Literature
The abacus
The frame is cold and hard. Polished steel. I think Mum would have muttered out a grumpy word or two. She always preferred brass. I don't know. Steel seems suitable. Stainless, to be precise. Not the ordinary stainless steel we make sinks and cutlery from these days. It IS steel. The frame is magnetic. I tested it. And the frame is still a tiny bit magnetic. Steel. Not plated with chromium. That would almost be cheating. Some alloy. Resistant, machinable, bright as the palladium tip of my fountain pen. Palladium is not ferrous-magnetic, so palladium can be ruled out.
Why this attention to the frame and its material? I chose it for her. She was a strange mixture of endless love and affection, and a will that made titanium look soft as wet clay. The war came, and along with it, all the hardship and dread that can fall upon a people. A storm that raged for years. She was just a girl when the cracks of rifle fire and the thudding of marching boots mixed with artillery barrages and wailing
