the smuggler’s bible

Luton

It’s clever the way the little joints all move together to give the limb flexibility. The company rep says it can rotate in the socket twice—seven-twenty, swear to god—before it has to reset to keep some of the hydraulics from tangling.

“No. I hate it,” Luton says. “It creeps me out.”

“It’s not for fun. It’s your job.”

Luton looks at the thing slantwise and shivers. “Well, how come night shift doesn’t have to use spider bots?”

“They’re night shift, son.” The line manager shrugs. “They’ve got enough reasons to be prickly without us giving them nightmares, too.”