Six was still needed.
Rysa showed Iven the clinical demand before he touched the casing. The patients who had come upstairs no longer needed the lower treatment enclosure. They still needed its blower, now feeding a smaller clean space through the upper connection. Moving people had reduced the load. It had not made their lungs well.
“The heavy draw’s down,” she said. “The continuous draw isn’t.”
He checked the machine against the actual demand, then signed the service note. Tera kept the rental assignment beside it. No release, no implication that the first quieter hour gave another office permission to carry the machine away.
The charging clerk had reserved him five minutes on the separately regulated bank.
He sat, ate the last of his breakfast and let her make the coupling. The measure showed a little under one hundred and sixteen usable charges. Rest had done its real work overnight. It had not returned everything he had spent fighting, holding the organ frame and clearing the lower stair.
“Thirty-four,” the clerk said. “At seven a minute. Below the bank limit.”
“Good.”
