"The computer's over here," Amy said, but Simon was already sliding into the dusty chair.

The screen came to life when he wiggled the mouse. "Excellent. I can get what we need from here."

Amy hesitated. "Simon... That's not even plugged in."

"Oh." He gave up the pretense of typing, letting the text stream by in a blur, faster than she could read – faster that the processor should have been able to handle.

"You can't even tell anymore, can you?"

He didn't look up. "It's just another way things are connected."

"And you can control it."

"Yes."

Amy frowned, concerned.