[This vignette occurs just after Chapter 45 of The Maker’s Ark. The latest chapter of The Maker’s Ark is here, and links to some of my other work are here. Updates are posted irregularly–theoretically every two weeks, a schedule I still aspire to return to someday.]

Insomnia wasn’t something Flicker usually thought about, or even noticed; when she was growing up, it was the default, and she formed her habits accordingly. What was still new to her was considering how it might affect someone else sharing her bed. She’d moved to the next compartment to read in order to avoid disturbing Journeyman.

The rumble of the main drive of the Learning Is About To Occur kept her company on the couch as she skimmed a translated Grs'thnk survey article on the effects of non-standard communication modes on social development. Learning had inquired politely if she wished conversation, and she had politely declined. The only other person on the ship who had context for what she wanted to talk about was asleep, and she wasn’t going to–

The hatch opened, revealing Journeyman, in the t-shirt and shorts he’d worn to bed–his habits were shaped by the occasional need for an abrupt port. His hat was in the form of a nightcap, which she thought was a nice touch.

“Figured,” he said. "How bad?“

"I’m okay,” said Flicker. "Didn’t want to wake you just to ramble at you.“

"Flicker, you can always–”

She shook her head. "Listening is an effort right now. And one-sided conversations are rude, especially when you’re short of sleep too.“

Journeyman was a pattern magician, and he had a skilled actor’s mastery of gesture and nuance. He adjusted the brim of the cap, which morphed into a beach hat. His t-shirt shifted to a colorful Aloha shirt, a snap of his fingers made an iced drink appear in his hand, and he sat down on the couch beside her. He stretched out one leg to rest a now-sandaled foot on the table, waved expansively with his free hand, and raised an eyebrow at her with a smile, a picture of comfortable relaxation.

He could give an eloquent speech with exactly zero words.

Flicker blinked and turned off her handcomp. "Okay,” she said. "When I came back down from the translation session, I said I’d want to talk later. It’s later. There are some old memories that I’ve wanted to share for a while, but–well, I’ll explain.“

"Go ahead,” he said.

“Did you ever notice the old lockbox in my bedroom?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t going to ask. Magicians know better.”

“There’s a keepsake in it. I’d have told you before, but… When I started recovering some of my childhood memories, it connected to some dark stuff, even though the other memories I have of it are good. But it’s still my most emotionally important possession.”

“Keepsakes can be like that.”

“Yeah.” Flicker paused. "When Gumshoe and the Volunteer got me out of that orphanage, it was an effort for me to understand speech. But when I realized the Volunteer was going to take me somewhere else, I wouldn’t go with him until I went and got something. He couldn’t keep up with me–that’s what made it obvious that my power was speed. Also, I destroyed some doors, and was clutching it protectively when I came back, so everyone figured out right away that it was a good idea to let me keep it. And I couldn’t talk yet, but I could read, and even write a little.“

"You said someone tried to teach you,” said Journeyman.

“Yeah. I’m not sure how old I was… it wasn’t the last place I was in, it was the one before it, the one that burned down. So maybe four or five? I don’t remember any details. They might have stopped because they thought I was deaf. My hearing was very hit or miss–that was before I figured out how to control my internal speed to make it reliable. Every time I sped up to think, I’d stop hearing, and that chopped up sounds into bits too brief to reassemble.

"Or they might have stopped because I didn’t get that pictures and words could go together. Or maybe they were told to stop. I don’t know. Anyway, whoever tried didn’t get far. That’s not how I learned to read. But it was enough to plant the idea that patterns on paper could mean something important. I didn’t have anything to connect them to, though. Then, quite a while later, I found something.”

Flicker smiled. "There wasn’t much written or printed material that I could get at. A few old magazines and some scraps of newspaper. They didn’t really help. The only thing I learned from them was that turning pages was tricky, and I needed to be careful if I didn’t want to destroy them. And then one day–I don’t remember how, there are still a lot of gaps–I found myself outside. I could move around if I really wanted. I just didn’t, mostly. Nowhere to go, I wasn’t very coordinated yet, and I was discouraged from trying for… well, pretty good reasons if you were a nearby human.

“It was sunny out, and there was another building nearby, with a big open door, so I went in. I didn’t recognize most of what I saw, but I remember the smell. It was distinctive–grease, oil, metal, and dust. Old workshop or small machine shop, one that hadn’t been used much in a while. I poked around a bit. I remember a big workbench with scattered tools and a vice clamped to one end, a chain hoist, and a metal cabinet with shelves. And on one of the shelves was a book.”

