The station reminded her of some great creature, its constant machine whir breathing around her as she worked. It appeared to have a will of its own, not subjugated to human thought processes.
She knew it they would come for him, but Herbert refused to listen to her at that point of time.
She felt a lump in her throat, thinking about the machine-operators who could not be rescued from the flood Herbert had not allowed them to go home, since he had to deliver on orders in the following week.
The town was dry once again, and life restored to normalcy. The machines were whirring again, but of their own accord, as if possessed by other-worldly spirits. She was sure they had their own agenda.