“I never presumed it was . . .” Isaac began, but Yagharek twitched his head impatiently, and Isaac was silent.

“Many nights I spend in silence and alone, but there are other times I talk to those with minds still sharp under a patina of alcohol and loneliness and drugs.” Isaac wanted to say, “I’ve said we could work out a place for you to stay,” but he stopped himself. Isaac wanted to see where this was heading. “There is a man, an educated, drunken man. I am not sure he believes me real. He may think me a recurring hallucination.” Yagharek breathed deeply. “I spoke to him about your theories, your crisis, and I was excited. And the man said to me . . . the man said to me ‘Why not go all the way? Why not use the Torque?’ “

There was a very long silence. Isaac shook his head in exasperation and disgust.

“I am here to put the question to you, Grimnebulin,” Yagharek continued. “Why do we not use the Torque? You are trying to create a science from scratch, Grimnebulin, but Torquic energy exists, techniques to tap it are known . . . I ask as an ignorant, Grimnebulin. Why do you not use the Torque?”

Isaac sighed very deeply and kneaded his face. Part of him was angry, but mostly he was just anxious, desperate to put a stop to this talk immediately. He turned to the garuda, and held up his hand.

“Yagharek . . .” he began, and at that moment, there was a bang on the door.

“Hello?” a cheerful voice yelled. Yagharek stiffened. Isaac leapt to his feet. The timing was extraordinary.

“Who is it?” yelled Isaac, bounding down the stairs.

A man poked his face round the door. He looked amiable, almost absurdly so.

“Hullo there, squire. I’ve come about the construct.”

Isaac shook his head. He had no idea what the man was talking about. He glanced up behind him, but Yagharek was invisible. He had stepped out of sight away from the edge of the platform. The man in the doorway handed Isaac a card.

NATHANIEL ORRIABEN’S CONSTRUCT REPAIRS AND REPLACEMENTS it said. QUALITY & CARE AT REASONABLE RATES.

“Gent came in yesterday. Name of . . . Serachin?” suggested the man, reading from a sheet. “Told us his cleaning model . . . um . . . EKB4C was playing up. Thought it might have a virus and whatnot. I was due tomorrow, but I’ve just come back from another job local and I thought I’d chance that someone was in.” The man smiled brightly. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his oily coveralls.

“Right,” said Isaac. “Um . . . Look. Not the best time . . .”