Chapter 9

From the office windows, there was an excellent view: the sunrise on Jupiter. It was a momentous occasion for the colony. The sight was mesmerizing, and one wanted to stretch out such a beautiful moment. However, the office’s owner didn’t care—her practice had been going smoothly until she took on Anji Ganet’s case.

For a week now, she had been reviewing test records, conversations with doctors, and the physicians’ personal notes. Elisa was gripped by excitement. This was an interesting case that didn’t fit the usual pattern. She flew to the spaceport and spoke with the foreman. After promising that the details of their conversation would remain confidential, the foreman relented. He fully reconstructed the events of the past year.

Anji had appeared at the port, and at first, no one paid him any attention. When thefts were discovered, he was caught and quickly confessed to everything. The boy was made to work off the damages, and then Anji himself asked to stay. He took on the dirtiest jobs—the kind no one else wanted. He grew close to one of the engineers, but after the accident with Galboa, he vanished and never returned.

The most astonishing thing was that Anji, as described by the spaceport staff, was completely different from how doctors and orphanage staff portrayed him. He behaved with full awareness and, most importantly, he spoke. And how he spoke! He could haggle with workers and present arguments—something uncharacteristic of a child’s speech. He didn’t cry or whine. The foreman even said he was ruthless—not in how he treated others, but toward himself.

"He’d scare anyone for a laugh, but he himself wasn’t afraid, and jokes at his expense were practically taken as outright aggression. He completed tasks exactly on time. If he’d been older, I’d have hired him."

"What do you think about his behavior in general?"

"Well, he didn’t let anyone get close. In conversation, he kept a distance of about one to one and a half meters. He addressed everyone formally—only Galboa and his son he spoke to informally."

Elisa took notes. A person’s behavior in society reflects their inner world. Right now, it seemed Anji perceived the entire world as a threat—only two people had earned his trust and been allowed closer. Personal space—the comfortable distance for conversation—was usually about eighty centimeters from a person’s body. For Anji, it was one hundred twenty centimeters.

Too bad she couldn’t speak with Galboa. The medical staff wasn’t allowing anyone in—the patient was unconscious, undergoing body reconstruction.

Elisa had gathered enough material to talk to the boy. He would have to engage—then she could begin behavioral correction therapy. Her tactics and arguments were prepared; Anji’s weak points had been identified.

Supervisor Vaalsi refused to send the boy to her office, so she’d have to go to the orphanage herself. The day after tomorrow, in the evening, she would finally see the subject of her research.

"I wonder… how will he react?"