The vacuum cleaner emitted muted roars as she pushed it to and fro across the carpet, leaving tracks in the fabric. Every now and then it crackled, sucking up some previously invisible dirt. She shoved the cleaner as far under the bed as it could reach.
The engine squealed, and she flicked the off switch with a sigh and a muttered profanity. She lay the machine down and prodded at the obstruction.
A tiny armchair fell to the carpet. It was mangled and crushed, but clearly recognizable. She touched the vacuum cleaner's brush, and her fingers came away red...
Interview: Christopher Priest
16 hours ago