Jori’s tutor could explain a net knot three ways. It could not mend the net.
Mett came to the workshop with six broken loops in her fishing net and a question about the little machine on Jori’s bench.
“Can it show me the turn I keep missing?”
Jori pressed the button. The screen lit up. A slow drawing showed where the cord crossed, stopped, and began again when Mett asked it to.
“That’s it,” Mett said. “Could I take the lesson home?”
“The lesson, yes. I haven’t made the whole tutor available yet.”
Jori had built its lesson system herself. She wanted anyone in the harbour to copy her design and use it without a charge. But the processor inside the machine was rented from Venn, the supplier who also paid her for work at his laboratory.
Venn’s rental agreement said he could take the processor back if she offered a competing free service. Her separate laboratory contract would end on the same terms. She had signed both when she needed equipment and wages. Now the tutor was ready, and the terms still stood.
Ilan, who repaired tools at the next bench, read her notice for the public meeting.
“Are you giving away my hours too?” he asked.
“No. The design.”
“Your notice says help and repairs at the workshop.”
She took it back. It did say that.
Ilan needed the money from repairs to pay his own rent. He liked the tutor, but he had not agreed to spend every evening fixing copies of it.
Jori changed the notice. The design and lessons would be free. Repair work would be booked and paid. She put her own name under the design and Ilan’s price beside the repair hours, with his permission.
Venn came before the meeting. He carried an empty equipment case.
“Take the notice down,” he said. “Keep the lab job. I’ll leave the machine here.”
“May I share it next month?”
“The terms won’t change next month.”
Jori looked at the screen. Mett’s knot lesson waited where she had left it. Beside it lay her unpaid winter rent bill.
“Then I’ll need to give you the processor,” she said.
Venn watched while she turned it off. She had already saved her own design and lesson files to a drive she owned. She handed over the rented processor, its cables and its manual. She kept her notebook.
“The lab contract ends Friday,” Venn said.
“I understand.”
When he had gone, Ilan pushed his chair back. “What runs the tutor now?”
“Nothing yet.”
“People will come tonight.”
“I know.”
The workshop’s little stove had nearly gone out. Jori added two pieces of wood. Its door clicked shut while she worked out what she could afford to promise.
At the meeting she laid printed copies of her original design on the table. She explained why the screen was dark. Anyone could take the design; a working copy would still need an ordinary processor, tools and time.
Mett held up her damaged net. “Can we do this without the machine?”
Ilan showed her the turn on a length of thick cord. Jori drew each step on a separate sheet. Mett took those lesson sheets home. She left the design packet for someone who wanted to build a tutor.
Three people offered old processors. Only one had the fittings Ilan needed. He checked it after they agreed to pay him for two evenings’ work. The donors wrote down who owned the parts and which parts they were giving, so nobody would have to guess later.
The next week the tutor ran again, slower than before. Jori put its free lessons near the door. Above Ilan’s bench hung his hours and prices.
There was no crowd ready to pay Jori’s winter rent. She began asking other workshops about paid design work. Each morning she put away the free lesson sheets before using the table for those calls.
On Thursday Mett returned with one loop still wrong. She booked half an hour at Ilan’s bench and paid for it. Jori sat beside them with a pencil, checking which drawing had confused her.
The stove warmed their hands. Mett passed the cord through the loop, stopped at the troublesome turn, and made it again. This time the knot held when Ilan pulled it.
“Leave me that drawing,” Jori said. “I’ll fix it before the next person takes it.”
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