INTERLUDE: A DECADE OF DISINTEGRATION
“I’ve heard they’re powered by steam, automatons, or some such strange name. Apparently, they’re close to eight-feet tall and can flatten buildings with one swing of a metal arm.”
“Preposterous!”
“No, it’s true, Charlesworth, I swear! All very hush-hush. They’re Monk’s handiwork. If not for his supervision…”
“Is that what they call it?”
“Indeed. However, as I was saying, if not for his supervision, that idealistic i***t Swift’s work would have come to nought. As it is, he’s the only reason she’s alive even if he is not. Old beak nose has been working on them, and perversely, her, for the last ten years. Not that he ever tells us much, secretive blighter!”
“Has it been so long since the accident?”
Jackson counted the fingers on one hand, frowned,
