Norman’s van was as inconspicuous as they come, off-white with a nondescipt logo on the side, and not even “clean me” marked in the dirt on the back. The casual obeserver’s eye slid right off it without stopping.

Katie lay inside, surrounded by technology. Everywhere she looked there were gadgets and gizmos neatly stacked. In the middle of it all was the bed upon which she lay. She was dressed much as she had been when Frank had walked in on her and Charlotte. This time, though, it was Norman who stroked her tummy. He reached for some gel and squirted it on her. It was cold.

“Let’s get a look at you then,” he murmured under his breath as he placed the ultrasound head on her and swept it about. “Right. This,” he indicated a bright circle to her on the screen, “is the core device and these little fibres are its connection to you.” She made a frightened sound in her throat. “It’s not fully attached yet, though; we should be able to get it out. As long as it thinks it’s safe, at any rate.”