He closed the door and made his way to the “office”. The usual bustle of the street surrounded him, closed over him, and sealed him in his own private world. He meandered through the thronging customers of the street market which could be found there every Wednesday morning.

Nodding to the guard who tipped his hat as he passed, he made his way across the courtyard. His heart grew heavier with every step toward the building which he had learned to hate. In the beginning it had been a challenge. Complex mathematical problems with interesting electrical engineering to be done. Of course, now it was mass production and almost assembly-line construction. The glamour had gone, the shine had worn off; all that was left was a feeling of a long hard slog towards the end. An end which everyone hoped for but noone could see. Even from out here he could hear the clicking, smell the ozone and oil.

Bracing himself, he pulled open the dilapidated wooden door and entered hut 11.