“We do our practical work in here,” says Orrant, stepping off onto a new piston as his sinks past it. “Unlock the weight to your left, won’t you?”
Stella pops the catch and pulls; the freed column wheels clockwise.
“How long did this–is it–what are we cogitating now?” she says breathlessly.
“Pneurology’s a very young field.” Orrant surveys the vast, hissing works. Stella can barely see the walls of the hangar. “Our calculations aren’t very advanced–”
“Well, I’m on a one,” he taps his piston, “and you’re on a one, and the gentleman over there is a plus.”