House Renovation II

I carefully turned my gaze to the walls and ceiling, inspecting the holes that had formed over time. By the time Daneel returned, I had already identified several gaps, large and small. These cracks, created by time, the wind, and perhaps the ageing of the adobe structure itself, were slowly letting the warmth escape while inviting in the sharp chill of autumn. As the door creaked open slightly, I turned my attention to it—our retired soldier had finally returned.

"Young man, bring me the clay basin from the kitchen and the ceramic jar of hot water I prepared by the fireplace," Daneel said, his voice as confident as ever, though with a slight urgency.

I set off to complete his request. Heading into the kitchen, I carefully gathered the materials he had asked for, making sure to handle them with caution. The jar in my hands was still warm, and a faint steam rose from its ceramic surface. I carried everything over to Daneel and placed them before him.

"Good job, lad," he said with a slight nod of approval. "Now, I need you to watch me closely. Listen carefully to what I say, and if anything is unclear, don't hesitate to ask, alright?"

I nodded in agreement and focused on his instructions.

"Now, young man, we're going to prepare the adobe mortar to repair these holes. We'll mix clay soil, straw, and hot water in this basin. Then, we'll knead it thoroughly with our hands. You see, adobe houses are different from stone buildings—they stay cool in summer and warm in winter. But they have a drawback: they don't last as long. While stone houses can stand for generations, adobe homes, if not properly maintained, will crumble back into the earth. They might not even last a single generation."

I listened carefully, absorbing his words. Slowly, I raised my head to ask a question.

"Why do we add hot water to the mix? Wouldn't normal water work just as well?"

Daneel smiled slightly, stroking his beard. It was clear he appreciated the question.

"Good question, lad. This kind of repair is usually done in the summer. But for certain reasons, we didn't get around to it then. Now, with autumn's chill setting in, the water is cold. Using hot water helps achieve the right consistency. The clay dissolves more easily and bonds better with the straw and other materials."

After explaining, he poured the large chunk of clay into the basin and carefully added the hot water. As he began kneading, I noticed how quickly the mixture started to take form. The clay and water blended into a heavy, sticky mud between his fingers. As he worked, the texture became smoother, taking shape under his strong hands. However, he had not yet added the straw. I couldn't resist asking.

"Daneel, when do we add the straw?" I asked, watching him closely.

The old man paused for a moment and looked at me with a strange expression. Then he shook his head and chuckled.

"Ah, lad, I nearly forgot! Without straw, the mixture won't hold together—it won't be strong enough. Clay binds with straw to reinforce the structure. Fibrous grasses can also be used, but since we have plenty of straw, that's what we'll use."

With that, he added a generous handful of straw into the mixture and continued kneading. Even with his hands covered in mud, his movements displayed both precision and mastery.

"Lad," Daneel said after kneading for a while, "the mortar is ready now. I'm giving you a task. Take this trowel and apply the mix to the holes. I'll show you how to do it first."

He then picked up a small clay container he had brought from outside and filled it with the mortar. Using the trowel in his hand, he carefully sealed a hole in the ceiling with meticulous precision. As he worked, it was evident that he carried the skill and experience of years. He moved slowly, ensuring that I could follow his every motion, almost as if he wanted me to memorise his technique.

"Alek, can you patch up the holes the way I did? Can you complete the task I'm giving you?" he asked, looking directly into my eyes.

His method was now clear in my mind. "Yes, I can do it just as you showed me," I replied confidently.

Daneel nodded in approval. "Well then, here you go," he said, handing me the trowel and the mortar-filled container.

Just as I was about to start working, a thought crossed my mind, and I silently asked Siri, "Siri, can we replicate Daneel's technique? Can I work in exactly the same way using the information he provided?"

Siri's voice echoed in my mind: "Daneel's expertise has been recorded in past observations. Accessing memory files... Playing recorded video... Simulated experience has been generated based on repeated observations. The simulated experience is now available. Would you like to save it in memory?"

"Yes, save it," I responded. Suddenly, it was as if Daneel's previous movements were etched into my mind. With the trowel in hand, I began working. I applied the mortar to the holes with such skill and precision that an outsider would have assumed I had been doing this for years. Thanks to the data Siri provided, I had nearly reached an expert level.

Daneel observed me closely. After a while, he nodded with a satisfied expression.

"Well done, lad," he said. "You said you'd never done this before. But from what I see, you've done a remarkable job for a first-timer. I don't know if this is a natural talent or if you have another secret. But it doesn't matter—the result speaks for itself. Anyway, I have work to do outside. Keep at it here."

With that, he opened the door and stepped out. I watched him leave, then continued my work with precision.

In those moments, repairing the adobe house, I felt—perhaps for the first time—that I had truly accomplished something here. Every small patch I applied with my hands felt like carving out a place for myself in this new world. And somehow, that brought me a quiet sense of peace.