6

Proctor asked Constance if she would ask Pendergast if he would care for some breakfast. She carried tea downstairs inside a special Chinese cup with a lid on it. When she knocked at the door, it swung open silently. Her benefactor smiled weakly her way, the teen seated in a swivel chair beside him wearing one of his robes. "I've brought you tea."

"You are an angel," he told her, accepting the small tray from her.

"Proctor has prepared breakfast."

"Proctor? Well, he does have a way with an omelet, doesn't he? I shall ascend shortly."

As she prepared to leave, she noticed the teenager's red shirt, black jeans, and suede boots stacked neatly on the edge of the examination table. "Shall I have these cleaned?"

"I haven't finished with them," Pendergast said, waving at her dismissively.

Cocking her head and performing a slight curtsey despite the fact he had already turned away from her, Constance straightened and silently departed the lab.

In the dining room, a little outdoor light was allowed to warm the room through a filter of gauzy curtain liners. The trio sat at the table while the chauffer served them. Little crystal bowls of assorted additions and condiments surrounded a large, fading, dusky lavender colored rose that drooped from a crystal vase. Constance received a small egg-white omelet enfolding a few lightly cooked vegetables with a smear of melted Brie. To Pendergast he served a larger omelet wrapped about asparagus spears, with minced garlic, bacon, and mushrooms, sporting a decorative sprinkle of fish roe along the top. For their guest he presented a two-egg omelet filled with diced bacon and a mild cheddar. Pendergast waited for the man to depart before forking an end of his meal and lifting it for inspection underneath. "I see he still favors the southern French means of preparation."

Constance smiled primly, sampling her eggs before seasoning them lightly and helping herself to a dry toast point.

"Caviar, really?" The pale man took some of his tea and decided to taste the presentation.

Constance glanced toward the girl's empty plate. The silverware beside it appeared spotless, the napkin unused, the plate itself lacking any signs it had been used at all. Disturbed, she watched the girl as she took dainty bites. "You were up all night?"

"I suppose I was. I administered several different IQ tests, and she scores…within the severe to profound range."

"You mean…cognitive impairment?"

"It's difficult to diagnose accurately on one's own. She cannot read, she cannot write, and the simplest mathematical problems are impossible for her. Yet…I spoke to her with a sample of every language I know even a smattering of, and she responded to everything I said correctly as if she was familiar with them all."

"Is she…oh, what do they call them now? A savant?"

"I have never heard of a savant exhibiting superhuman speed, strength, and fighting ability. If anything, she should be slow to move and to recognize and react to immediate threats."

Constance finished her toast and dabbed tiny crumbs from her lower lip. She took a sip of her own tea, then asked, "But if she is programmed for specific tasks…."

"I am unable to prove that she is not flesh, though what flesh she may be is unknown to myself and the Internet. If she is some marvel of genetic engineering, then she has either been damaged, or was never designed to function on her own."

"Then, you suggest she works with a partner or as part of a team?"

"Perhaps." He worked another bit of egg free and ate it. "The flavor of the caviar is masked by the crispy, browned bottom of the omelet…save for the saltiness it imparts." He turned to look at Amanda. "How is…oh, I see. It must have been delicious." He looked back at his ward as she set her fork down atop her empty plate. "I attempted conversation with her, and she perked up at the mention of astronomy."

"Quasar," Constance murmured.

"I had assumed that a project name. She didn't have much knowledge of the subject, but she grew excited when I began to talk about the space program and the Mars Rover expedition."

"Perhaps it's just a fascination."

"Perhaps," he said again.

Finally, she felt emboldened enough to ask, "And what did you learn from her attire?"

"Ah. There is nothing like it anywhere online. No labels, no hemming, no seams…. Even her footwear seemed fashioned from single pieces of…a leather-like substance."

"And did you take upon yourself the opportunity to…examine her further?"

Completing his meal, the agent wiped his hands with his napkin and smiled. "I could not possibly imagine how anything else about her anatomy should suddenly shed light upon this mystery."

The woman smiled, mentioning, "Unless you were to locate her batteries or an off switch."

He chuckled lightly. "If only I had a magnetic resonating imager…."

"Put it on your Christmas list," the woman joked. She turned in her chair to see if Proctor was visible down the hallway. "I can clear these. You are finished, aren't you? Aloysius?"

He sat upright, but his head had lolled forward, his lips slack. As she pondered him with mild alarm, he issued a rough inhalation that might have been a snore had he been lying down. Constance touched his shoulder, shook it slightly. "Aloysius?"

"Hmm? Yes?" He looked toward Amanda and smiled beatifically, his eyes nearly closed again already.

"You need to sleep."

"Not at all. I'm fine! I can go days…."

She shook him again.

"Hmm? What?"

"Go to bed."

"What?"

"You've drifted off twice just sitting here. You need to get some sleep."

He protested, "I shall be fine. I've gone days without sleep before."

