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"I should say something," says Amie, frowning. "Something - you know - because of my thing."

"Your thing?" asks Bina, who is very tired.

"My um… power," says Amie, despite that being a very embarrassing thing to say.

"Right," says Bina. "Yes. You should."

Amie furrows her brow, thinking. Bina waits and tries not to fidget with the lego, uncomfortably aware that the grainy gritty floor of the factory is beginning to soften, as though the stones and gravel were becoming threadbare, like sagging muslin.

"Take your time," says Bina, trying not to think about the fact that there is nothing beneath them but void and monster.

"They need to be the right words," says Amie. "They won't work if they're not the right words. I can't just say it's going to work…"

"No rush," says Bina, projecting a confidence that is maybe not justified at this point. "We have all the time in the world…"