Elara saved the file. She closed SilverFast 9. She looked at the manual, which now seemed thinner, less absolute.

She picked up Dr. Veles’s letter. On the back, in the same red ink, was a postscript:

She never told anyone about the sigils. But every time she launched SilverFast, she swore she heard Gretel humming a tune from 1938.

The lights in the sub-basement flickered. Gretel’s scanning drum began to spin, not at its usual 1500 RPM, but faster. A low hum became a high-pitched hymn.