Minali didn’t include a live audio transmitter with the implant. If she had, she’d have heard my planning with
Dom. I’d never have made it out of the house.
But what if the implant
is
programmed for more than watching whether I use my voice? Voice-recognition might just mean it’s programmed for
my
voice, or it could also mean
it listens for certain words said around me. Key words that’ll trigger the booby trap set to kill my brothers.
My ribs tighten on my lungs, refusing to let me breathe. Dom said a lot of key words when I was still home, but maybe the implant is sophisticated enough to recognize if I try to spell out
Minali’s whole plan. Maybe I’m becoming completely paranoid.
Maybe, maybe…maybe a lot of things, and I have precisely zero way of knowing whether any are true. Tiav’s program means I just need time to write things out, but I can’t risk it.
Not yet, not without figuring out more first.
Tiav’s hand moves to rest on my shoulder. The contact startles me.
“Are you okay? You said you’re in trouble back there. Did something bad happen?”
I nod and work out the only thing I can think of that might be safe.
“How—dont no. Ack-sih-dent.”
“But you said you came here for a reason.”
True, I did.
“Naht mye ree-sun.”
This little bit of conversation has taken forever. I’m not sure how long, because I can’t decipher the Ferinne clocks. But between my false starts and some symbols sounding the same
at first but not really and my mind wandering off mid-alphabet when I need to be focusing, I’m pretty sure we’ve been in the office for at least an hour. I don’t know how Tiav
puts up with the waiting, but the inefficiency is making me want to punch my fist through the desk.
I have Tiav’s voice and the voice of the computer, but it’s still like when I’m alone at the house. Silence suffocates me.
It’s worse than that. I’m alone away from home. Something I’ve never been. Not really. Not for more than a day. I miss Dom. Dom could find a way to speed it up. A lump of
emotion adds to the constant pressure in my throat.
Tiav sees that, or sees something, because he blanks the computer. “Let’s take a break. Come on.”
That kind of break sounds like a better alternative than the kind I was about to put in the equipment, so I stand and follow him out of the room.
We walk down to the second floor of the Nyum, the balcony overlooking the circular lobby. Tiav leans comfortably against the railing, waiting for me to join him. Then he gestures to the shelves
along the walls.
“See all those books? They hold the history of Ferinne, everything ever written by the Aelo for nearly two thousand years. It’s all in the computer databases now, of course, but we
keep the books. My mother has rooms full of them at home, too.”
The word
books
seems vaguely familiar, and I realize it’s why this place reminded me of Tarix. Old records and history. The “thinkers” on Tarix have the last remnants
of our written language, maybe in things called books. I must have seen a few during a childhood visit.
“You don’t use writing anymore, but you still keep history, right?” Tiav continues. “Recordings, images, computers that can dictate it back to you?”
Yes, that’s the only form of record keeping I’ve ever known. Talking to Dom or having him find old news-vids for me. Never had a problem with it.
“We do all that, too, but sometimes it’s good to go back to the books. Quieter. Slower.”
Why would anyone want to do something slower? Wasting time isn’t efficient. I should know. I’ve wasted plenty and have zero appearances at the Tech Reveal to show for it.
Tiav seems to understand what I’m thinking, even without knowing the specifics. “Slower doesn’t sound better, but really, sometimes it is. If you give your mind a quiet moment,
that’s when the best ideas come. Trying to write frustrates you, Liddi. I can see that. It takes a long time to
Dom. I’d never have made it out of the house.
But what if the implant
is
programmed for more than watching whether I use my voice? Voice-recognition might just mean it’s programmed for
my
voice, or it could also mean
it listens for certain words said around me. Key words that’ll trigger the booby trap set to kill my brothers.
My ribs tighten on my lungs, refusing to let me breathe. Dom said a lot of key words when I was still home, but maybe the implant is sophisticated enough to recognize if I try to spell out
Minali’s whole plan. Maybe I’m becoming completely paranoid.
Maybe, maybe…maybe a lot of things, and I have precisely zero way of knowing whether any are true. Tiav’s program means I just need time to write things out, but I can’t risk it.
Not yet, not without figuring out more first.
Tiav’s hand moves to rest on my shoulder. The contact startles me.
“Are you okay? You said you’re in trouble back there. Did something bad happen?”
I nod and work out the only thing I can think of that might be safe.
“How—dont no. Ack-sih-dent.”
“But you said you came here for a reason.”
True, I did.
“Naht mye ree-sun.”
This little bit of conversation has taken forever. I’m not sure how long, because I can’t decipher the Ferinne clocks. But between my false starts and some symbols sounding the same
at first but not really and my mind wandering off mid-alphabet when I need to be focusing, I’m pretty sure we’ve been in the office for at least an hour. I don’t know how Tiav
puts up with the waiting, but the inefficiency is making me want to punch my fist through the desk.
I have Tiav’s voice and the voice of the computer, but it’s still like when I’m alone at the house. Silence suffocates me.
It’s worse than that. I’m alone away from home. Something I’ve never been. Not really. Not for more than a day. I miss Dom. Dom could find a way to speed it up. A lump of
emotion adds to the constant pressure in my throat.
Tiav sees that, or sees something, because he blanks the computer. “Let’s take a break. Come on.”
That kind of break sounds like a better alternative than the kind I was about to put in the equipment, so I stand and follow him out of the room.
We walk down to the second floor of the Nyum, the balcony overlooking the circular lobby. Tiav leans comfortably against the railing, waiting for me to join him. Then he gestures to the shelves
along the walls.
“See all those books? They hold the history of Ferinne, everything ever written by the Aelo for nearly two thousand years. It’s all in the computer databases now, of course, but we
keep the books. My mother has rooms full of them at home, too.”
The word
books
seems vaguely familiar, and I realize it’s why this place reminded me of Tarix. Old records and history. The “thinkers” on Tarix have the last remnants
of our written language, maybe in things called books. I must have seen a few during a childhood visit.
“You don’t use writing anymore, but you still keep history, right?” Tiav continues. “Recordings, images, computers that can dictate it back to you?”
Yes, that’s the only form of record keeping I’ve ever known. Talking to Dom or having him find old news-vids for me. Never had a problem with it.
“We do all that, too, but sometimes it’s good to go back to the books. Quieter. Slower.”
Why would anyone want to do something slower? Wasting time isn’t efficient. I should know. I’ve wasted plenty and have zero appearances at the Tech Reveal to show for it.
Tiav seems to understand what I’m thinking, even without knowing the specifics. “Slower doesn’t sound better, but really, sometimes it is. If you give your mind a quiet moment,
that’s when the best ideas come. Trying to write frustrates you, Liddi. I can see that. It takes a long time to
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