the smuggler’s bible


There are fourteen little buttons on the control panel. Most of which (Florian has determined through nervewracking practical trials) do nothing at all when depressed.

One has been filed under ‘uncertain application’ because he thinks he heard a thud somewhere when it was triggered. Four others remain untested. They have an evil aura, and Florian breaks into a sweat just looking at them.

“We have to do the whole board. It’s our job.”

“What do you mean we?”

“Come, now,” Florian’s boss says over the intercom, watching through six inches of tempered glass, “you know we’re all in this together.”