ONE:
Big.
The MAP CASE in the FG, popping out of PAYNE’S outstretched grip, falling into the raging inferno belowdecks.
PAYNE howling in pain and outrage.
And SABRE, now standing with one BOOT on his back, the point of her SWORD at the base of his skull.
She looks very willing to end him.
1. SABRE: …not.
2. PAYNE: NO!!!
TWO:
Small. The MAP CASE tumbling down, into the fires below.
NO COPY.
THREE:
Stet, but it’s falling, disappearing into the flames.
NO COPY.
FOUR:
Stet, and the case is gone.
NO COPY.
HAH. So there, Payne
. . . and mate!
Don’t worry, Payne. The map is not the territory. Er, I mean, the map case is not the map.
http://www.idb.arch.ethz.ch/files/borges_on_exactitude_in_science.pdf
This is a steampunk world, he can look forward to months on the bottom of The Glory in a metal helmet with a metal detector pulling up trash from 100’s of years of effluent.
Wonder what Payne will do if Her Ladyship disarms him and lets him go so he can report his failure to The Smoke? That smile on Sabre’s face certainly makes me glad I’m not Payne.