Benjamin had always been afraid of thunderstorms. Just as Zach fitted the glass chimney into place, Ben stirred, as Zach had known he would. “Father… Oh. You’re right here.” “Where else would I be?” “Working on the device, of course. You waste an awful lot of time sitting here with me, you know.” “I like sitting with you.” Thunder cracked again, and Benjamin reached for his father’s hand, found it, and held tight. “There, now. No need to be afraid, son. You know thunder can’t hurt you.” “That doesn’t make it any less noisy, though,” Benjamin said, quite reasonably. “How much longer will it last, Father? It’s been storming all night.” Zachariah pulled the gold watch from his vest pocket, opened it and then turned its face toward his son. “It’s only 9:08, my boy. It hasn’t been storming all night, only a couple of hours. And it will end any time now, I’m cer—” His words were cut off by the loudest, sharpest crack yet, this one so loud it even made Zachariah jump a bit.