"Please," she urged, smiling gently. "I'd hate to ask Proctor to carry you."

"Carry me? Absurd! I shall retire to the sitting room and-"

"Go to bed, Aloysius. Clear your mind, meditate. Perhaps you can determine her origin that way."

He stared at the teen, who only looked back at him blandly. "Well, I don't need sleep… I'm barely tired at all...but I have learned things by-"

"Bed," Constance said in his ear, then patted his shoulder and left with his plate in her hands.

His brow furrowed. "Did I snore?"

Amanda blinked at him. "Little."

"I was not sleeping." He punctuated this announcement with a grand yawn. "Oh…fine. I'll lie down for a few minutes. Will you assist Constance, Amanda? Do as she says? Until you see me again?"

The girl nodded and rose slowly, watching Proctor reappear with a plate of sliced fresh fruits.

"I'm finished," Pendergast told him. "Your efforts are commendable. I will be lying down for…twenty minutes or so. Make certain I do not oversleep."

"Yes, sir."

"And keep your eye on her," he said, getting up and stretching. "Don't let her elude you."

The chauffer watched the girl watch his employer leave the room. "As simple as herding eels," he said softly. Amanda turned to look at him. "Electric eels," he added.

After the dishes and foodstuffs had been cleared away, Constance took Amanda by the hand and led her beneath the house. "Were you born this way?" she asked.

"This way?"

"As you are…with your reflexes, your silent means of perambulation, your difficulty in putting your thoughts into speech."

"Have I always been this way?"

The woman nodded. "If that is the easier question to answer, then do so."

The girl was quiet for some time as they descended into darker, quieter places. "I…don't know."

"You don't recall?"

"I…have dreams," she said slowly, keeping pace with the older woman. "I remember things…bits and pieces…not sure what's real."

And Constance thought that indeed, with Amanda, it was sometimes difficult to ascertain what was actually real. She led her through the darkness, knowing the way by rote, a part of her wishing to frighten the girl a little, to expose some weakness. "Never enter here," she said. "Everything within this room is poisoned. Some of the poisons have only increased in potency with age."

The girl asked, "Like you?"

Constance didn't care for what she'd just heard. "What do you imply?"

"Importancy with age?"

"Importancy is not a word," she said, realizing she had misinterpreted the remark.

"Have you lived here…forever?"

"It seems so at times," she replied. "Can you see well enough? I don't need you tripping over anything in the dark."

"Not so dark," the girl replied, and the woman thought this remark was rather ridiculous. Aloysius had told her of caves he had been in, deep within the womb of the earth where the inner world has its own climate and truly seems like an alien place compared to what humans are accustomed to. There had been moments when he had been utterly without light and he'd explained how the darkness of a cave was unlike any other sense of black, of complete and total deprivation of any form of illumination whatsoever. While the warren of chambers and corridors beneath the mansion were certainly very near cave-like, the woman knew that motionless, she would eventually be able to make out dark shapes against the darkness, though how much she was actually detecting with her eyes and how much she was putting into its proper place through her memories, she did not know. Darker than dark, he had told her. "Even space has some light."

"I shall try and find some fresh clothing for you." She entered a door and turned on the light. The room was small, but seemed larger due to the minimal furnishings. It was the safe room Pendergast had brought his son Tristram to after bringing him to the mansion. The bed had been made afresh and there was a flashlight beside it. "Will you be comfortable here?"

Amanda stepped within the room and gazed at its bleak walls, the rug that did little to perk up the concrete floor. "Okay," she said agreeably.

Constance had expected a different response, but if it truly was good enough for the girl, then why bother with anything better? "You must be exhausted after staying up all night being poked and prodded and barraged with questions."

"Okay," the girl said again, giving a little shrug. She headed for the bed, doffing the robe as she neared it. It hit the floor and she crawled pale, frail, and cold between the chilly sheets, drawing the thin yet adequate blankets up to her shoulders.

Her lack of modesty had caught the other woman by surprise. She cleared her throat and mentioned, "There is a restroom down here…have you…Amanda…have you used the restroom yet?"

"For what?"

"For…any purpose whatsoever?"

She wrinkled her brow. "No."

"Do you require…a carafe of water perhaps, or…would you care for some stewed prunes before you go to sleep?"

"'mokay."

"You need to learn to speak clearly. You need not speak loudly, but if you would practice comp-lete sentences and learn to project a little…. Well, perhaps there may be time for that later."

"'night," said the girl, closing her eyes.

"Are you warm enough?"

"'mokay."

"There is a flashlight beside the bed. Please call to us before you attempt to return upstairs alone. I would hate for you to wander into an area full of…surprises."

"'night," the girl repeated, rolling onto her side so that her back was to the door.

"Good night, then," Constance said, hitting the lights and closing the door quietly, then standing outside of it for some time. Eventually, she decided to go with her initial idea and locked the door before departing.