MINDLYFT (COMPLETE)

CHAPTER 13

I followed Jimmy back through the melting crumble of Gutterville, trying to keep up with his short legs and small feet, which seemed to scurry as fast as a mouse one moment, and then slow into a steady confident stride the next. He took me on a different route than what I was familiar with, forcing me to crouch down to fit through small doors or rather holes in the walls, and sometimes crawl through small tunnels.

"You seem to know your way around here pretty well," I said. "For a kid." I added that last part to see if I could rouse him a little. Some sisterly teasing.

"I know the shortest and most accessible path all over Gutterville as well as the opportune times to traverse each path based on bearable temperatures throughout the day," he said.

"Opportune. Big word for such a small person," I quipped. Still no reaction from him, he just stopped and looked at me stoically.

"Father insists I read a lot," he said after a long pause.

"I never see you reading," I said as he turned and continued to lead the way. "I never see you do anything except follow Dad around all day and occasionally run to get him something. I don't even know how you learned your way around Gutterville. This is the first time I've seen you outside."

"I'm not one of your clones," he called back over his left shoulder. "You don't see everything I do."

"Touche," I said. Definitely not the typical five or six year old. Not that I had anything to compare him with. I rarely saw small children much less conversed with them. Only about 5% of my SocNet followers had kids and from them all I saw were pictures and complaints.

We walked for another fifteen minutes in silence until I thought of something else to say. Or rather ask. "Since you're such a smart kid and spend so much time with Dad, then maybe you can help answer something for me."

"Maybe," he said, sounding like a little kid for the first time.

"Does Dad ever open up to you?"

"Open up about what?" He asked, still talking to me over his shoulder, leading the way like a little troll-guide through a haunted forest.

"Well, for starters, does he make eye contact with you? I mean for more than two seconds."

"Father is autistic as you may have guessed," he said. "His social norms aren't the same as most people. If there's something on his mind then he's likely to tell you."

"Has he ever told you he loves you?" I asked.

"He tells me in his own way," said Jimmy. "He doesn't say it in English with words."

"Oh really? How does he say it?"

"For example, when I don't understand something he's explaining. Something technical. He looks at me in a certain way. I can see that he's frustrated but he tries to hide it. Then he stops whatever work he's doing and leads me over to the whiteboard or the SphereSplay and helps me to understand with visuals or analogies or metaphors."

"Guessing vocabulary isn't one of the things you need help with," I said.

"He's patient," Jimmy continued thoughtfully. "When someone's patient with you then they love you."

Jimmy led me next through a small wall of broken blocks. It was like climbing a wall of boulders and I had to use my hands to stable my balance and climb up through the crevices. Because of my hiking and occasional rock scrambling I was fairly skilled at it but Jimmy was exceptional. Maybe because of his smaller size or the fearlessness of childhood, I don't know, but it was like trying to follow a spider.