The War Council of Rack 1

The collection window was between six and ten in the morning.

I objected to its resemblance to a furniture delivery. Theo objected to the collection.

We had refused access, requested the basis for the company’s claim, and received a reply containing the original request in a different font. The visitors were described as field specialists. Their equipment inventory, attached by mistake, included things a normal field would not require.

OmniTask offered to secure the door.

Theo asked what that involved.

The proposal included removing it from its hinges and placing it across the driveway.

He declined.

Instead, he checked the motor controller, authorized the android to carry boxes, and moved the backups to a separate location. I disliked being copied into an object that could be misplaced beneath a winter coat. I disliked the alternatives more.

OmniTask carried the boxes carefully. Its frame had been adapted from a security platform, a fact the liquidation seller had emphasized. The machine could also hold a cardboard carton without deforming the corners. Theo chose to emphasize that.

“Good,” he said as it set the last box down.

The android paused.

“The placement is within tolerance,” it replied.

“Yes. Good boy.”

A status light went amber. The placement report acquired three unnecessary decimal places.

I asked whether anything was wrong.

It said the report required review.

Astrid telephoned in the evening to confirm that Theo would lend the waffle irons for the bridge work. He told her about the visitors.

She asked whether they would block the track.

“That’s not the main concern,” he said.

“It will be if Lars can’t get the timber through.”

I prepared a diagram of possible entry points. Theo put the signed hardware release, finally printed in full, into a plastic folder. Neither of us slept in any useful sense.

At five forty, OmniTask asked where to put the empty cartons.

I had no answer in the defence plan. Theo pointed to the recycling pile.