Again with the laugh. "That’s the whole point! This is where the logic boards bury and disinter the data!" Waterhouse says. "I’ll show you!" And before Comstock can order him not to, Waterhouse has nodded to a corporal standing at the other end of the room, wearing the protective earmuffs that are generally issued to the men who fire the very largest artillery. That corporal nods and hits a switch. Waterhouse slams his hands over his ears and grins, showing a little too much gum for Comstock’s taste, and then time stops, or something, as all of those pipes come alive playing variations on the same low C.