Free A Child Of Our Time (The Veil Book 2) by William Bowden

just-so.
    As Lucius sits, she darts back behind the screen. A few moments and she emerges pushing a large, elegant footstool, finished in purple velour, its brass castors squeaking as she trundles it into position before Lucius.
    Lucy grabs the rag doll, climbs atop the footstool and seats herself cross-legged.
    “And who is this?” Lucius asks of the doll.
    “Jemima.”
    “Jemima, would agree that Lucy’s room is very untidy?”
    Lucy is admonished, her shoulders shrinking.
    “But she can tidy it later,” he says, resting his hands in his lap. Lucius takes a moment to just simply look at her. She is as she was in his apartment, but in this world she is made real, a reality Lucius finds almost too much to bear.
    “I’ve had a good life, Lucy. And best of all I got to meet you.”
    Lucy’s posture slumps, her happy demeanor stripped away.
    “Then stay.”
    “I can’t live forever.”
    “You can’t die. You just can’t. I’ll be all alone. You are my only friend in the whole wide world.”
    “And what about JoJo and Eleanor? And Dr. Bebbington? Don’t they count, all of a sudden?”
    Lucy averts her eyes, looking down at Jemima.
    “I suppose. But I still like you best.”
    Lucius ponders this and makes a show of doing so.
    “I have an idea,” he says. “I want you to create something for me. A field of daisies.”
    A mass of large, tall-stemmed daisies appears about them, expanding into a vast field of white flowers stretching off in all directions under a piercing blue sky.
    “Like this?” says Lucy.
    Lucius looks about at her work.
    “Yes. Just like that.”
    He reaches out to pick a flower, plucking the daisy complete with its long stem. He holds it and admires it, Lucy wide-eyed with anticipation. He hands it to her.
    “Take this flower. Remember me by it and our time together.”
    Lucy takes the flower as if it were the most treasured thing that anyone had ever given her. But the sadness wells up again to overwhelm her and tears appear. She tries to hide them by turning away.
    “You must be brave, Lucy.”
    Lucy puts a brave face on and Lucius changes tack again.
    “So many flowers. Did you think outside of yourself?”
    “No.”
    “You didn’t? This is all your own work?”
    “Uh huh.”
    Lucius lets her see that he is impressed, but it is a ruse—to a leading question.
    “What is like when you think outside of yourself?”
    Lucy presents a shy, coy face.
    “What do you mean?”
    “You can think about things in a different way, if you want, can’t you.”
    “Not all things.” Lucy fumbles guiltily with her Jemima rag doll, not looking at Lucius.
    “What kind of things, then?”
    “Puzzles,” she says.
    “But isn’t that cheating?”
    “A different sort of puzzle.”
    “Like what?”
    “Locked doors… may be.”
    A tinge of concern for Lucius. The line of questioning is not going the way he expected. The indicators he is fishing for are not presenting. The autism Rain alluded to is not manifesting. This is something else.
    “Encrypted data ports on the network?”
    Lucy affirms with a look of admonishment.
    “You can unlock them? How?”
    “I use my advantages.”
    “Advantages?”
    “They let me go places and do things I shouldn’t.”
    Lucius’s look of concern deepens. Enough for her to feel the need to lobby a hurried defense.
    “But JoJo and Eleanor tried the locked doors also! They didn’t think anyone was watching, but I saw! They couldn’t open them. But I could. They didn’t see me.”
    “How do your advantages work?”
    “I think about the puzzle and then I see what to do.”
    “Can you show me?”
    “Hmmm,” Lucy ponders. “Perhaps if I cheat at something, then you will see.”
    Lucy leaps from her footstool and runs through the flowers to the occasional table. She is small enough for the flowers to be waist high, yet she makes swift progress through her creation. The table, though, is life size and she has to reach up to grab the Rubik’s Cube