The rooftops of Trinity College were a maze of greenhouses and spires and bird coops and observatories, weather vanes and lightning rods and barometers and rain-catchers, as well as dozens of structures and devices whose purposes were not so readily deduced.

In a secluded corner, almost entirely blocked in by outcropping ateliers and turrets, Ada sat alone. It had been a week since the night of the thunderstorm, since she'd woken up to find herself slumped face-first against the chair in the lounge. She'd been sitting with her back to a wall for the last half hour, but now Ada stood, her heart beginning to beat faster, the palms of her hands damp with sweat. She pushed her glasses up, then, feeling just a little silly, held both hands out in front of herself.

There was a burst of light, and a sharp crack, and Ada was looking up at the pale blue sky above, the rough dirty surface of the roof beneath her, a crisp tingling sensation coursing through her body. She didn't feel hurt, except where she'd hit her head against the ground, just slightly numb and suddenly tired. Slowly Ada got to her feet, noticing then that she wasn't wearing her glasses any more—she found them a few metres away, a little scuffed but otherwise undamaged.

Metal, Ada thought as she looked at them, ignoring the sudden pang of hunger she felt. Like a lightning rod. She set her glasses down, frowning a little as she tried to get her hands to work properly, then knelt beside them and tentatively reached out a single finger.

So now what, she thought. How do—

There was a living creature squirming deep in her stomach, a giant snake slithering through her veins. She gasped out, her arm jerking as a bright spark of lightning flew from her finger and into the metal frame of her glasses. Ada yelped as she felt a swell within her, like her body was going to expand until it popped—she pushed herself up and staggered, bent over as sudden nausea hit, then screamed as her arms and legs stiffened, crackling energy bursting forth from her hands—

When Ada woke it was dark. She was cold, and hungrier than she'd ever been, and so tired she could barely move. When she eventually managed to push herself up she found that her arms and legs were stiff and sore, her muscles aching like she'd been lifting heavy cages all day. She shuffled over to where her glasses lay and picked them up with shaking hands, trying to fight the dizziness she felt, then she made her way back to her apartment, where she ate an entire loaf of bread so quickly that she got a painful case of the hiccups, which didn't stop her from going on to consume four green apples, two slightly stale cinnamon buns, half a block of thick chocolate and almost an entire cold roast chicken. After all that she felt bloated and a bit sick, and also incredibly thirsty—she guzzled most of a large jugful of cold apple tea before she felt satisfied. By this point she could barely move, but she managed to stagger out of the kitchen and into the lounge, where she collapsed on a couch, asleep within seconds.