Unlike human speech, which was verbose but can be understood on-the-fly, computer code had to be translated in machine readable form. This was in the form of ones and zeroes, the binary form a computer could execute. For Java, this meant that the code written by the developer, needed to be compiled and made into processor-independent class files. These in turn could be read by the Java Virtual Machine and ran on virtually any platform.
As Bego read this description of the Java language, it dawned upon her that she was a compiler as well. She understood what people meant and not what was said. People never liked her insights, because she was too direct and critical. At other times, people found her to be shallow, not capable of looking beyond someone’s exterior. To an extent, this held water, because she could read a lot on a person’s face. Even though many denied her near guesses and observations, she knew better than to trust what a person said. The unsaid or non-verbal communication was what mattered.
Like any program compiled differently on separate machines, someone behaved differently in separate environments. When on holiday, individuals lost their boundaries and indulged in exquisite affairs. On the island, this came in the form of either excessive drinking, in El Arenal or Magaluf, or spending large sums of money in Mallorca’s Santa Monica or Port Portals.
Bego never knew what to make of these affairs, standing aloof and casually observing her patients that came to her with the wildest stories. Or so she had imagined them, because the only patients she received were distant family, not counting Patricia. Through Patricia, she met people of cultural value. She remembered Adriana’s mother, who was a promising artist, albeit quite old. Maybe Adriana got her inventiveness from her mother, approaching code as a painter approaching a canvas. Instead of using a brush and applying paint, a developer had other tools at his or her disposal.
One of those tools seemed to be an unwavering amount of patience, because more often than not, a program would not compile or behaved unexpectedly. The psychologist liked this tenacity, as she had always persevered in a calling that was not befitting to her. She never had been a people’s person and yet there she was, amidst the humans.
While she was quietly contemplating Adriana’s case, somebody had stepped over the threshold. It was Patricia. What did she have to bring to the table? She never liked unannounced visits, least of which from Patricia. The publisher of the Antilles had a tendency to barge in and let the psychologist deal with the consequences.