He worked slowly. Not because he’d forgotten how—his hands still knew the dance of lock washer, flat washer, nut—but because he wanted to savor it. Page 4: attach stabilizer bar. Page 7: route the data cable before sealing the lower casing. Page 11 (red ink, underlined twice): “The left pedal crank is reverse-threaded. If you force it clockwise, you will strip it. Ask me how I know.”
Arthur stared. He had written this twenty years ago, when Liam was ten, as a joke for a prototype manual that was never published. But here it was, photocopied and preserved. Exergear X10 Cross Trainer Manual BETTER
The original Exergear manual was a legend of corporate incompetence: blurry diagrams, steps like “Attach part F (see Fig. 2a–2z) to the main bracket via unspecified fastener,” and a warning that read “Do not over-torque the phalangeal coupler” (a part that didn’t exist). People had returned the X10 in droves, calling it “Satan’s erector set.” He worked slowly
Liam was a software engineer for a fitness startup. He spoke in agile sprints and user interfaces. Arthur spoke in foot-pounds and cast iron. They hadn’t spoken in eight months—not since Arthur had called Liam’s “connected gym” a “treadmill for people who are afraid of sidewalks.” Page 7: route the data cable before sealing the lower casing
Liam laughed. “Deal.”