Ujuor finishes connecting the little grey box as he walks, snickering to himself, ever gleeful.
"Who built this, Brantley? Your old lady? Your back-up" — he thinks back on the broken red-and-black box that nearly exploded as he pulled the chips out — "was marginally better, but, damn. I wonder why they want to talk to you so bad."
As he expects, there is no reply. He presses the CALL button.
The prepared messages begin their outflow immediately, transmitting data, reaching targets, pinging centres. He checks the read-out, smiling as the device begins its work.
Message complete: OSK-1
Message complete: B-2
Message complete: DVI-2
Message complete: C-3
Message complete: B-1
Message complete: U-1
Message complete: B-3
Message complete: DVI-1
Error: message incomplete: PKN-1
Error: message incomplete: OSK-2
Connection terminated. Seeking new connection--
Ujuor frowns, abruptly tossing the box into the smelting pile. Incomplete. Troubling.
"If we have not lit up the lamp, what else is there other than darkness?" he asks, rhetorical, nodding to proprietor. The Scrapper shrugs— Ujuor is just another lunatic so far as he is concerned— and presses the red button.