Third Test

I won’t fail I won’t fail I won’t fail I won’t fail-

If I kept repeating this phrase over and over again in my head, then perhaps it would come true. I didn’t have any other ideas. I sat down, unready and unsure, at the desk upon which I would receive my test. I glanced over at Gika. She was my polar opposite, calm and confident in her abilities.

“Begin!” I heard, echoing through the chamber. I looked at the first question, the first equation, and it looked back, taunting me. I began to panic, my breaths shallow and quick, the world now swirling around me.

A gentle cough pulled me back to reality. I slowly turned my eyes towards the source of the sound: Gika. She held her pencil in her hand and tapped it on the table, thrice, with an almost theatrically exaggerated look of being in deep thought, then held it against her head for another moment before tapping the table once more. As subtle as she could, she looked back at me with an intense stare. I made eye-contact. Three taps, a pause, then another tap. What did it mean?

Binary. 11101 was the number twenty-nine in binary. I re-examined the question. It seemed like a plausible answer.

Tap tap, silence, tap tap, silence, tap. 1101101. One-hundred and nine in binary. Once again, the solution seemed logical. It was slow, especially since we had to leave gaps to avoid suspicion, but question by question, Gika led me through the test. When we finally reached the end, I felt a strangely familiar shot of adrenaline running through my system. It felt just like when I’d run away from my father, exhilarating like nothing else. As I walked out of the examination chambers and joined Gika, she smiled at me and said:

“Sakagire khasu!”

“What does that mean?” I asked

She shrugged. I laughed. There was nothing particularly funny, it just felt correct. It was only as we approached Paolo’s studio that the excited mood began to shift.The test had provided only temporary distraction from this morning’s ordeal. When we saw the small platoon of ornithopters filled with the mechanical parts that made up Gika’s computer in front of Paolo’s studio, reality returned once more. My mother stood between the large devices ordering a number of broad, muscled individuals around. She noticed us, or rather Gika, and walked up to her.

“Not quite the elegant device of your painting,” she said, ‘and it was somewhat difficult to figure out how we could operate it, let alone how it worked, but in the end we managed to verify that it worked the way you described, as a machine that can perform mathematics. I am pleasantly surprised with what you managed to pull off with what must be frustratingly low standards of technology for you.“

Did my mother know?

“Pauro.” Gika said, her voice uncharacteristically commanding.

“Oh yes, Paolo,” my mother said, “the geezer is in bed. His condition is very bad. He will not live much longer, I believe.

I was shocked, unable to process the words that had just come out of my mothers mouth. Gika rushed inside, pulling me with her, allowing me to return to my senses. We made our way through the front door, then the living room, then the studio, until finally we went up a flight of stairs where the bedrooms were situated. There, we found the old man, his eyes half-closed, laying in bed.

“Paolo!” I said, my voice colored by a mix of excitement and terror, “It’s good to see you back here! How are you-”

“Shut yer trap!” He interrupted, though much slower and more lethargic than usual, “I don’t have much time left, but I’ve got somethin’ important to tell y’all, so listen closely ‘cause I ain’t gonna be able to repeat it again.”

Gika and I both nodded silently.

“Good,” he continued,“so, when I was a young man, I had an absolutely fantastic life. I was a real paintin’ prodigy, y’know? People paid me well for my paintings, I had someone I had my eyes on, it was all good, great even. The stuff of fairy tales. Perfection. Yet there was somethin’ gnawin’ at me, somethin’ that just didn’t feel right. And so, after a scarily little amount of thinkin’, I decided that my art wasn’t pure, that to fill myself I’d have to make a masterpiece in isolation, not for anyone else, just for the beauty of art itself. And so I bought a nice place, a whole bunch of paintin’ supplies, and the largest canvas I could find, as well as a few smaller ones. I promised myself that I wouldn’t re-enter society until I’d finished my masterpiece, and so I did. But as I locked myself in my home, the will to paint just wouldn’t come. I thought it was something temporary, so I waited it out, only goin’ out each day to eat ‘n drink, and then from dusk ‘till dawn sit in a room filled with empty canvases, strugglin’ to paint even a single stroke. My family came to retrieve me. I refused. My love said it was enough, that I’d tried my best and that it was fine it hadn’t worked out. I rejected him. Both my family and my love are dead now, and until very recently, I hadn’t managed to paint anythin’. I spend most of my life here, doin’ nothin’. It was only a few months ago, Gavino, when ya came in all wet from the rain to dirty up the place, that I started paintin’ again. Then later, Gika entered my home in a similar fashion, so I guess the clouds just really like pushin’ y’all into my life. Anyways, with her around, the amount of time I spent paintin’ grew even more. I didn’t understand why for the longest time. But I get it now. A paintin’ is a phrase, yer expressin’ somethin’ ‘bout yerself. Paintin’ for yerself is like talkin’ to a wall, it’s just sad. It was only when the two of ya came into my life that I finally had someone to talk to again. Make art for other people, for eachother if ya have to.”

He coughed.

“Also,” he said, ”the big canvas I bought. The one I’d paint my masterpiece on. It’s in the cellar, and it’s still empty. When ya’ll are ready, make it somethin’ beautiful. Together. That’s my dyin’ wish.”

“No, you aren’t going to-” I began to say.

“Oh, shutup!” Paolo said, almost whispering, “I don’t wanna hear yer annoyin’ voice when I leave this world. Be quiet.”

And so we sat in silence.

Not much later, Paolo died.