Location:Wild Confederacy — The Northern Flats, The Bore Site
Date/Time:TC1858.02.20 – TC1858.02.24
From anywhere on the deck, Silas could see how much of the rack was left.
When the rig went up, it had been full, tier on tier of string laid crosswise in its cradles, the iron gone blue-black with the cold. Every morning the frost furred it white, and the winch crew brushed it off with their mittens before they coupled the next length. Now the bottom tier was all there was. Three lengths lay in it, with a gap beside them where yesterday's had been, and above them the bare cradles held nothing but frost, like shelves in a shop that had sold out and not reordered.
He'd counted them before he was properly awake. He counted them again, standing at the collar with his right arm strapped across his chest and nothing to do with his left except hold his coat closed at the throat.
Three. He'd have known it with his eyes shut.
