‘Ben.’ Ben turns to see the doctor standing a few feet away. ‘I was there. I saw how bad it was. You will not survive.’

‘You survived,’ Ben says bluntly, turning back to watch Malcolm and Konrad adjust the poles while Roland thumbs the tablet device to life.

‘Okay,’ Malcolm says as Ben hears the low thrumming sound coming from the speakers that show red lights flashing on. A second later and the blue light is there as beautiful and mesmerising as it was before.

‘Where’s the water then?’ Ben asks, looking round the room, then at Roland.

‘We’re not set to that point,’ Malcolm says. ‘We’re on the settings from the last time I used it.’

‘Get to the . . . where Safa and Harry are . . . make it go there.’

‘Ben,’ Malcolm says, swallowing with a nervous glance at the blue light. ‘Waves will come crashing through that window with a force that will take everyone off their feet. We barely escaped when the yacht came through.’

‘But you did survive,’ Ben points out. ‘Make it go to Safa and Harry.’

‘You are not listening,’ Roland says.

‘You brought them back once so we can do it again.’

‘Not from there,’ the doctor says urgently. ‘The waves were ten metres high at least.’

‘Okay.’ Ben looks round at the faces staring at him. ‘Everyone keeps telling me I am not listening. Safa kept saying it all the time. This time you are not listening, but you will fucking listen and take this in. I am going to bring them back. You are going to make that window at the point it needs to be. I am going through it. I am no good here. You need Safa and Harry, not me. If you do not do this I will start hurting people.’ He pauses, making sure the words are going in. ‘But please . . . please do not make me do that. Help me. Work with me. Tell me what I need to do. Make this work.’

Silence in the room, but a shift in energy tells him the cogs are slowly turning as Malcolm glances towards Roland.

‘Help me . . . please . . . you need Safa more than you need anyone else here . . . and that includes you.’ He points at Roland. ‘What use am I?’ Ben pushes on, desperate to make them understand. ‘Harry beat me because I was shit and wouldn’t listen or do what they said. I was going to be sent back and killed anyway, right?’ Ben asks them all. ‘Right?’ A few nods, reluctant but honestly given. ‘So fuck it . . . please let me try. Please . . .’

‘Roland?’ Malcolm asks, clearly showing that he wants to do it but giving way and allowing the final say to go to Roland, who rubs his wrist and stares at Ben.

‘Fine,’ he grunts. ‘It’s your death.’

‘Thank you,’ Ben says with real meaning. ‘What do I need to know?’