He looked down at the Nagoor Kani book. It wasn't a relic of academic torture. It was a map of a hidden country. The formulas were the language, but the analysis —the true analysis—was a kind of intuition. A feeling for the silent, furious dance of megawatts.

Everyone else had laughed. Arjun had scribbled.

Arjun opened his eyes. The grid was breathing again.