Kornél shifted restlessly in his chair. This conference room had always had a bad effect on him. Too many decisions had been made here, too many lives had been turned in one direction or another by a single sentence, a signature, a glance away. For better and for worse.

All he hoped for now was that nothing unexpected would come up, nothing that needed to be “dealt with immediately,” nothing that could be dumped on him.

Anything could happen at their company. His boss knew no private life, only deadlines. But Kornél had promised Icus they would leave today. Even if heaven and earth came crashing together.

They had rented the little wooden house a month and a half earlier. They had talked about it every evening. Icus imagined it, and Kornél nodded along. That was how Icus worked: if she had planned something, it had to work. If it didn’t, there would be trouble. Kornél didn’t even dare think about what kind of trouble he would be facing if their departure were delayed.

Just let this meeting be over already, he thought. Then he would have Aranka tell everyone he was unavailable. If anyone called, he wasn’t there. He didn’t exist.

His boss sat across from him. He looked at him, talked to him, and for the moment there was no escape.

Meanwhile, Icus was packing Vivien’s toys into the little suitcase. The girl was four years old. She could walk, talk and ask questions, but she still depended on her mother for everything. A stuffed rabbit, a wooden block, a little rag doll – everything had its place, everything mattered.

Icus did not pack so methodically by accident. Sport, basketball had taught her that. The years when everything she needed had to fit into a single sports bag: two sets of uniforms, two pairs of shoes, socks, bandages, knee pads, tracksuit, towel, everything that might be needed. She knew where everything belonged, what had to stay within reach, what she might need quickly.

Order was not about aesthetics. It was about function and safety.

Her phone rang.

“Mom… I told you, we’re already halfway there,” she said patiently. “Don’t worry about us. Yes, we thought of everything. Yes, we brought that too. No, there won’t be an internet connection. We deliberately chose a house where Kornél couldn’t be constantly disturbed. Yes, I checked the contracts. Everything will be fine with the guesthouses while we’re away.”

She listened to the worried voice on the other end.

“This is supposed to be rest. Recharging. Of course, I’d like to chat and send pictures, but Kornél insists on living like it’s the Stone Age. He thinks it will do us good.”

She smiled for a moment.

“Yes, we have bandages. We have medicine too. Cream for insect bites, yes, that too. I have to go now. I love you too.”

She ended the call.

Parents have a way of seeing you as their child forever, she thought. Then she paused for a moment.

“But I’m a mother now too. I’ll probably be exactly the same. Or worse.”

Vivien looked up at her.

“Mommy, is Bunny coming too?”

“Of course,” she said. “Bunny always comes.”

Kornél finally stepped out of the conference room. He breathed a sigh of relief.

I made it through.

“Aranka,” he said to his secretary. “Don’t put anyone through. I have very important, deadline-sensitive work.”

These two hours should be manageable, he thought.

He thought of Icus. The six years they had spent together. It had been a good decision. He regretted none of it. He had searched for the right woman for a long time, and it had taken him a while to find her.

Then they met at a gym. Icus played basketball and went there for strength training. She was a national-team player with plenty of admirers. Kornél had been at every one of her games, standing among the fans, enjoying the fact that other people were analyzing his woman. They praised her, criticized her, argued about her – without knowing that he was her partner.

He was proud of her.

After a serious knee injury, Icus continued as a coach. She completed the necessary training and was successful at that too. Whatever she touched seemed to turn to gold in her hands. She still took care of herself, still radiated something special. Kornél was still crazy about her.

And Vivien… she was everything.

They had chosen the house in Switzerland because it was far from everything. No phone, no email, no constant pinging. They had specifically asked the travel agency to make sure of that.

Later, once they arrived, Icus discovered that there actually was working internet, but she didn’t tell Kornél. She knew that if he found out, he would disappear into his computer and their carefree time together would be over.

At the airport in Zurich, an employee from the agency was waiting for them with a comfortable SUV. After three hours of driving, they arrived.

Vivien handled the journey even better than usual. Icus was incredibly proud of her little girl.

The house was not postcard-perfect. It was real, made of wood, silence and air. A genuine mountain retreat from the outside.

Inside, it was equipped with everything modern: a kitchen, bathroom, a marble fireplace in the living room. Swiss engineering throughout. It would be needed too, with autumn already approaching and the heating about to become essential.

Vivien’s room was directly next to the bedroom. Icus would have gladly let Vivien sleep between them more often, but Kornél was uncompromising about that.

“She has to sleep in her own bed. That’s how she’ll really become independent. Sleeping in the same bed isn’t healthy.”

When the two of them were alone at home in the mornings, Icus enjoyed Vivien’s closeness, her warmth, there beside her in the bed.

That was their little secret.

Days passed. Walks, climbing, running around, all kinds of creative games and lots and lots of laughter.

Vivien blossomed. The fresh air and all the physical activity were clearly doing her good. She handled it well. For a little girl, she was a real tough little thing.

