“Saboteurs!” Nigel exclaimed. “Can you believe that? Why would anyone sabotage the Intertubes?”

“I’m not sure, sir,” the messenger said, “but we’re sorting through about ten thousand packets down at the breakage right now.”

“I sent an important message, lad, do you know that? This wasn’t some request for pornography or idle chit chat.”

“I’m aware, sir,” the boy said, not mentioning the fact that he had heard the same story from each person he had visited. “and I assure you that we’ll have it all sorted out within a fortnight.”

“A fortnight! Are you mad? Her Majesty’s skycarrier fleet is about to set forth on the largest campaign of— never you mind that, boy.”

“If there’s nothing else, sir, I have a hundred more of these reports to deliver.” The messenger said, impatiently adjusting his derby cap.

“Yes, go.” Nigel said rudely. “Utumbu, best have William bring the steamwagon around. I’ll need to go see the council in person.”

“Of course, sir,” Utumbu said, wiping a smudge of grease from his nails.