"Let me just demonstrate!" Waterhouse blurts, and strides out of the room and doesn’t bother looking back. Back in the church, he goes to the console, blows the dandruff off the keys, hits the main power switch. The electric motors come on, somewhere back behind the screen, and the instrument begins to complain and whine. No matter—it can all be drowned out. He scans the rows of stops—he already knows what this organ’s got, because he’s listened and deconstructed. He starts yanking out knobs.