architect in confusion.
“It’s a logic puzzle,” she explained, her eyes flicking back to her clipboard. “You twist it and try to get all the patterns to line up.”
I looked back down at the sphere. It was clearly magical, though I couldn’t see why—it seemed to be a mechanical puzzle. It was made up of tiny copper panels inlaid with glass, each etched with different designs meant to line up with their neighbors. Each panel was slightly concave, fitting my fingertips exactly.
I gave it an experimental twist and was rewarded with the low, quiet hum of some mechanism within the object. Strategy was not my strong point, but my future possibly hinged on completing the puzzle. I saw a few panels that would line up easily, and twisted the ball until they did. The glass lit up with a discordant hum that set my teeth on edge.
The architect didn’t seem to notice. I kept at it, working the puzzle until I had a few more adjacent panels lit and humming. I found myself becoming engrossed in how each new panel required longer patterns of twists to line up without disrupting those I’d already put in place.
It wasn’t until I had half the sphere glowing that I looked up again—to find the architect staring at me. Her clipboard was in her lap, and her face suddenly looked even younger than mine: round eyes, parted lips.
My windpipe closed. What if this device detected whether I’d used magic before?
She cleared her throat when she saw me looking and summoned a labored smile.“I’m just going to run to the restroom,” she said, getting to her feet with a metallic scrape of the chair legs beneath her. “You just—just carry on.” Her eyes flicked down to the puzzle and back to mine, and then she backed out of the room.
I sat rooted to my chair, still holding the magic sphere. My whole body tingled with that magical buzz, which grew stronger every moment. I put the puzzle on the floor, hoping that would help, but not only did the panels on it stay lit, but my skin prickled more.
My jaw clenched so tightly that I felt it pop. I tried to look unconcerned—who knew what methods they had of spying on me? I nudged the puzzle with my toe, sending it rolling across the floor. Even distance brought no relief.
After an eternity the door opened. A plump red form bustled inside, wearing a wide, toothy smile. “Hello, hello, gosling!” said Administrator Gloriette. Her tendency to refer to me as various types of birds—all extinct now—gave me visions of how people used to eat them and use their bones to make soup. Gloriette’s smile made me think she might be imagining what kind of soup my bones would make.
She continued, “I’m hearing some exciting things about you!”
Exciting things? My vocal cords felt frozen, but I was saved from trying to force something out by the Administrator herself.
“Are you enjoying yourself so far, here at the Institute?” I nodded, still not able to speak.
Gloriette beamed her wide-lipped smile at me. “How perfectly fabulous,” she cooed. “We so rarely see someone of your potential come through here, you know. You could be anything you wanted to be. Maybe even an architect’s assistant! Would you like that?”
My head spun. Maybe this was a mind game—to throw me off-guard and convince me to blurt out the truth. With a huge effort I found my voice again. “Thank you, ma’am, but I’m more interested in history.”
Gloriette’s smile faded to something a little less brilliant. Apparently, this wasn’t the response she expected. “Well, aren’t you sweet? I think you would make a perfect historian. Of course, we’ll have to keep you here for a few days so that we can run a few more tests. A historian is such a rare thing that we need to make absolutely certain, of course.”
I found myself nodding, although my mind still roiled. I was certain that being kept behind meant something terrible, and yet Gloriette was smiling and telling me I was gifted, that I could
“It’s a logic puzzle,” she explained, her eyes flicking back to her clipboard. “You twist it and try to get all the patterns to line up.”
I looked back down at the sphere. It was clearly magical, though I couldn’t see why—it seemed to be a mechanical puzzle. It was made up of tiny copper panels inlaid with glass, each etched with different designs meant to line up with their neighbors. Each panel was slightly concave, fitting my fingertips exactly.
I gave it an experimental twist and was rewarded with the low, quiet hum of some mechanism within the object. Strategy was not my strong point, but my future possibly hinged on completing the puzzle. I saw a few panels that would line up easily, and twisted the ball until they did. The glass lit up with a discordant hum that set my teeth on edge.
The architect didn’t seem to notice. I kept at it, working the puzzle until I had a few more adjacent panels lit and humming. I found myself becoming engrossed in how each new panel required longer patterns of twists to line up without disrupting those I’d already put in place.
It wasn’t until I had half the sphere glowing that I looked up again—to find the architect staring at me. Her clipboard was in her lap, and her face suddenly looked even younger than mine: round eyes, parted lips.
My windpipe closed. What if this device detected whether I’d used magic before?
She cleared her throat when she saw me looking and summoned a labored smile.“I’m just going to run to the restroom,” she said, getting to her feet with a metallic scrape of the chair legs beneath her. “You just—just carry on.” Her eyes flicked down to the puzzle and back to mine, and then she backed out of the room.
I sat rooted to my chair, still holding the magic sphere. My whole body tingled with that magical buzz, which grew stronger every moment. I put the puzzle on the floor, hoping that would help, but not only did the panels on it stay lit, but my skin prickled more.
My jaw clenched so tightly that I felt it pop. I tried to look unconcerned—who knew what methods they had of spying on me? I nudged the puzzle with my toe, sending it rolling across the floor. Even distance brought no relief.
After an eternity the door opened. A plump red form bustled inside, wearing a wide, toothy smile. “Hello, hello, gosling!” said Administrator Gloriette. Her tendency to refer to me as various types of birds—all extinct now—gave me visions of how people used to eat them and use their bones to make soup. Gloriette’s smile made me think she might be imagining what kind of soup my bones would make.
She continued, “I’m hearing some exciting things about you!”
Exciting things? My vocal cords felt frozen, but I was saved from trying to force something out by the Administrator herself.
“Are you enjoying yourself so far, here at the Institute?” I nodded, still not able to speak.
Gloriette beamed her wide-lipped smile at me. “How perfectly fabulous,” she cooed. “We so rarely see someone of your potential come through here, you know. You could be anything you wanted to be. Maybe even an architect’s assistant! Would you like that?”
My head spun. Maybe this was a mind game—to throw me off-guard and convince me to blurt out the truth. With a huge effort I found my voice again. “Thank you, ma’am, but I’m more interested in history.”
Gloriette’s smile faded to something a little less brilliant. Apparently, this wasn’t the response she expected. “Well, aren’t you sweet? I think you would make a perfect historian. Of course, we’ll have to keep you here for a few days so that we can run a few more tests. A historian is such a rare thing that we need to make absolutely certain, of course.”
I found myself nodding, although my mind still roiled. I was certain that being kept behind meant something terrible, and yet Gloriette was smiling and telling me I was gifted, that I could
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