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John took deep satisfaction in this thought.
    “Artefacts such as the soldier – anomalies that seem superfluous but must meet some obscure buried need – provide an excellent opportunity to study the Process,” said Alex.
    “And people, too,” said Omega John. “The Process is entirely responsive to people. It monitors and meets the needs of the people within it. Once sufficient data has been gathered on their past behaviour, it can infer, with increasing accuracy, future outcomes, future lives. People are evicted before they can create problems. The question is, does the Process manipulate the data set – that is, the people – to meet future needs that we are not yet cognizant of?”
    James could not follow Omega John’s reasoning; he was distracted by the malformed and botched arrangement of skull at the back of his head.
    “What have you been doing to your brain?” asked James.
    “I have undergone forty-eight procedures,” said Omega John. “Twenty voluntary, twelve of them vindictive. Fifteen were subsequently corrective; one, performed a long time ago, was particularly traumatic. My former rivals in the Institute took puerile delight in rearranging the regions of my global workspace.”
    “His mind,” clarified Alex.
    “And these pranks–” he pronounced the word with weary contempt “–had physiological side effects, particularly in the regulation of hormones.”
    “You’re doing brain surgery for a joke?” asked James.
    Alex’s eyelids flickered, and she put her hand up to stop that train of thought.
    “It’s play, James. One of the characteristics of augmented intelligence is a love of play and the use of games to access insight.”
    “Is that what happened to your eye? Did someone play with it?”
    “Without upgrades I would be out of the loop. As a manager, I have to be able to comprehend the research that goes on here, and the adjustment to our working practices brought about by augmentation has produced palpable gains in our understanding of the Process.”
    “And potentially even how to interact with it.” The excitement that Omega John took in this prospect was evident in the way his fingers dithered.
    “But the augmentations have left us physically deficient. That is why Omega John and I would like you to help us.”
    “I already have a role within the Process.”
    “We are not asking you to alter your role as bailiff. We want you to look after Hector, monitor him, report back as the Process gets stronger within him.”
    “It might be dangerous.”
    Alex took his hand. “It will be dangerous for everyone if the Process continues to produce these simulacra. An army will exceed the carrying capacity of the surroundings.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “She is suggesting that the Process may utilize local low value resources in its recreation,” said Omega John. His clarification did not help James’ understanding, and noticing this, he wearily attempted the obvious. “We don’t know how big its war will get. It may use the town and its inhabitants as raw materials.”
    Alex gripped his hand. “Omega John calls me irrational but I have a feeling that these things have a tendency to get out of hand.”
    “It is only when things get out of hand that they get interesting,” said Omega John. He gathered his sheet around his emaciated marbled form. “Look after John Hector, bailiff. He is very important to us.” Omega John made painfully slow progress from the Round Room.
    Alone with Alex, James asked her what the Institute intended to do with the other soldiers that had been found
    “Nothing,” said Alex. “Not until you’ve spent some time with Hector. The soldiers are beyond the influence of the Process here. To study the Process’ intentions in creating Hector, we need to observe his behaviour. Take him back to Lewes. Keep him close. Tell us what he does.”
    She led him out of the house and up a path to the Orangery where orderlies drank tea and the soldiers sat