"Well," said Del, laughing because the novelist in her head informed her that this rhymed, "It's sort of hard to explain." She stared at the screen again. How exactly had this happened? It had been a long time ago...

Delorfinde is eight years old. She stands in the centre of an empty field. It is sunset. Around her the world is bathed in red light, shining and wrapping her arms in soft, reddish orange satin. She looks up, and they approach.

"You're lost in memories," said Spook, laughing. "I know that look on your face. It's exactly how you described Alex when he was thinking about his past, with all the italics and stuff."

Del couldn't help laughing too. "You're right," she admitted. "All right. You want the truth? This is going to be seriously weird. You're not going to believe me."

"Spit it out, go on!"

"I made up this language, and the computer coded dialect, and what it controls, because I had to keep things secret from the people trying to find out everything about me. Used incorrectly, the coding encrypted within the alphabet can in fact control enough missiles to destroy the Earth, and probably the Moon as well."

"Is that your plan?"

"No. I plan to use it to destroy weapons, because I don't believe in war." Del paused. "But at the moment it's just a bunch of useful squigglies for writing my diary. Not much help to humanity in general."

"Oh, I see." Spook looked around. "Well, I'm fed up of being indoors. Let me show you around the grounds, come on!"

As they left the room, Spook muttered, "Let's see how you squeal when I push you in the pool...."

The End

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