"Wilson? Okay. Yes? Understood. Put him on." She sat cross-legged now, at the very edge of the slab. "Hullo. Yes." Silence. "I’d need to dress for it, the chartreuse vest, reflective stripes." Silence. "Kawasaki. GT550. Bit tatty for the job, but if the box is new, should do. Benny can bolt anything on. Have the manufacturer’s URL? I could measure it for you, otherwise. I’ve already put it together. Haven’t tested it." A longer silence. "Organ transplants, plasma? Autopsy bits?" Silence. "Send over enough of that precut foam from a camera shop, the throw-away-the-bits kind. I doubt vibration would do it much good at all, but Benny and I can sort that. Yes. I will. Thank you. Could you put Hubertus back on, please? Thanks." She cleared her throat. "Well," she said, "we do seem very busy, suddenly. Benny can bodge your box on, but I’ll need new dampers. This drone won’t travel as nicely, I don’t think. Different sort of moving parts. Yes. He did. He was very clear. Bye, then."