On the fourth day, over breakfast, Kornél mentioned to Icus that the village two hours away was holding its market day. Many vendors came from the surrounding farms on those days, selling all kinds of local products.

“What do you say, Icus, if I run down there? I can handle the pace and be back in two hours. I won’t wander around, I’ll shop quickly, and I won’t leave you alone for long. You’ll be okay? You won’t be afraid here, just the two of you?”

“Me, afraid? Apparently you still don’t know who your partner is, Kornél. Go. If they have local honey, and fruit, anything like that, bring plenty. We’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll hurry. I’ll be back this afternoon. Lie back down after breakfast.”

Icus went back to sleep. She woke from a strange dream and looked at the clock.

Eleven.

“Vivien,” she called softly. “How come she hasn’t climbed in beside me like she usually does?”

She called louder.

Nothing.

She jumped out of bed and ran to the child’s room.

Vivien was asleep.

Too deeply.

When Icus touched her forehead, she screamed.

Hot.

She took her temperature immediately. The digital thermometer showed 39.5.

“Oh my God, what is this?”

“Don’t panic, don’t panic!”

But she panicked.

She needed medicine immediately. But that wouldn’t be enough. It would take too long to work.

“Good thing we brought some.”

But it’s slow, too slow, she stammered aloud.

She knew, she could feel it: this needed immediate help.

Grandma.

What had Grandma said?

I didn’t listen. I dismissed it. Old-fashioned nonsense.

Cold water…

But how cold?

She had said it. She must have said it. Grandma always knew everything.

The water was already running in the bathroom. Too cold, Icus felt, and she stopped.

This can’t be right.

It’s far too cold.

She remembered the sudden plunges into Lake Balaton in summer. And all the stories she had read about sudden cardiac deaths.

Then it hit her.

We have internet. We have internet.

She ran and opened the laptop.

She didn’t check, didn’t weigh things up. She typed.

Symptoms, age, temperature in numbers.

The answer came quickly: gradual cooling. Absolutely no sudden cooling.

She cried out.

“Of course I could have been that stupid. I would have put her into ice-cold water. I could have killed her.”

She turned off the tap, ran more water, this time warmer, and mixed it by hand.

And then it suddenly came back to her.

Grandma.

“My girl, the point is that compared with forty degrees, thirty-five is cold too. Remember that. As with everything else, gradualness is the key.”

Icus closed her eyes for a moment.

Grandma.

She had said it.

Now she remembered clearly.

She checked the temperature of the water and began cooling Vivien gradually.

An hour later, Vivien came around.

The gradual cooling in the bath had helped. Her energy returned, her eyes cleared.

The worst was over.

A word suddenly came to Icus.

Febrile seizure.

She had heard it somewhere, sometime.

It sounded terrifying.

She tried to push the thought away.

Not now. She was not going to look up what it meant on the computer.

When Kornél returned, he immediately saw that something serious had happened while he was away.

Icus was the kind of person who, once she had solved a problem, didn’t dramatize it afterward. She never played the martyr, and she expected the same from everyone around her.

Everyone does their job, and everything will be fine.

That’s it. Don’t talk about it. Solve it.

“Kornél, it’s nothing major, but we had a bit of a fever catastrophe here. Call Alexander and have him take us to a clinic. Vivien needs to be examined.”

At the clinic, they determined that Vivien had an aggressive viral infection that could be brought under control with medication and plenty of rest.

They told them to stay there without worry. The mountain air would be one of the best additional forms of support.

The doctor tried to reassure Icus.

“As quickly as these symptoms appear, they can disappear in children of this age.”

“You handled the situation very well, dear mother. Many people simply don’t know what to do in circumstances like this.”

“My grandmother taught me what to do.”

On the way back, Kornél stared out the window, withdrawn, gently stroking Vivien’s hand.

When they returned to the house, he stood before Icus with tears in his eyes.

“I should have been here. I left you alone with our child in a serious situation just to go buy some stupid food. How could this have happened? Forgive me, Icus.”

“Darling Kornél, you didn’t do anything wrong. That’s how it happened, and that’s that. Let’s not make a drama out of it. Let’s move on and enjoy ourselves. We were very lucky that Grandma was with us.”

That evening, when Vivien was sleeping peacefully again, Icus sat beside her for a long time.

She thought about what a strange thing knowledge was.

Decades earlier, her grandmother had told her something she had perhaps regarded at the time as just another piece of old-fashioned advice. Then a moment came when she needed it.

And it had been there inside her.

It had stayed.

The internet had been there too. A vast body of knowledge that could now be reached almost anywhere.

Icus didn’t have to know everything.

She only had to know where to look for what she needed.

Her grandmother’s knowledge and the world’s new knowledge had somehow met that morning.

Two different worlds.

One purpose.

To make sure knowledge is there when it is needed.

And perhaps that is one of the best faces of technology.

Not when it thinks for us.

But when it helps us reach what humanity already knows.

Grandma was no longer there.

Her knowledge was.

Something had preserved it.

And when it was needed, it made it available.