he workshop was closed.
It was very late
at night, and in the city, the last artificial light blinked off. An
old man stood in the corridor just outside the workshop.
He edged himself
cautiously around a pillar set in the wall and placed his small tool
bag on the floor. He stood still for a moment to catch his breath, and
then beckoned to the shadows for his companion to follow.
A small young girl came around the corner and looked at the locked doors to the workshop.
'Now what?' she queried.
The old man
flicked back a lock of his white hair and picking up his tool bag, he
took out a small black rod and placed it the lock.
There was a
small sharp click and a shower of sparks, followed by a sheet of
gushing, flowing smoke and the door swung open. The young girl smiled
and ran into the workshop, followed closely by the old man.
A flick of a
switch and the room was bathed in a flood of warm golden light. There
were benches covered with sophisticated tools and rows of half-repaired
machines.
The old man
walked up to a plasti-glass case set high in one of the walls. Inside,
there was a set of keys, each with an identification tag. The old man
wrapped a piece of cloth around his hand and viciously punched the
plasti-glass, showering himself in a rain of sharp shards.
The girl looked worried. 'Are you alright?' she asked.
