A young man in a grease-stained uniform stepped up, sliding a across the counter."Barely used," the boy muttered. "I just need enough for the electric bill."Arthur checked the battery and the torque. Tools were good bread-and-butter items. They were honest. He counted out the bills, and the boy vanished back into the rain.

The neon sign for "Miller’s Exchange" hummed with a low, electric anxiety, flickering every time the heavy streetcar rattled past. Inside, Arthur sat behind a fortress of reinforced glass, his eyes magnifying behind thick lenses as he studied the tray in front of him.

He flipped the sign to Closed . He had bought a drill, a memory, and a song today. To the world, it was just inventory. To Arthur, it was the weight of the city, held safely behind glass until the morning light.