The Source: Observer Chronicles, Book 3

Chapter 8: Eve

Darryl looked after Eve as the others aided the soldiers, they had come that day and could both hear their heavy feet from above as they wandered around the barn, them sounding restless from their movement.

"Eve?" called Darryl into the next room, sounding as if he was about to ask something of her.

"Yeah, what is it?" she said, running to him. The little patter of bare feet had made the wooden floorboards move. She peeped her head around the hole, the doorway for now.

"I remember hearing your mum talking about you one time. Well in her sleep, anyway. She said something about savant syndrome. And autism . . . What are they?" asked the water-wielder. She responded with a baffled look, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders.

"I don't know what savant syndrome is, but I do know what autism is." Darryl nodded as he paid attention to the eight-year-old, "autism is something to do with the way people behave. Mum told me it's about not understanding things the way most people do, though she says it has its gifts too. Not quite sure what she meant by that. Haven't heard her mention that other thing. I do know that people observed me every day. Wasn't sure why. Mum told me they were helping. She didn't say exactly how or why. They wrote a lot of things down." Darryl looked worried.

"Maybe I'll ask your mum when she isn't so busy," he said, "also, I have not heard you talk of any friends before. Is it because you are afraid they are gone now?

"No, I don't really have friends. At least not my age. I feel awkward and out of place, and those at school were quite rude and nasty to me because I don't understand societal rules and the right way to behave, apparently. I've had more upsetting times around people my age than I care to mention. I'm happy with my own company and just my mum. I have to tolerate them."

Brenda grabbed some more wine for the soldiers. Then, she checked on the bread baking, "still not ready." She looked at the machine going on a heavy wash. "I'm so grateful the washing machine was always down here. I don't know how I'd live without it."

"Brenda, what is Savant Syndrome?" said Darryl, " and I don't know why you people care so much about machines. It just sounds like an annoying noise most of the time to me."

"Oh, that." replied the woman, ignoring the last part.

Eve waited for her motherʼs reply, the same as Darryl.

"You have to understand this is a very rare thing," replied Brenda, "there's only approximately twenty-five existing on the world right now which is known." She lowered the two bottles onto the floor and went for more wine. "Savant syndrome, or plain savants as they call themselves, I never understood why they categorised it as a syndrome, the individuals have such an acute ability in certain areas, marking them ahead of all other non-savant people with their own thing." Another two bottles, added to the others on the floor. Her hands went for even more on the large wine rack built into the wall.

"My baby is one of them. It's funny because of the negative part, her autism, it's what has caused her brilliance. Without it, she would never have been able to be who she is today. They are also known as twice exceptional children."

"So she . . . sorry go ahead," said Darryl interrupting, thinking Brenda had finished.

"No, go on," said Brenda. Eve listened next to her mother on the settee bed that was the one she and her mother slept in, Darryl was sitting at the other end of it, comfortable, his legs crossed on the folded out mattress with no boots on.

"She excels in what is said to be an eidetic memory, which scientists didn't truly believe humans could even have until her case, at least not to the extent she has it. Eve can memorise anything, and I've challenged this. Paintings, drawings, down to the most minute detail. She has been able to copy it all identically. She can remember entire articles, stories and novels, word by word she has told me the entire contents back. She is gifted, that much is certain, but I don't want people to hurt her because of her societal misunderstanding," Brenda stopped and moved over to her daughter, making this quite clear as she stroked Eve's hair.

She left them, picking up the six bottles of wine she managed to carry with ease. When she left, Darryl opened the hatch door for her and closed it. All that was left was Darryl and Eve again. They both turned and looked at each other.

"Time for bed little one," said Darryl, feeling as if he was patronising her.

She twisted her face, "do I have to?"