Having someone else living in my home feels really, really weird. I’d gotten used to this house feeling like some giant, empty cavern; now it feels like the cavern has been filled. I wake up each morning, and instead of the grey silence I’m used to, all the lights are on and I-330’s busy making breakfast (seriously, she’s always awake before me; I’m starting to wonder if she sleeps.)
Can’t really say just what it is she does with her days; sometimes she’ll lounge around the house, reading books from my stacks, other times she’ll put on a suit and her coat, then walk out the door and not come back until after sunset.
Occasionally I’ve talked to her with the intention of asking the big questions I’ve had (what’s with those posts she made on my blog earlier? What really happened the night we met? Why does she need my house?), but I always get tongue tied, and can never figure out what I’m supposed to say….
I somehow managed to ask a few smaller questions, but none got very detailed answers from her….
-What’s her real name?
I-330. Whenever I tried pressing the question, she kept insisting on I-330. When I asked what name she was given at birth, she started ranting about the injustice of people getting no say in what they would be called for the rest of their life and that the entire system of conventional naming should be thrown out entirely…. Sounded a bit like a sore subject, so I dropped the question quickly.
-What does she do for a living?
Nothing. She said she’s just a traveler; all her money comes from investments. Made me wonder what she’s doing when she goes out, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
-Where did she learn to cook so good?
France. I wish I could go to France….
She used my questions as an excuse for her to interrogate me on my personal life. It… kinda reminded me of the conversation I had with John/Grendel, so I didn’t really answer them in much detail…. Still told her some stuff of the basics things about myself, but kept quiet about personal things….
The one thing we’ve been able to talk in depth about has been books. I’ve never had a chance to talk to someone who’s shared my interest like that before. We spent hours talking about S.M. Stirling’s Emberverse, and debating which book is the best from Garth Nix’s Old Kingdom trilogy (she says Sabriel, I say Lirael).
Talking with I-330 is…. Well, fascinating. I admit I haven’t spoken with that many people in my life, but out of those I have, she’s unique. Each word is boldly thrown into the air, laced with authority and bravado. She doesn’t give opinions; she states facts, and dares the rest of the universe to disagree with her. If Lirael wasn’t one of my favorite books, I’d have quietly acquiesced when she declared Sabriel superior, rather than try to stand up to such a commanding tone. And when she really gets into a subject, she puts her whole body into it; rapidly pacing back and forth while swinging her right arm in wild gestures with each emphasized word. It’s always the right arm, I’ve noticed. She keeps her left locked solidly at her side at all times, unless she needs its use for something.
Earlier today, a delivery man stopped at my house. Didn’t know why; I hadn’t ordered anything. Soon as I-330 realized who was at the door, she rushed over and practically ripped the box out of the poor man’s hands. I had to sign for the package, because she ran straight back inside and started to tear it open immediately. I’m not sure what the fuss is about; inside is just a bunch of DVDs from some TV show called Doctor Who. I-330 was looking at them like they were her long lost children, and handling each case with love. She’s made me promise to watch them with her; I don’t usually watch television (I haven’t even turned on my TV in over a year…), but it looked like something she’d insist if I disagreed, and I didn’t want to start a confrontation….
I suppose it can’t be too bad. Probably a medical drama like E.R. I’ll watch a few episodes, and maybe then she’ll let me off the hook.
-Lisa
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