Excerpt
He did not fit.
The doorway from the Oratory stairs to the kitchen measured six feet three inches. She had noted this four years ago, when Henri brought the drafting table through it sideways, swearing amiably at the iron frame. The body she had activated eleven hours ago did not clear it.
His left shoulder caught the doorframe on the first attempt. He stopped. Looked at the frame. Looked at his shoulder. Looked at the frame again.
She made a note in the journal she had been carrying since he sat up.
Spatial calibration: incomplete.
Overestimates clearance by four centimeters.
Favors left side.
“Duck,” she said.
He looked at her.
“Lower your head when you come through. The frame will not move.”
