Silent Defect

At eight o'clock precisely, Instructor Mercer pulled the canvas shroud from the first fault engine with a crisp snap.

Then the second.

Then the third.

Then the fourth.

Benjamin Hale leaned forward, his hands resting on the edge of Bench Three, waiting for the demonstration.

Nothing happened.

The four twin-cylinder Model One engines sat silently on their wheeled service dollies beneath the gas lamps. Their brass radiators gleamed. Their copper fuel lines ran clean and unbent from the overhead feed pipes. Their spark plugs were threaded into the iron heads, and their crankcase inspection doors were shut tight.

Samuel Croft peered around Benjamin's shoulder, scratching his whiskers. "Well, Mercer? Are you going to tell us what broke?"

Mercer took his time folding the heavy canvas square into a neat oblong. "No."

"You told us yesterday that every engine on the line carries an active defect," Croft said.

"That is correct."