page0073.mm

<p>Page 73.</p>
<p>I walked to my lab and swiped my way
into the Glass Room. This was not the smartest idea, because I had
been awake for twenty hours and could feel an adrenaline crash
coming. But I didn&rsquo;t want to lie in that room, alone but for a
dead potted plant, staring at the ceiling. I didn&rsquo;t want to
wait for the inevitable ache to begin creeping into muscles I didn&rsquo;t
have. Most of all, I didn&rsquo;t want to think about what I&rsquo;d
just asked Cassandra Cautery to do.</p>
<p>My lab assistants greeted me cordially,
as always. I walked through to Lab 3, switched on the halogen lights,
and lowered the Contours to a comfortable height before the
workstation. Spread across the bench were many very delicate
hand-fabricated metal parts. They didn&rsquo;t look like anything
much at the moment. But this was my hobby, on which I&rsquo;d worked
in between my project work over the last four weeks. As far as anyone
else knew, it was project work. But it wasn&rsquo;t. It was an idea
I&rsquo;d had. A present. I was making Lola a heart.</p>