.

"I appreciate that so much!"  Maybe if Lorn concentrates really hard on doing a nice-looking job of sawing off their two new pieces of hair, walking won't feel so unbearably slow.

"Do you need anything?"

"At some soonish point, before my picture series, I would like to find some people my age who I can use to look younger.  And think about other changes I might want now in a world where people are mostly expected to look mostly the same from season to season.  And get information from lots and lots of people so I can find the very best thing for me to be doing here."

"I've got a downstairs neighbor who's fifteen. Why do you want to look younger?"

"Right now I look this old because I like having this general physicality and it was more convenient to match the face to that, and at home I can signal how old I really am with my hairstyle and clothes and things.  Here everyone is just the age they are and people have been - looking at me.  Romantically.  And in general I just don't want to give an inaccurate impression."

"Oh, gotcha. Yeah, we can ask my neighbor, if a fifteen year old who otherwise looks nothing like you will do."

"I will probably want to borrow from multiple fifteenish year olds and also research whether there are other cultural appearance markers that I'd care about."

"We can usually tell where somebody's from more or less, or where their family's from at least."

"Oh?  How?"

"People look like their parents - uh, and then stay that way - so if people stay in one area for a long time and intermarry they all kind of resemble each other. Like - that guy, over there, driving the pedicab, he looks like he's from Africa*, I can tell because he's got really dark skin. If I were more familiar with different ethnic groups I could maybe be more specific but it's also possible he's from Islandmost**."

*No, they don't call it Africa.
**Australia. Because it is the most island.

"Hmm," hums Lorn as they scoop geographic information out of their new friend.  - Are any of the countries here full of nicer people, not the same way Creta is back home, obviously, but maybe aiming for something similar given the resources they have?

His escort is not aware of a country that is attempting institutional systemic niceness.

. . . Any stereotypes about populaces?

There's a country where their tourists are always complaining about the lack of train service and don't like riding buses! There's a country where they're particular sticklers about not trying to have a conversation through an accent barrier and will just write everything in their cute color coordinated dedicated devices for that purpose that aren't sold around here! There's a country where they flee from the rainy season to here sometimes and they do tipping, which is a barbarous custom but does make them popular among service staff!

Why is tipping barbarous?

Because it makes it impossible to guess how much money you'll make from your work in advance, and furthermore incentivizes excessively pandering and obsequious behavior beyond the normal level of professionalism you want in service staff just from their background expectation that any customer may be a spy.

Huh.  "I haven't noticed a particular place I want to seem like I'm from."

"All right, well, you can pull random bits and pieces and look like a mutt, that's fine."

"Okay."  They finish sawing their hair and pocket it (and their knife) and make it about a dozen paces before they switch to hopping with their feet together in order to match the pace of their companion.

"Why are you hopping?" said companion inquires.

"I'm not used to strolling.  It feels very slow to me."

"Oh. Well, we're almost there."

A block later they reach the apartment building where Lorn has been invited to stay and the apartment within it that contains the promised couch. "I forgot to ask your name. I'm called Chirun," says his host.

"Mine's Lorn or Lornell, either one is fine.  I'm very grateful for your hospitality."  Hey Chirun's brain what's all this stuff in here?

That's a TV! That's a microwave! That's a sink! That's a refrigerator! That's a sofa! That's a window decal of a snowflake! That's a cat, variety Goldeneyed Flatcat*, black and curled up on the windowseat. The cat's name is Enoby**.

Chirun sets his bag down beside the sofa. "That's the spare room," he says, pointing at one of two doors leading out from the open-plan middle of the apartment.

* This means "you keep it in an apartment (flat)", not "it is flat (in aspect ratio)". I translated it this way because I think I'm funny.
** No, it isn't literally "Enoby", that's a cultural translation. It is a comparable rearrangement of a word that actually means "black pepper". But it is a reference to a silly work of fiction with a lot of weird spelling.

Oh wow.  Lornell gets sucked into a bit of a wiki walk about the TV and and the microwave and - huh, there's something different about the way the cat is thought of than they expected, too -

Apparently they're at least somewhat better at standing still than walking slowly; they stare off in Chirun's general direction.

"- Lorn? You okay?"

"Hm?  - Yes, I'm fine.  The technology here is much better then we have at home; I got distracted. Do you want me to go in the spare room now?"

"Not if you don't feel like it, but you might want to make sure it looks like you'll be able to live with it, I don't know if you're allergic to my detergent or anything."

"I'll take a look at it!"  Lorn goes to take a look at it.

It has a bed made with goldenrod sheets lightly printed with paler spirals, and a window with the curtains closed over it, a nightstand, a dresser, and a closet with spare linens. Also it has a large cardboard box, which Chirun drags out of the room apologetically.

"This is lovely."

"Thanks! Don't mind the box, I store stuff in there sometimes - I need to return this -" Chirun moves the box to near the apartment's exit.

Lorn double-checks that 'thanks' is not rude in this dialect; okay cool.  "I won't; please don't worry about it.  - Do you need something ran somewhere?  That was my job, yesterday."

"- oh, sure, if you want to return it for me that would be convenient! I was going to borrow the neighbor's wagon but you can probably just haul it, can't you. It's already reboxed, just needs to be dropped off at the depot."

"Sure!  Right now?"

"I have till the end of the month but no reason not to do it now!"

"Okay seeya!"  Lorn scoops the box and the location of the depot simultaneously and heads out.

The depot is three blocks away and there is a clearly marked conveyor belt to put returns and outgoing packages on.

That's easy enough then.  Back to Chirun's!

Chirun has turned on some music and is fixing dinner (looks like noodles and veggies and chicken). "Hey! I'm making enough for two but if you don't like this and would rather just yoink being fed it leaves over fine," he says. "What do people who eat even eat where you're from?"

"It looks delicious!  I'm very excited to eat more often - hm, it looks like a most of our very basic ingredients are the same, chicken and specific plants and stuff; there are a few differences but not too many - you have a lot more spice-ish things and stuff that you can just eat right away without being a good cook."

"Yeah, some people lean a lot on convenience food. I'm trying to graduate from frozen stuff to stuff I just put in a pan so it looks like I'm really cooking, and it's going pretty well so far, but my dad is a great cook."

"At home I like to eat often enough that I have appliances for it, and I keep on top of being a good cook but sometimes by recopying it instead of practicing myself."

"Huh, you have to re-copy it? It doesn't stick?"

Quick check to make sure that people don't just keep skills forever here - "I mean, the same way that if I didn't do any acrobatics for a long time I'd get worse at them, or if I didn't exercise at all I'd start to lose muscle?"

"Huh, okay. I guess that makes sense but it's harder to imagine than a magically acquired skill just staying put for some reason." He dishes up the noodles into two bowls and hands Lornell one.

"It's reasonable that you'd think so!"  Lornell tucks in.  "It's really cool that you can just play music without anyone having to make it at the time.  - I wonder - hm - no, the singer doesn't seem to count as a person I can borrow from."

"That makes sense, since she's not here," giggles Chirun.

"I wasn't sure!  I know you can copy better from someone standing in the right spot in an amphitheater; it might have been like that."

"Huh! Better how? Is it like - acoustics somehow?"