#WritingWonders 4.4 — Interview question #5
"If you could teach one subject what would it be?" Cliftown asked. With a hopeful expression. Many of my answers so far had been traumatic for us both.
I smiled, relieved. Rainy Days wanted to trip me up with her questions, but I wasn't against people seeing the real me. I was evil because of circumstance made me want to act, not because I was somehow intrinsically that way. To the extent people understood and predicted what I would do, I could do the same for them. The people I need to work with would become less of a cypher.
"My first thought is I'd teach fighting, possibly athletics in general, but that's really training not teaching. I've coached teams of people before.
"My second thought is—" I chuckled. "Some people think I'm a higher-level thaumaturge than Rainy Days. In a few specifics, combined with fighting, barely so. She's more experienced, and there's much I don't know. Consider that I tried to help a friend for weeks who got stuck. I even bought a psych book to figure it out. Then I reconciled her with another student. The nerd solved the problem in minutes, and I still don't understand how. Teach Thaumaturgy? That'd fail."
I waved a hand toward a winged-shadow in the darkness beyond the lens. "Bolt. My bag."
The armored woman flew over. Her wonderous armor resembled parts of a human skeleton for a good reason, and it glowed red because she could make it do that (it was only for show). She was evil that way. Bolt momentarily grabbed all the attention as I pulled out the book I had carried with me from the day I'd run away from home.
I held the small leatherback tome by opposite corners. I said, "What I'm really good at is reading books. These days, with thau-holography, it's a lost art."
I ran my hand across the age-hardened cover, feeling the few cracks. I sniffed and loudly inhaled the library scent of the pages. "You can tell a lot from the outside, like how well liked it is by the wear... and the tooth marks." I grinned as I pointed where I must have nibbled in my sleep. "That it's so old, 500 years in this case, and carefully conserved tells you to expect good stuff."
Opening it, I pointed out the yellow color and uneven condition of the pages, then added, "Look, there's multiple forwards penned by generations of students and publishers. The table of contents looks well organized; just studying it actually gives you an idea of what you can study within. The index, I can vouch for, is designed to help you need only essential bookmarks."
I opened the book flat and displayed it, holding it splayed in one hand beside me for the lens.
Cliftown gasped. "You've written all over it? In multiple colors, too. Did you cross out original text!?"
"I did! Rarely, it's flat wrong. I own this text." I tapped my head. "I still refer to it almost daily. I can— No, I want to teach how to do this, and why you'd want to."
I snapped the book closed and placed it on my lap.
Cliftown said, "I get the idea that you love books more than people."
"Yeah. Maybe. I've just learned I can love people in the last two weeks. It still astounds me that both humans and books can provide you joy if you let them."
[Author retains copyright]
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