The shift whistle blows on the garage’s lone speaker, the sound tinny and cracking. There’s a flutter of laughter as the workers lay down their tools and stand away from their stations. In the center of the garage stands a seven-foot frame vaguely in the shape of a human being. The panels protecting the interior parts have been removed, exposing hydraulic lines and wiring. Milo is focused on the voltages reported by a multi-meter and ignores the whistle.

Someone taps him on the shoulder—Rania, the team’s welder. She wears blue coveralls like everyone else in the garage, and her dark hair is pulled back into a bun today, exposing the gills on her neck. They flutter when she talks. “Shift’s over.”

“Almost done,” Milo says.

Rania doesn’t hesitate to pull the plug on the mulit-meter, and the dials drop to zero.

“Hey! I’m not finished.”

“Yes, you are,” Rania says. “It’s time to go home.”

“I just need a minute more,” Milo says, reaching for the cord.

Rania holds it out of reach. “The last time you said that, you were here until three in the morning.”

“Yes, well, I can explain that.”

“You were a blurry-eyed monster the next day,” Rania says.

“It was necessary,” Milo says.

“It was inefficient,” Rania says.

The rest of the team gathers to watch the familiar banter. They’re in good spirits, but after a twelve-hour shift, their numbers are tired and out of focus. All except for Rania. She’ll continue to badger Milo until he has no choice but to go home.

“All right,” he says, relenting. “Let’s call it a day.”

“Thanks, boss,” Rania says.

Milo stands and joins the team—his team—in forming a circle around the frame, an exoskeleton for people who are paralyzed or don’t have full use of their arms or legs. Codenamed the Lion, Mr. Groud had put Milo in charge after seeing his engineering skills at work.

A thick power cable connects the Lion to the factory’s generators. Milo’s team hasn’t cracked the battery problem yet, so the Lion’s range is limited to the length of the cable. If there were transmission towers like back home, the issue would be moot, but Mr. Groud hadn’t been keen on the idea of getting into the electrical utility business. He said he’d think about it, but Milo wonders if there’s a way to speed up the process—

“Boss,” Rania says, exasperated.

“Sorry, just thinking,” Milo says. He joins hands with the others and together they yell, “Good night, our Lion!”

The circle breaks as the team gets ready to go home. Rania hangs back to help Milo clean up. She smirks when Abdullah, their machinist, is the first out the door.

“You’d think his feet were on fire,” she says.

“Now, now. He has cause,” Milo says.

Abdullah’s wife is pregnant, and Blue pregnancies are notoriously difficult. The fetuses will sometimes grow claws or spines, endangering both mother and child. Luckily, a well-to-do uncle is helping the family pay for doctors and tests, but that doesn’t stop Abdullah from worrying.

“His wife isn’t the first Blue to get pregnant. No use telling him that though.” Rania clears her throat. “If it were me, I wouldn’t be fussy about it, and all my children would be healthy. I’m sure of it.”

“He does good work,” Milo says, protesting on Abdullah’s behalf.

“I won’t deny it,” Rania says, sighing. “I just wish his mind wasn’t so elsewhere. This work is important, boss. It’s a revolution. Right here, right now, we’re changing No Town. Hells, we’re changing Dawrtaine. And no one knows it’s happening except for us and Groud and Bagouti.” She puts her hand on his. “And it’s because of you. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

Milo pulls away, embarrassed. “We’re a team,” he says.

“We are, that’s true,” Rania says, “but the truth has many shapes, so… thank you.”

“You’re, ah, welcome,” Milo says. He glances around the garage, but everyone else has already gone and everything’s in order. Time to go.

At the door, the mathematical model for Rania kicks up a prediction—with a confidence of 68.32 percent—that she’ll invite him to dinner. He’s been to her and her sister Miriam’s house twice, and while he enjoyed the meals, it wouldn’t do to show favoritism to anyone on the team.

“I have research to do at the library,” he says, preempting the invitation, “and then I’m headed to the Goat for dinner with the General and Noor.”

“Is that right?” Rania says. “Sounds like a full evening. Just don’t stay too long at the library. It’s not polite to keep friends waiting.”

“I won’t,” Milo says. He knows that with 100 percent certainty. The library staff are very good about kicking out patrons at closing time.

Rania wishes him a good night before heading home, while Milo stays behind to keep the guard at the door company. The garage is located in the factory’s subbasement, and it often takes the night guard a few extra minutes to arrive. After Milo signs off on the exchange, he takes the elevator to Mr. Groud’s office to turn in his keys.

Mrs. Bagouti is at her desk. She takes the keys and looks at him up and down. “No tea with the Scholar?”

“I have research to do,” Milo says, shaking his head. “And he’s canceled the last four months in a row. Maybe next time.”

“That’s well,” she says, locking the keys in the office safe. “Have a good night, Milo.”

“Good night, Mrs. Bagouti.”

Outside, the sun is down and the night chilly. Milo puts his hands in his pockets and walks out the factory gate. Old Man Hussam is set up to sell atayef to the workers on their way home. He smiles when he sees Milo and hands him two pastries, one for now and one for later, but Milo eats both by the end of the street.

He hails a Red pulling a two-wheeled carriage. The cabby’s name is Zaid, and he’s willing to take Milo to the library Stoneside and back for 50 dirham. It’s a good deal given that Zaid will have to wait by the exit. Gloop aren’t allowed inside the library.