A light sweat spread across his chest, a rush of heat it took him a moment to recognize as pleasure. He looked from the screen to the paper, the paper back to the screen, and was aware of himself sitting in the middle, between them, the means whereby one had become the other. The press of the schedule eased. Herring’s mutterings faded. The buzz of the lights silenced themselves. You are doing it, said a little voice in his head. You are building the system. From nothing, he thought. From scratch.

He printed an image of the screen, then pinned both sheets of paper—the original drawing, its completion in the screen image—over his desk where he would see them every day. To remind himself: that he was doing it, he was building the system. In only eight months, under his hand, it had already changed state, become actual, functioning, real. From Harry’s head to Ethan’s running code: thought that worked.