Chapter 100: Let Her Finish

Erto took the envelope without opening it again. Megan had already read enough of the figures aloud, and nobody in the room needed another look at what Rudolf thought raising her entitled him to collect. He asked Granny when she had received it, then waited while she explained that Rudolf had given her the papers before the visit. She was supposed to keep them ready and bring Megan into the office after the others had gone.

“You knew what he wanted her to sign?”

Granny lowered her eyes when Liam asked.

“I knew he wanted her to agree that she owed him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Megan asked.

“I thought I could speak to him first.”

“You asked me to come alone.”

Granny’s mouth trembled. She reached toward Megan, then stopped with her hand resting between them on the bed. Liam looked away long enough to give them some privacy, although there wasn’t anywhere else to go without leaving the room. He had seen Megan defend the woman, worry about her, and refuse to abandon her. That didn’t mean hearing this would hurt any less.

“I was afraid he would stop helping the children.”

Megan nodded slowly, as though the answer confirmed something she had been trying not to believe.

“And what was supposed to happen to me?”

Granny had no answer.

Clara moved the untouched food from the bedside table to the desk, making room for Erto to lay the envelope down. Liam watched Megan wipe her face with the heel of her hand before turning back toward him. She didn’t look ready to forgive anyone, and he wasn’t going to ask her to because Granny was crying.

“Give copies to whoever needs them,” she said. “The police too. I’ll explain the rest myself.”

Erto nodded.

“I’ll arrange for someone to speak with you tomorrow.”

“Not Rudolf’s people.”

“No.”

He photographed the pages with Megan’s permission, keeping them in order, then put everything back in the envelope. They established where Granny had kept it and who had known she had it. There was no hidden contract beneath the photographs, no signature Megan had forgotten giving. There were figures Rudolf had written down and a line he had expected her to sign. Liam was relieved by that much, although Jim’s attempt to take the bag made it difficult to believe Rudolf considered the papers harmless.

‘He can explain his own fucking numbers.’

They left Megan and Granny alone for a while. In the corridor, Erto told Liam that someone would remain nearby overnight and that the hotel staff had been informed Jim wasn’t welcome back. Liam thanked him, then went with Clara to have his wrist checked again. He didn’t argue this time. The pain had increased after the struggle, and spending the night pretending otherwise would only give her another reason to watch every movement he made.

They returned late enough that Megan was ready to sleep. She had decided to stay with Granny, but asked Clara to bring a few things from her room the following day. Liam checked that she had eaten, accepted a sharp look for asking twice, and finally left with Clara.

At the apartment, he managed to take off his shoes before sitting on the bed.

“You’re finished for tonight,” Clara said.

“I haven’t said anything.”

“You looked at your phone.”

He put it on the bedside table. She placed the screwdriver’s cradle beside it, helped him with the sleeve that wouldn’t clear his brace, and went to get changed. Liam remained sitting for a moment, looking at the small emerald tool. It shifted slightly inside the cradle when his attention settled on it.

‘You had the better day.’

The screwdriver rolled onto its side.

Liam wasn’t sure whether that counted as an answer.

By the following afternoon, he had attended his classes, answered Erto’s message confirming the appointment with Megan, and kept his promise to Alexandra. Clara dropped him off with a reminder about the wrist that he could probably have repeated word for word by then. He found Alexandra at the workbench, her hair tied up and several pages spread around a device he didn’t recognize immediately. The recorders had been moved onto a shelf. A small lamp occupied the space where they usually sat.

She looked at his brace before looking at his face.

“Clara told me.”

“Of course she did.”

“She also told me not to let you help carry anything.”

“I’m beginning to feel very included.”

“You can sit.”

Liam pulled out the chair. Alexandra kissed him before he could complain again, keeping one hand lightly against his shoulder, then turned back toward the bench. There was a tiredness around her eyes, but the scattered parts looked deliberate rather than abandoned. Each group had a small note beside it, and the notebook lay open to the questions they had written when they stopped planning a second batch of recorders.

“How’s your mother?”

“Better. She complained about the food.”

“That sounds promising.”

“She asked when you’re visiting again.”

“Tell her we’ll work something out.”

Alexandra smiled and moved one of the pages toward him. It was a short list of remaining repairs, with every name crossed through. Some buyers had taken their recorders back after the corrected parts were fitted. Others had accepted refunds. Liam read the final note, then looked at the shelf.

“That’s everyone?”

“Everyone we sold to.”

“And the copies?”

“The seller says he contacted the other two. I can’t confirm what they decided.”

Liam nodded. Their own obligations were finished. He didn’t need to invent more because the shelf looked less impressive with only a prototype on it. Alexandra closed that notebook and put it beneath the bench before opening another.

“This is what I wanted to show you.”

She pointed at the lamp.

“It turns on?”

“Very funny.”

“I’m trying to keep up.”

“It lets us stop guessing.”

The lamp was attached to a simple test arrangement with a meter and a separate switch. Alexandra showed him where the power cell would connect, where she would take the readings, and how she could disconnect it without reaching across the rest of the equipment. Beside it lay an ordinary power source she had used to check that the arrangement worked. Liam followed her explanation, resisting the temptation to reach for a connection simply because Material Analysis made him curious about it.

“What are we measuring first?”

“What it actually supplies under the same load. Then whether that changes over time.”

“And its full capacity?”

“Later.”

