52
- 52 -
Daventree sat in the office, alone and at peace.
He’d risen early the last few days, not through troubled sleep but through anticipation of the day’s work, and he always arrived an hour or so before Serran and Lybor showed their faces. Not that they were any less dedicated, of course—they often remained for some time after Daventree called it a day, when the data swirled around his head and he struggled to keep his eyes open.
But he did enjoy this quiet, this opportunity to dedicate himself to each new day’s challenges. They were far more stimulating—and far more involved—than any of his previous tasks.
That was only to be expected, with the running of the Factory effectively residing in this office. Daventree had put in place a system of semi-autonomous departments—