Flicker closed her eyes, remembering. "I was very lucky. When I opened it, and carefully turned a few pages, I knew I had found something important, something amazing. It was full of printing, writing, that I didn’t understand yet, but I sensed that I could learn. Understanding was possible. I picked it up, went back outside where the light was better, and started. I don’t remember anything of my surroundings after that. At some point they found me and herded me back inside, but I didn’t mind, I took the book with me. I don’t think they were ever stupid enough to try to take it away. I know I was easier to deal with when I had my book, so they didn’t have reason.“

"I taught myself to read using that book. And once I could puzzle some of it out, I realized just how wonderful it was.” She opened her eyes again. "It was the best book in the world. What I read… fit, with a part of my mind I hadn’t even realized I had. It was precious. I kept it wrapped up when I wasn’t reading it, and slept with it under my pillow. The Trickster never tried to take it away, though I was afraid he might. I don’t think he understood it.“

"The only time anything bad happened, was when I woke up one night and there were these bugs. There were always bugs around, and I usually ignored them. But these bugs were trying to eat my book. I got really scared and mad. I killed the bugs, then looked where they were coming from and pulled it open and there were more, so I killed them too, and…” Flicker looked down. "I wasn’t careful. I got rid of the bugs. But I got rid of the building too. That was the fire.“

"Ah,” said Journeyman. "Was– wait, never mind, stupid question. Go on.“

"What? Go ahead, now I’m curious.”

“Gah. Okay. That mission back when we were first working together. I said ‘You don’t burn down your house to kill the bugs.’ You got upset but couldn’t explain why.”

“Yeah,” said Flicker. "I didn’t have the memory back yet, but I still had some reactions from around it. And there are records of people dying in that fire. That’s the worst part. Doc thought–I thought–the fire was part of a cover-up, that the people were already dead. But they’d have to plan that, and they didn’t. I caused it.“

"Not… necessarily.”

Flicker frowned. "What do you mean? Too much damage, too much heat transfer–boom, fire. That was me.“

"Yeah, but the Trickster was your real jailer. Getting other people to take the fall for things he planned was his specialty. If he wanted, he could send in the bugs with a pretty good idea of what would happen. And even if he didn’t, the scuzzy humans running the place wouldn’t need any prodding to use a fire of unknown origin to explain otherwise suspicious deaths. Their other options would be worse–fires attract attention.”

Flicker thought for a bit, and blinked a few times. "Mike, you’re really good at making me feel better. And I love you for it. But you can’t know that.“

"No. But you can’t know it’s all your fault either. Accepting responsibility is one thing, but you don’t have to hoard it like a miser.”

“Okay. That’s… reasonable. Sorry.” Flicker wiped her eyes.

“You said there were good memories, too?”

“Oh yeah,” said Flicker. "My book kept me occupied, and grounded. I read and reread it for years.“

"I did that with a couple of spellbooks for a while.” said Journeyman, smiling. "They were reference works, but I used them as comfort reading.“

"The best kind. What I figured out last night was what made it click so well. That came back when I was tearing through that new Floater data dump looking for translation cues.”

“Was that why you were so happy when you slowed back down? I thought it was from the progress you made.”

“That, too. I kept jumping ahead of where Learning, DASI, and Three were consolidating. Because the Floaters included a bunch of older scientific reference texts as jumping off points, and I already had a Rosetta Stone for that sort of thing memorized. I know how to use formats and table descriptions and a whole bunch of other clues to learn an alien language, because I did it before. That’s how I learned English–using all the data and tables from my book and comparing with the formats and some leftover data from Skybreaker’s memory. She had non-volatile memory specifically for local physical constants and stuff, because she was created for inter-universal travel, so that’s where I stored the data from the book. That’s why I never lose it from my high speed memory when I sleep. And what made it fit, what made me sure it was important. It was like… a guide to where I was. Common math and purpose guided me when I read my book. I just had to build up meanings for the symbols and puzzle out the axioms.”

Flicker smiled again. "And it was the base I used to come back to myself, after Donner’s song of unbinding. My book still helps me, even though I’ve updated a lot of the data. So can you see why I’m sentimental about it?“

Journeyman stared into the distance for a bit before speaking, hesitantly. "So. I can guess what kind of book it was. Are you comfortable sharing the title?”

Flicker felt herself blush. "Oh! Yeah. It’s the CRC Handbook of Chemistry and Physics, the 44th edition for 1962 and 1963. 3,604 pages. I read every printed page, all the tiny writing, all the numbers and tables, all the graphs and charts and equations and footnotes. It gave me a taste of how much knowledge there was out there, organized and beautiful, even if I didn’t understand what it was all about yet. And the first time I visited Doc’s lab, and he gave me a high speed interface to his Database–I realized it was kind of like a living version of my book, bigger and faster and more up to date. That’s when I knew I was home. That Earth was home.“

Journeyman smiled. "That’s what I would call a pretty good book.”

“My book. Best book. I’ll show it to you when we get back to Earth.” Flicker yawned. "Sorry to blather for so long. But I think I’ll be able to sleep now.“

"Not blather. We share when we can.” Journeyman stood and stretched, and they moved back to the bedroom.

This time, sleep came easy.