She said it without hesitation. Liam looked at the blank space she had left beneath the heading and smiled. A few days ago, they had been discussing what they could build around the cell before establishing what they could reliably ask it to do.

‘Good. One thing at a time.’

He placed the Divine Reserve Cell on the cleared section of the bench. Alexandra checked the connections again before attaching it, then asked him to keep his injured hand away from the table. He leaned back with an exaggerated sigh. She ignored him and turned on the lamp.

The light came on.

Nothing else happened.

Liam watched for several seconds.

“I’m trying to decide whether that’s exciting.”

“Wait until we have something to compare.”

She wrote down the first reading, checked the connection, and started the timer. Liam used Material Analysis on the accessible components, looking for damage or a condition the ordinary inspection might have missed. The skill didn’t tell him how many hours the cell would last. It didn’t turn a single reading into an explanation of how the thing had been made either. He gave Alexandra the useful observations and kept the guesses to himself.

They had been watching the test for several minutes when the screwdriver moved.

It lifted from beside Liam’s bag and crossed toward the bench, turning slowly as though inspecting the unfamiliar arrangement. Alexandra noticed the motion immediately. Her pen stopped halfway through a number, and Liam reached for the tool through their connection before it came near the wires.

‘Back.’

It stopped.

Then it moved toward a screw in the edge of the lamp’s mounting bracket.

‘I said back.’

The screwdriver jerked away, crossed the short distance to him, and settled beside his hand. Liam frowned. He hadn’t told it to do anything near the lamp. The thought of tightening the bracket had passed through his head while Alexandra was checking it, but he hadn’t meant that as an instruction.

Alexandra turned off the test.

“What happened?”

“It thought I wanted help.”

“Did you?”

“Not yet.”

She looked at the tool, then at the setup.

“Then it stays away while this is connected.”

Liam nodded and moved his chair back from the bench. There was no point defending it. A tool that decided which passing thought to act on could be useful while he was holding a loose screw and a problem everywhere else. He had been pleased when it began responding more independently. Apparently, he hadn’t spent enough time deciding what independence should look like.

‘Red. Can it distinguish an instruction from me thinking about something?’

A panel appeared.

[The connection carries intent. An immature consciousness may misinterpret incomplete intent.]

Liam read it once, then looked at the screwdriver.

‘So I need to be clearer.’

[Consistent instruction improves recognition.]

Another panel opened beneath it.

[Side Mission: Teach the Sentient Omni Emerald Screwdriver to wait, approach, and return without direct movement control.]

[Reward: Basic Tool Coordination.]

Liam stared at the reward.

‘You watched it nearly interfere with a test and decided this was a good time to give me homework.’

The panel remained.

He dismissed it and asked Alexandra for an empty tray. She handed him one after checking that it wasn’t going anywhere near the equipment, then restarted her test. Liam placed the tray on the floor beside his chair and let the screwdriver hover above it. Moving it himself would have been easy. That was how he had handled it before its own responses became noticeable. This time, he loosened his control and concentrated on a single instruction.

‘Wait.’

The tool descended into the tray.

“Close enough,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Keep going.”

He tried again. On the second attempt, it remained in the air until he thought about bringing it closer, then immediately approached. He hadn’t actually given the next instruction yet. Liam stopped, rested his good hand on his knee, and reconsidered what he was doing. The tool wasn’t listening to words alone. It was responding to the expectation behind them, including the expectation he formed while planning the next part.

‘All right. That one was mine.’

He used Focus to hold the intended action clearly, without pulling the screwdriver into position. Wait meant remain where it was. Approach meant come to his open hand. Return meant settle in the tray. There was no attack to anticipate, no screw to find, and no reason to move faster because he was growing impatient.

The first complete sequence took longer than he wanted.

The second failed when Alexandra asked him a question.

On the third, the screwdriver returned to the tray and stayed there while he turned toward the bench.

Alexandra was watching him.

“What?”

“You stopped correcting it every second.”

“Apparently, I was being confusing.”

“I wasn’t going to say it.”

“You looked ready.”

She smiled and returned to the meter. Liam looked down at the tool. It remained still, waiting, even when his attention drifted toward the bracket again. He felt a small, unexpected satisfaction at that. The screwdriver had done something simple because it understood what he wanted, rather than because he had dragged it through the motion.

No completion panel appeared.

One successful attempt wasn’t enough.

He left it waiting while Alexandra finished the next set of readings. When she disconnected the cell, she placed the notebook between them and pointed at the figures. The test had given them a repeatable starting point. It hadn’t established the cell’s full capacity, and she had left that section empty.

“Tomorrow, I want to repeat it longer.”

“Same setup?”

“Same setup. If we change everything, we won’t know which part mattered.”

Liam nodded, then watched her reach for the mounting bracket. One screw still needed tightening before she put the equipment away. The screwdriver shifted inside the tray but didn’t rise.

He looked at Alexandra.

“Do you want help with that?”

She glanced from him to the tool.

“With that screw. Nothing else.”

Liam gave the instruction carefully.

The screwdriver rose, crossed to the bracket, and settled into place. Alexandra held the assembly steady while it turned. When she said enough, Liam passed the stop through their connection. The tool withdrew and returned to the tray.

Alexandra checked the bracket, then looked at him.

“That was useful.”

Liam smiled.

For once, he had something worth writing down beside the reward.