touched the tips of the thumbs
together and activated them.
They twitched and then
waited, inert, next to the rest of
her fingers. According to the quick
start, she just had to move her
big toe and they would respond
accordingly. Concentrating, Inez
tried to flex her toe. The right
thumb moved.
The gorge rose in the back of
her throat. Her chest tightened.
This was fine. She let out her
breath. This wasn’t any different
from eyeglasses or a pacemaker,
all of which were totally normal
things. This was just a small,
temporary augment.
Carefully, she touched the
thumb to each fingertip on
her right hand and then tried the
same on her left. It was slow and
awkward, but she managed it.
Theoretically, the AI on board
would calibrate as she went about
her day, learning what ordinary
movements were from her.
She looked back at the sheet
some of them. The Christmas
tree was up on the plaza outside
Harpa and the lights reflected
on the angled panes of the
large windows. She stared past
it toward the city, holding her
cup of cocoa with her augmented
thumb and palm while she
stirred it idly with her natural
thumb and index finger.
“Hallo!” Ragnhildur stopped
on the broad stairs by the cafe
table and held up a steaming cup.
“I see we have the same idea.”
“Windowless studios are good
for concentration but... I was
getting a little fuzzy-headed.”
Inez pushed back from the table
and accidentally flexed her toe.
The mug dropped from her
grasp, hitting the edge of the
table and shattering. Cocoa went
everywhere. She gasped as the hot
liquid soaked her skirt. Her hands
were clumsy as she tried to pull
the cloth away from her skin.
Ragnhildur had danced back
to avoid getting splashed and now
darted forward, grabbing a napkin
from the table. “Here! Can I help?
Are you hurt?”
“Fine.” She held the fabric
away from her legs and dabbed
at it with the napkin, which
soaked through immediately.
“Fine. It wasn’t that hot.”
Her cheeks were probably
hotter than the coffee at this point.
“We all drop things.” But
Ragnhildur’s gaze had drifted
to the thumbs.
“Yes, but this was so stupid.”
Inez wanted to reassure her that
this was an aberration. “All I had
to do was keep my toe curled when
I stood. It didn’t even need to be
tightly curled, just not flexed.”
“I know.” She held up her hand,
which had thumb augments that
moved as naturally as if they were
a part of her body. “If... I might be
able to rework the piece. I know
you weren’t comfor–”
“No.” She let the sodden cloth
drop and straightened. “Don’t.
I’ll be ready when you finish
writing it.”
#
The main concert hall in Harpa
was vast and lined with blood-redpanels. The windows at the top
of the seaward wall were dark
oblongs of night. Inez shifted
from one foot to the other while
the orchestra tuned on stage. It
was a familiar space. The murmur
of the audience could have been
in any language and still woven
the same spell of anticipation.
Sóldís stopped beside her,
resplendent in her white tie
and tails. Her mop of silver curls
was brushed back from her face
in a smooth coif that would shakefree with her energy over the
course of the evening. “You must
introduce me to your parents
after. I did not see them during
the pre-show reception.”
“They aren’t here.” She stared
straight ahead at the bright stage.
Beside her, she could feel
Sóldís turn to regard her, probably
with an eyebrow raised. “Please
tell me that we did not neglect
to tell you of our arrangement
with Icelandair.”
“No. We’re... No, they just
decided not to come.” It was just
as well. She would have felt them
judging her all night and the week
beforehand. And on all the phone
calls that she had stopped taking.
“Hm.” She faced front again.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
With a nod, Sóldís
Vilhjálmsdottir strode onto the
stage and her orchestra rose. The
audience applauded their respects
as she walked to center stage and
bowed. Then she turned and held
out her hand to the wings.
To Inez.
Head high, Inez walked the
distance to her piano. The
audience clapped, but not with
the warmth of the welcome they
gave to Sóldís. It was generous and
appropriate and nothing more
than that. They didn’t know her.
Nodding to Sóldís, Inez sat atmusic and set her hands on the
piano. The geckoskin squeezed
as she rested the thumbs against
the specific keys giving her haptic
feedback of the contact. Wetting
her lips, she tried to play a scale
with this new extra spread.
Her notes were slow and clumsy
as if she were four again. Under
her twelve fingers, the piano had
become a strange landscape. The
notes on the page of Einhverfjöll
seemed even farther out of reach.
Before she’d just been missing a few
notes. Now she couldn’t play at all.
The phone rang. Her parents
again.
Inez ground her teeth
together and ignored the phone.
She started playing a scale.
Twelve fingers. One at a time.
#
The cafe in Harpa was bright and
cozy, even on dark days. As the
calendar tipped into December,
only about five hours of daylight
remained and Inez tried to make
certain she got daylight for at least“ Her notes were slow
and clumsy. Under
her twelve fingers,
the piano had become
a strange landscape”>18/25 December 2021 | New Scientist | 41