The nearest gauge fell, and Felix nearly took his hand away.
Ruth tapped the second slate.
He left his hand where it was.
“I was admiring the view,” he said.
“Admire the other reading.”
There wasn’t one. The far station’s place on the slate remained blank.
The temporary control bench stood beyond the archive’s sound boundary, with its insulated leads running away from the broken upper wall. After the chamber work, Bera had given Felix a different contact and the unglamorous task of holding the last small balancing flow while the opened gate settled.
The gate was fully open now. Water that had spent years seeking inadequate routes was finding its way through the proper one.
