Savant by Nik Abnett

Author:Nik Abnett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Rebellion Publishing Ltd

Chapter Twenty-Eight

TOBE WAS SITTING on his stool at the kitchen counter, while Metoo moved around him, clearing away his dishes. When she had finished, she sat at the counter opposite him.

“Tobe,” said Metoo, “you can’t go to the office today.”

“Tobe always goes to the office, except on rest days.”

“Service messed up, and you need to have another rest day,” said Metoo, hoping that it would be enough, but knowing that it wouldn’t.

“Yesterday was a rest day, because... Why was yesterday a rest day? What day is it? Why can’t Tobe go to the office? Let Tobe go to the office.”

“It’s not up to me,” said Metoo, avoiding answering too many questions in the hope that Tobe might forget that he’d asked them.

“Metoo sends Tobe to the office. It is up to Metoo.”

“No. It’s Service, remember?”

“Service is gone.”

“No. Service is still there, but they talk to me, now, instead of talking to you.”

“Tell them, Tobe is going to the office, today.”

“It doesn’t work like that. There is something they want you to do, though.” She hoped that taking a different tack might help.

“Tobe always works in the office. What is the probability of Tobe working in the office?”

“But you worked here, in your room, yesterday,” said Metoo, smiling, and trying to keep the conversation manageable, and light.

“A black swan,” said Tobe, apparently deep in thought for a moment. “They used to call it a black swan. Probability.”

“Probability,” said Metoo.

“They want Tobe to do more probability?”

“No. They want you to answer some questions.”

“Tobe’s job is to answer questions, find solutions, work out the maths for things. Tobe is always trying to answer questions.”

“Not those sorts of questions, other sorts.”

“Other sorts? What other questions? Who wants to ask Tobe questions?”

“Well, could I ask you some questions?”

“‘Could I ask you some questions?’ That’s a question.” Tobe chuckled low in his chest, and looked over Metoo’s shoulder, apparently into space. His head tipped back slightly, and he closed his eyes and began to murmur.

Metoo reached across the kitchen counter, and took Tobe’s face in her hands. He dropped his head to a front-facing position and opened his eyes.

“May I ask you some questions?” asked Metoo.

“‘May I ask you some questions?’ That is asking Tobe a question.”

“And what is Tobe’s answer?”

“That is a question, too.”

“I’m going to ask you some questions, now,” said Metoo, smiling slightly, knowing that Tobe might be a genius, but he was a genius with limitations.

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