When the plane skidded onto the landing field, the entire structure quivered, a tremor hinting at rupture. Claudia perched on a side bench, gripping the seat tightly to keep from toppling. When they stopped, the air filled with dust and the smell of the liquid they used to power the machines.

  The north was frigid, yet no snow was seen. She wanted to see snow. She even desired, for just once, to feel the freeze in her fingertips; the chill air on her face. Engines exhaled mist all around. Not only engines rattled on mindless machines, but also in self-reliant ones. Small and big, some resembling insects, others almost humanoid. The airfield was a buzzing nest of metal and circuits. No living humans whatsoever. Herjard was a world of machines, nothing else.

  Claudia had once been a lead on such research, but seeing how it could change the world, how it would turn it so ugly, she felt relieved not to have driven the development further.

  She was ushered into a huge hangar. Inside, machines crowded more tightly than the outside world, resembling an industrial maze. As she advanced, metallic limbs and spidery appendages brushed past her, pushing her to dodge her way towards a stark chamber illuminated by harsh light. In its heart rested a solitary operation bed. Beside it, a lantern pole leaned against a battered tray strewn with surgical implements, while a nearby workbench overflowed with makeshift tools: an odd mix for any place in the world except there.

  Victor plodded to a further table, where a few boxes were lined up for display. Batteries, Claudia thought. He eyed each with intent, then turned his expressionless face at her.

  "You can choose the one that best suits your needs."

  Claudia stood in the doorway, reluctant to step in. "I think we should go directly to Brojn."

  "We're already in the capital, only a few miles away. No worries, when we are done here, we will drive you to the city center."

  There was no real choice for her but to comply with what Herjard demanded. She strode towards the table. She discarded the first two batteries with a glance. They weren't powerful enough for her plan. The third lacked a modulation device that was critical for the discharge limiter, so she ignored it as well.

  She took a tool and adjusted the regulator of the next battery in line.

  "I don't like to waste my time," She said, trying to get Victor's attention on what she was saying instead of what she was going to do.

  "What are you doing?" Victor asked.

  "Improving efficiency," She lied.

  The discharge limiter had to deliver a single pulse at her command. A short-lived, overclocked spike of energy, aimed to be funneled straight into a little box on her chest. The housing of a laser beam detonator to her, but just harmless, uninteresting old node to others.

  "This model is the only one I can use." She added. "The power delivery is substandard, but with some recalibration, I won't die. Feel free to check my adjustments."

  She unplugged herself from the sphere, pretending a struggle, and connected her cable to the new battery.

  The new battery hummed, a crude imitation of the one she had.

  As soon as her source of power was free of her, an aversion crafted in the same way as Victor but ridiculously dressed in the white coat of a doctor, lurched forward.

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  It inspected the sphere meticulously. Claudia stepped forward on instinct, only to be shoved back by a second automaton whose bulk was armored like a boiler tank.

  “Careful,” she said, her voice sharper than intended. “That artifact is delicate.”

  “We know,” Victor said, tone flat but somehow mocking in its politeness. “Please, lie down on the bed.”

  He gestured toward the operation divan. Claudia resisted the urge to comply. The tools around it were not made for flesh but for alloys and wires, for breaking things open and welding them shut.

  As she moved to the center, more machines rushed to gather around the sphere. Those were nothing resembling humans. Jointed arms rotated around to find gaps for inspection. Heads filled with lenses and antennas whobbled to find a space to see. They murmured in a chorus of whirs and pneumatic sighs, their language, if any, incomprehensible.

  “We are wasting time,” Claudia said. “The sphere contains nothing they don’t already know. You could have me in the city center already.”

  Victor folded his hands with stiffness. His fake eyes stared without blinking. “Efficiency and precision are the Empire’s motto.”

  She smiled with a calculated intent.

  The machines hummed, as if acknowledging Victor's words. One by one, they left, until the puppet doctor returned the sphere to Claudia's bag.

  “Inspection results." The doctor said. "Output: steady energy flow. — Enrichment: absent. — Reaction cascade: impossible. — Conclusion: Power source. Stable. No danger detected.”

  Victor approached the divan, his limbs squeaking faintly as he bent. “Please. Lie down. You understand what comes next.”

  HERE

  Claudia let herself sit, but not lie down. Even with her superior mind and proven calculations, doubt of failure was real. From that moment onward, every contingency seemed sealed; no misstep could avert disaster. Her hands would vanish, leaving her helpless to repair a failed design or help her escape.

  Victor's head tilted. “Is there a problem?”

  She did not answer, but reclined.

  From the far end of the chamber, another machine detached itself from the shadows. Not a man shape but more of a sphere with many arms. A factory tool for assembly, or, in her case, disassembly.

  “Can’t you simply disable my hands?” she asked. “That'd be a less radical approach. Less…. barbaric.”

  Victor’s chuckle crept; almost human, almost kind. “Well, you said you don’t like to waste time, didn’t you?”

  Tools whirred to life. A round saw spun, its sound chilling. A little flame, blue and intense, darted forward.

  “Very well,” she said. The leather groaned beneath her weight. “But at least allow me to keep one of the hands, so I can make calibrations on the battery if necessary. The one that has a gun is no threat after you remove any ammunition.”

  Victor leaned close, his smooth mask of a face reflecting the lamplight. “You look scared. But you don't feel fear, do you? Maybe you are still chained to your human side. Maybe you have reached the ultimate step of designed humanity… I wonder."

  The saw spun harder. Victor's head tilted to the other side in a sudden motion. "Should we… open and see? I'd like to see."

  "Do that and you'll break your Master's heart. He really wants to see us, and you know it."

  Victor jerked back as if lightning had struck him. "Oh dear. Yes… dear, dear. Oh, dear. We can't do that."

  The surgical machine stilled, its trembling chassis settling. A polished lens focused on Victor, awaiting the next command.

  "I'm not sure the Maker has a heart anymore, but what I'm certain of is that he has a terrible temper when he doesn't get what he wants." Victor looked at the surgeon. "Just the hands."