The Writing Lab of Axel Cushing

The next morning found Edward Lewin well removed from the streets of Polaris.  Walmsley felt a bit put out by that fact as he worked on his breakfast.  Still, it showed Lewin was at least smart enough to realize Walmsley wasn’t making idle threats over the dinner table last night.  It would probably make Walmsley’s mission a little more difficult, since Lewin would almost certainly report to the line boss heading for Polaris, but Walmsley had never been promised the job would go smoothly. Chance came up from the basement with a small brass birdcage in one hand.  Inside was a clockwork canary, its polished feathers gleaming as the mechanical head turned randomly and let out ringing little metallic chirps.  She set the cage down on the table with a smile and a flourish.  “Behold, your medicine.” Walmsley cocked his head to one side.  The bird mimicked the motion and chirped twice.  “And what, pray tell, is this?” “The bird will withdraw aether...