"Just like I monitored your phone calls, I overheard him talking to another soldier about it before he—before the crash. He just thought you'd be interested."
"Oh," she said. She moved the silver circle away from the others, put the dislocated copper coins back in the square again, and flipped the smaller coin once more. Two different coins jumped away. "Damn," Clea said, softly.
"Huh?" He looked up. Tears were running down her face.
"Damn," she said. "It hurts." She blinked and looked up again. "What about you? You still haven't told me all that's happened to you. Wait a moment." She reached for her notebook, took a pencil up, and made a note.
"An idea?" he asked.
"From the game," she told him. "Something I hadn't thought of before."
He smiled. "Does that solve all your problems on—what were they—sub-trigonometric functions?"
"Inverse sub-trigonometric functions," she said. "No. It doesn't go that simply. Did you stop your war?"
"I tried," he said. "It doesn't go that simply."
"Are you free?"