The Puzzler's War by Eyal Kless

Author:Eyal Kless
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2020-02-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 40

Artium

Entry 11693

Typical summer season. The instruments showed 61.3 degrees midday with chilly downslope winds in the afternoon. The radiation storm has changed directions and passed thirty miles to our east. It has been three weeks since Emilija was brought to the SkyWatchers compound . . .

Artium hesitated. He placed the cup gently above the fireplace and turned to watch the girl sitting by the screen. She had paused together with his sentence, her hands hovering above the keyboard, her eyes focused and unwavering. She did not turn her head towards him or even relax her body, but simply ceased all movement and waited for him to continue.

He had to admit, the girl was strange, but not in a frightening way. She never complained, no matter what he asked of her. A few days ago, in a moment of frustration, he told her to type his words for him. He stood next to her as she sat for the first time in front of the screen, or at least that was what he thought at the time. Now he was getting suspicious that the girl’s hesitation was only an act. The machine was older than Artium, even older than the Catastrophe. The numbers and letters had to be manually typed on a physical keyboard. Artium remembered the months it took him to master it and gain any kind of speed. By the third page, Emilija was typing at the speed of speech. If she did not know a word she would ask but otherwise not one word or letter was wrong. When Artium asked Emilija about it she just said, “The pattern is simple,” as if that explained everything.

Now that the process of dictation seemed so easy and natural, Artium found himself dictating his personal logs as well. Emilija just kept typing without any reaction to anything he said, even when he talked about her or the conversation he’d had with her foster parents.

On a personal note:

Emilija resumed typing. A baby owl chick landed on her shoulder, but she ignored it completely.

Emilija has rearranged the living and working area and I am content that it is much better now.

It was true. The girl knew how to clean all right, but the way she rearranged things was uncanny. Every day she went to another room and by the time she was done it was . . . well . . . perfect. Suddenly there was more space, and his tools were within arm’s reach and Artium stopped hitting the corner of the table every time he walked past it. Again, in response to his praises she would just utter, “The pattern is better this way,” like it was some kind of an obvious explanation.

To my request, Emilija trimmed my beard and cut her hair. The outcome was—

Artium paused and glanced at the poor girl.

—satisfactory.

Now that was a complete disaster. He had simply commented on the volume of her disarrayed hair and the risk of lice. The next thing he knew Emilija

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