The further she went, the more the stalls and crowd changed. The food market, with its mob of scruffy unemployed, was at the Bridge’s entrance. Next came hardware and tools: blowtorches, paint, ladders. Onward, the surroundings became more industrial. One stall had a broken analytical engine on display, the cracked brass sheet locked inside an armor-glass container guarded by a buzzing aerostat. The small ship’s mylar body reflected its environs as it hovered, its needle weapon aimed at any shopper who wandered too close.