Maniai Case File 1: The Girl And The Blood Slide

Chapter 7

Neighbour's Report #2

I never believed all the rumours of course.

Tina and Vangelis were the perfect couple. Perfect parents.

It's why I came from the big city you know, to live out here. With people like that. We are actually neighbours around here, with the full meaning of the word. Back at Athens, Kallithea, were I used to live we didn't even know who our neighbours were. After a couple of years and random encounters you got to know the faces eventually, but not like here.

I got greeted to an impromptu gathering the day I moved in. I met everyone, and I mean everyone. They were all like, meet my uncle the fireman, and my cousin the tailor, and my son-in-law the baker, and my godson Yanni who is lazy and still lives with his mom. And you have to eat this, and taste this, and drink my red whine, it's the best in Northern Greece!

It was culture shock for me.

The wine helped.

Working for a corporation is soul-sucking. Quitting that job is like getting your soul back.

I remember getting anxious for things that seem ridiculous now. Is he going to misinterpret my email? Are the quarter's goals met? Are we ready for the annual review? Is the share up or down?

My doctor said I was going to die two years ago. They got me scans, they took litres of blood, they did tests and more tests. I must have seen about eleven different heart doctors, four of them abroad. All paid for by Hephaistos of course. I was too important to them.

I mean, we were building everything. I used to joke that I put the heavy in "Heavy Industries." Cars, ships, planes, buildings, cranes, dams, generators, pipes, we made anything. CAD was my thing. Designing stuff in 3D, so they could get fabricated. Simulate stresses, swap out materials, projected corrosion, wear and tear, steganopoiisis. They made me project manager, and kept telling me to delegate, but I just liked making stuff. I didn't want to pore over stats and spreadsheets all day. I wanted to research, design, test, optimise, send it for manufacture and then kick the damn thing to see if it was tough enough.

I was on a strict diet, a good workout schedule. It didn't matter, my heart was failing.

I was on a routine business trip, when I saw a cardiologist's sign. It wasn't one of those fancy doctors. He was old. His doctor's office was pathetic. He didn't care, he was close to pension. Or death.

I'm not sure why I knocked. I was sick of doctors at that point, and I'd been across the Atlantic to meet the best ones. What did this guy have to tell me that the others didn't?

I knocked. He greeted me. I told him about my case, showed him my test results and gammagraphy (I always hate that word. The Greek one is more awesome. Sparkography. Sparkagraphy? Anyway, sparks and photographs).

He put on his glasses and read it for a while. I was huffing and puffing, already regretting my impulse decision to visit a random country doctor.

Then he asked me what I did for a living (Manufacture). Where I lived (Crowded Apartment Building), how my life was (Shit). If I had children (No time).

Was I happy?

Was I?

(No).

He "prescribed" me to go live in the countryside and drink a single glass of red wine every day.

I laughed, paid and got out.

When the quarter ended and had two mild heart attacks at the age of 32, I quit my job and came here.

It's ironic really. I quit Hephaistos and became a blacksmith.

Now I build or fix people's fences, rooftops, tractors. Granted, they end up able to withstand a hurricane or made from metasteel when a single wooden beam would suffice, but I can't help myself. Half of them have no idea what I do and how I make them, but they are always grateful. Seeing people's smiles first-hand when you fix something for them is the best feeling in the world.

So no, I don't believe the gossip. I know these people. The psychologist is trained to see illnesses, much like a surveyor is trained to see cracks. He was wrong this time. The girl was not abused. She was intelligent, studied hard and with an interest in science. Her parents are average people, but they loved her. They would have mended their marriage eventually if Emma didn't die that soon. Now it's beyond repair.

Yes, I noticed the girl's experiments. Someone gossipped about it though, then I noticed. She had cuts in her arms all the time, yes. With colourful band-aids on them. The parents kept saying she was clumsy with her microscope kit they bought her. All those sharp edges.

They were initially happy of course for their little girl's interest in biology. What parent wouldn't be? It's a perpetual cliche in Greek households, everyone wants their kid to become a doctor or a lawyer.

Well, they sure aren't happy now.