On Sunday, in the grove by the lake, while Géb was drawing a technical drawing as a substitute for Tuesday's exam, he noticed a series of splashes.

  - "Splash, splash," came the soft sound of splashing water as one by one the delicious morsels for the now flocked flock of ducks were submerged. He turned to the side and saw the Old Man. He was cheerful as ever. With his eyes closed, he turned towards the sun, stretched his limbs out comfortably on the green lawn, and then began to throw the snacks to the ducks again, encouraging them.

  - Eat up, my friends. Enjoy the sweet life of ignorance. You, for the moment," he added, breaking the rhythm of his earlier measured words, "have been given the gift of not having to take charge of your own destiny by the ability to think . Though you have no hands- she sniggered at her own rather bizarre sounding joke, then turned to the boy and asked:

  - Do you think, brother, that the greater gift is the fate of the duck or the fate of the man?

  - Who are you and what do you want from me? - he replied in a slightly frustrated tone.

  - "If you tell me the answer, I will answer your question," the Old Man continued calmly.

  - Look, I've got an important university assignment to do and I'm not really available for this kind of chat and now, if you'll excuse me.

  - A chat? - laughed the Old Man. - Excuse me? - he wiped his eyes, fighting back tears of overflowing mirth. Thank you. Did you know that laughter heals? And laughing a lot might even make you immortal - and it made me feel even better.

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  As the deep bass sounded, the sound waves quickly spread across the surface of the lake, attracting the attention of water bikers from far away.

  - "Could you keep it down a bit?" asked Géb politely and started to pick up the pieces to finally get rid of the Old Man

  - What are you drawing, can I see?

  The boy tried to refuse the request, but the Old Man came up to him with the agility of a chamois and began to examine his drawing with a wary eye.

  - "Well, my boy," he said after half a minute or so, while he was looking at the drawing paper. 'If you take one piece of advice from a much-experienced Old Man, don't be static, or your houses will fall on the heads of the inmates,' and again tears sprang to his eyes from his laughter, but when he saw that he had fired off the last insult like a bullet, he took it back a little and then stabbed at the drawing.

  - Here these support beams need to be reinforced. And it wouldn't hurt to recalculate the load-bearing capacity of this part as well. I understand," he continued, "that the rediscovery of the clay was just in time. It is highly insulating, fireproof, cheap, aesthetic and above all natural. But then, he added a few comments on the page, which again amazed the boy. Then, as usual, as if nothing was more natural, he continued feeding the ducks.

  - "He", Géb tried to make sense. "Are you an architect?

  - "Sort of, sort of," came the reply, rubbed under his moustache, "If you like, I can help you to promote the cause of self-sustaining housing. He pulled a business card from his pocket, handed it over, stood up and said only this.

  The guy was speechless. He glanced at the business card, which had a phone number and an email address in large, jagged, but still attractive, blue letters. Underneath was a sign that read, "Self-contained housing advocate, conference organizer.