"Here we go," said a woman’s husky voice in Verity’s ear. Glancing to her right, toward what would have been the voice’s source had anyone been there, Verity inadvertently gave whoever was controlling the cursor a view of the living room. "Got a hoarding issue, Gavin?" the voice asked, the cursor having settled on the miniature junkyard of semi-disassembled vintage electronics on Joe-Eddy’s workbench.