harry’s seen them go from gears and levers to circuits and touch screens and everyone he looks at is a series of controls run amok, a set of frayed wires connected to circuits running for miles bundled up in muscle and flesh with plastered teeth and blunt nails broken. he sees everyone as a series of functions that have been bent by damaged childhood and warped experience, he sees everyone on the verge of rust. and when amanda walks into the room she is just like them, he is just like them, he thinks, we are all like one another, and he’d like to believe that, he’d like to believe he’s just another broken cog in a vast machine. but then amanda suddenly smiles and she tells him there’s no one quite like her in the world, there’s nothing quite like them anywhere to be found.