Even with the best ventilation they can provide, the air is still damp and dirty-feeling this far down the tunnel. Most of the equipment is standing idle, and it is only a skeleton crew which is going through the motions of the longstanding shutdown maintenance regime for the big worm. The wide path of the treads for the worm stop eight feet from the workface and then the damp mixture of silt and gravel is churned up where the huge drilling machine reversed inside the tunnel.
The only two men in ties are standing close together, companiable, chatting, gesturing at the workface. The foreman for the worm's inspection crew comes towards them.
"All right David, hello Mr. Bertuzzo," says the foreman.
"Now then, Harry. How's it going?" says David. David is from Derby.
"All right. Be a shame to say goodbye to the money, but it was a great job while it lasted."
The rough-faced Mr. Bertuzzo laughs.
"Aye," says Mr. Bertuzzo, who hails from York, "that's true."
"Are you two going to be around for the breakthrough ceremony tomorrow?" asks Harry.
"I'm not, but Dave will be," says Mr. Bertuzzo.
"What?" Harry says, "But you're the Chief Engineer! Why aren't you coming?"
"He's got another job opening up in America," says David, opening a pack of chewing tobacco and pointing sideways at Mr. Bertuzzo. "This was a prestigious job for our good doctor."
"That's a shame," says Harry. "Never do a job like this again."
"Aye," says Mr. Bertuzzo, looking wistful.
David spits off to one side of the conversation and taps Harry on the shoulder.
"A word, lad."
The crunch of their feet on the laid-down gravel of the transit path seems loud without the usual background grinding of the digging equipment.
"What do you say," says David, "we nip through tonight? None of them buggers tomorrow will know, and the good doctor here gets to see the fruits of his labour. How far we got?"
"About two feet...I'd say eight inches in places. You're not serious?" Harry is whispering.
"Why not?"
"But the Minister and everyone are coming tomorrow!" his whisper is harsh.
"You know as well as I do that that man has done more for this project than any minister, and it means more to him than it does to them. Tell me you know that, lad."
"Right, but..."
"Your lads done with the worm?"
"Yeah."
"Send 'em packing then."
David wanders over to Mr. Bertuzzo, chewing slowly, his cheek rounded and bulbous with the new tobacco.
"All right?" says David.
"Aye," says Mr. Bertuzzo, just looking at the workface. The whir of the transit train taking the maintenance crew back to the tunnel mouth suddenly fills the space, and in the quiet after its passing there is only Harry's footsteps and a slow, constant murmuring that seems to come from the walls of the tunnel.
"Now then, lad," says David.
Harry is standing in front of the workface with a pick looking worried.
"What the hell are you up to?" asks Mr. Bertuzzo.
Harry grins.
"You know, this is the first time I've actually used a pick?"
Harry swings at the workface and it sinks a little way into the rock. He angles it back and forth and a large piece falls away. Another swing. Another. David and Mr. Bertuzzo watch in silence.
"Hey, I think I'm through," says Harry.
Mr. Bertuzzo and David move closer, and as Harry pulls the pick back the first thing through the tunnel is noise.
"The boys on the other side," says Mr. Bertuzzo, "they're still there!" He is excited.
Harry hacks away at the small hole and pulls back material and chunks of rock until there's a space large enough for a man. David pats Harry's back and ushers him aside.
"After you, doctor," says David.
Mr. Bertuzzo, crouching down, skuffles through the hole and straightens up to find himself in the middle of an arc of workmen, all staring at him. David comes through behind him.
"How do," says David.
Another man in a hard hat and a tie rushes forwards into the arc and grabs Mr. Bertuzzo's hand fiercely and shakes it.
"I know him," says David, "he came to one of the design meetings."
The foreman starts speaking excitedly, gesturing at the workmen and smiling and laughing and David and Mr. Bertuzzo stand awkwardly and smile. After a minute Mr. Bertuzzo bends down and yells back through the hole.
"Here, young Harry!"
"Yes, Mr. Bertuzzo?"
"How's your French?"
"Terrible, Mr. Bertuzzo."
Mr. Bertuzzo straightens up and smiles at the enthusiastic foreman again.
"Maybe we should have thought about that before coming through," says Mr. Bertuzzo.
"Aye," says David.
