CHAPTER 11Mara cranked away at the little wheel mounted on the right side of the black porcelain sewing machine. The needle jogged up and down, punching through the edge of the canvas bag, dragging the black thread through the material, creating a row of perfect stitches that sealed the top closed. At the client’s home, when she had picked up the device, it would not crank, and the needle was jammed up somehow. Now it worked perfectly, and all Mara had done was move it and unpack it. It had been weeks since she had physically repaired something. Now, it seemed, all she had to do was touch a broken device, and it would repair itself. It was taking all the fun out of her job. She’d have to ask Ping what to do about it.
Once she had completed feeding the canvas bag through the sewing machine
