Leaning against the wall, the Inspector pauses to examine her prize. The cover of Quaerendo Invenietis features a golden splash that she first takes to be a bird, possibly an eagle or a condor, spread across a vivid red background. Unusually, there is no cover text, but presumably a book printed in a starkly limited edition is already known to those who wish to purchase it. Under closer scrutiny, the condor design is revealed to be not a bird but a necklace or kirtle in a pattern which evokes a tentative connection with South America. Her mind wants to call it an axolotl, but knows that that is something else. A cluster of names gleaned from childhood museum visits jostle in her head: Quetzalcoatl, Tlaloc. She went with her uncle, a scholar. Mazatec? No. Simpler. Quirkier. If she had a connection in here she would already know. Hunter must have lived at one remove after building the Faraday cage, a cognitive shift to an older way of being. She would have come adrift from society to some extent, merely by that choice, just as someone who never travels has a different lived experience from one who spends weekends in Barcelona. How profound was that separation? Enough that Hunter could begin to hate the country around her? Was there something in the arrest, after all?