Chapter Twenty-One

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Jack and Michael were in Elliot's room taking turns with a new toy Elliot had made.

Jack opened the box first. It was made of wood, and clamped onto itself in a triangular shape. The inside was hollow, and a set of thick wires bloomed out of the hole as it opened. Each one had a flattened edge, and when he flicked them down they made a rich tone as they vibrated. From somewhere inside the box, a spray of colorful sparks burst out onto his hands. He played a short melody—it didn't seem to matter what order the wires were plucked in—then handed the box to Michael.

Michael took hold of a knob over the opening and slid the box shut. As he did this, the wires retreated and a groove appeared in the middle of the triangle. He broke the whole thing in half and opened it back into a cube with a series of satisfying snaps. Inside was a set of figurines, and after winding a key on the back, they watched as the statues moved their tiny limbs to a deep, percussive clicking. The figurines were brass and silver with lace-like gears rotating their limbs. They had clothing made of gossamer chains and their eyes were emeralds. In spite of their size, even their fingers were articulated, and as they moved the floor of the box shifted into different geometric designs.

"This is my favorite thing you've made," Michael said.

"It'll just get better the more you use it," Elliot said. "Each form is both practice and result."

"How do you make this sort of thing, Elliot?" Jack asked, watching as the outside of the box shifted between different mesmerizing patterns.

Elliot put down the gear he was filing and tilted up the magnifier on his head. "Well, it's mostly tinkering. I like to break as many rules as possible without making it seem like I did." He laughed.

"There are rules?" Michael asked, closing the box.

"For the most part," Elliot said. "Everything has rules. If there weren't any, we wouldn't be able to understand how anything works."

Michael set the box down and looked at it thoughtfully. "If something works a certain way, and there are rules to guide it, how can you break those rules without seeming like you did?"

"Think of it this way," Elliot said, leaning forward. "A rule about boxes is that they open and close. I broke that rule because the box opens and closes infinitely. It still seems like a rule, though, because the box opens and closes."

Michael picked up the box. "If it's both infinite and finite, that means I could trick it," he said with a wide smile. He took the box and opened it half way. As he did, another set of grooves started to appear. He set it down on the table, took a flat screwdriver, and pried open the other slit. There was a roar of noise and an explosion of tiny gears as the box began turning itself inside-out in and endless way. At the center of it, a bright light was flashing and throwing sparks. Part of the rug caught fire.

Michael started laughing and clapped his hands. The box skidded off the table and ricocheted into the wall before hitting the floor. Jack stomped on the fires it made. Elliot grabbed a steel bin and leapt on top of the contraption, struggling as it bounced around inside. He sealed a lid over the mouth of the bin, then leaned back with a sigh.

"I like it better that way," Michael said. "It seems more free."

Jack could hear the box banging against the sides of the bin.

"You're welcome to keep it," Elliot said, climbing back into his chair. Jack thought he sounded a little disappointed.

"I liked it how it was before," Jack said. "The endless opening made me feel sick."

"Yes," Michael said, "but sometimes nature is all the more beautiful when it's violent."

"Everyone's a critic!" Elliot said, waving his arms dramatically. He turned his chair around, pulling the magnifier back down over his eye, and spun four lenses into place over the oculus, peering through them as he twisted the fine adjustment. He had a plate of sand in front of him, and he was making impressions in it with various gear templates. He picked up a tiny gear with a comically long pair of tweezers and pressed it into the sand. When he pulled it free, there was a perfect impression.

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