Standing At The Edge, Stanley Wiggs-Cracknell

‘He has no drinking problem, his wife passed peacefully away and though much loved still her memory only gives him something to live up to. There is no hint, not one - of dark deeds and rules he would most certainly allow are an inspiration, not an enemy. Cast him out and with certainty then, he disgraces our whole profession.’

‘If no man might discern the meaning of the great engine that drives The Swoop then perhaps by its peculiarities something of its process may be discerned. Each note, a clue. Each shuddering hiss, evidence. Each space filled and each unlikely land crossed, a confession. We need neither magician nor engineer – this gentlemen, is work for a Diviner!’

‘Your barge, your Swoop - if a living thing, is not living in the manner of those alive. You live within corridors of angles of your own and fearfully made order. I suspect all regularity. I distrust repetition. The Swoop will fly because I pursue it, because I do not understand it and by no attempt to the contrary it knows here as I am deep in its mechanical bowels that I come close to it. It flees, that much I divine.'