The woman arrives. Nothing hurts anymore. She isn’t afraid. She feels a strange kind of lightness, as if she had finally taken off a coat that had been too tight for years.

 

She’s surprised. Her father-in-law is waiting for her.

 

“So it’s you, Dad? Where are the others?”

 

“Hi, sweetheart. The others will come later, but first we’ve got something important to handle. How do you feel?”

 

“Better. Lighter. I’m only worried about the boys… You know what Csabi is like, your son. They’re going to need help. Is that even possible? They still have that damn software that keeps eating money. Is there any way I can help them?”

 

“Yes, there is. This is our shared mission now. Once we solve it, nothing will weigh on you anymore.”

 

“Can we help them from here? Maybe with a lottery win? That would cheer them up.”

 

The old man smiles.

 

“Not like that. But there’s something else. From here, we don’t see time the way they do. There’s no past, present, or future. We see the whole thing at once. The software will succeed. First in Japan. After that, everything starts moving. But until then…”

 

“Until then what? The boys won’t survive that long.”

 

“They will. Because they’re going to succeed. We can see that clearly from here. This is our mission, Edó, and we’ll solve it.”

 

The old man falls silent for a moment.

 

“For years I’ve been trying to push my son toward writing. My grandson will become the most successful out of all of us, but both of them are stubborn as hell. My influence alone isn’t enough. That’s where you come in. He won’t argue with you.”

 

“And this will help them survive?”

 

“Yes. The software is already out there in the world, walking its own path. There’s nothing more they can do with it right now. We need to keep them occupied, otherwise they’ll go insane from missing you. Push hard enough so the message gets through. Don’t be gentle. He’s sitting in front of the computer right now, pretending to work, thinking about you, and he’s about to start crying again. Go ahead.”

 

Edó takes a deep breath.

 

“Listen to me, Tresch! I spent forty-five years listening to your endless bullshit about things nobody could understand. Now it’s our turn. Your old man is sitting here beside me, and we’ve decided you’re going to work for us. Fine, let’s put it more accurately: you’re going to work with us. You’ll bring Milán in too. According to your father, he’s better than you, which honestly isn’t exactly difficult.”

 

“That was a bit harsh, sweetheart,” the old man grins. “But you’re on the right track. Keep going.”

 

“So pull yourself together. We’ll send the stories, and you and Milán will write them down.”

 

“That’s enough,” says the old man. “Just add one more thing. Tell him he should be grateful I wasn’t a lathe operator. Otherwise I would’ve carved a proper working man out of him with a small axe.”

 

“How does that fit into any of this, Dad?”

 

“One day he’s going to write to someone that he wishes I had been one. Just so he understands what that would’ve meant. He also would’ve lost the ability to be a fan.”

 

“Now you’ve completely confused me. What fan?”

 

“You’ll see. And you’ll laugh your ass off from up here. But first let’s get through this.”

 

“And what if he doesn’t do it? He’s completely broken.”

 

“Just watch.”

 

Csabi has been staring at the monitor for hours, trying to kill time. His heart is shattered. Why did Edó have to leave this early? There has to be something left behind for her. Something that stays.

 

Mesi mentioned that story about the two girls sharing a school desk. Maybe there’s something in it. Dad could’ve written it easily.

 

He exits YouTube and opens his email. He stares at the screen for a long time.

 

Then he types:

 

Two Girls in One Desk

 

“Not a bad title,” he mutters. “Still thin as hell, though.”

 

And he starts typing.

 

“On September 4th, at exactly 6:15 in the morning, two men…”

 

Then suddenly he shouts:

 

“Milán! Get in here and continue this! I’m going to tell stories! But first bring me my glucose meter, because I feel weird!”

 

“You see, sweetheart,” the old man says quietly. “He listens to you. He doesn’t dare say no to you.”

 

“So what happens now?”

 

“We keep them working for two years. We flood them with stories. That’s how they survive. Don’t worry.”