Swamped

You pointedly glare in the direction of the large graphing device that takes up a third of the tent. The drawing-stick mechanism has gone off the graphing board in several spots and there are markings on the tent itself now.

"That," you say. "Though I can already see it's having problems."

"That's a minor issue," Jeb says. "The parameters on the graph got thrown off, but the actual datasets weren't affected this time, thank Reth."

He doesn't thank the goddess lightly, but you understand his relief. Last time, you had to get the whole camp poring over notebooks for days to get the data back in order.

"So what about fixing up the grapher itself?" you ask.

"There's only one wrench that fits, and Dominique has it," he says. "It'd take a good two hours to get everything back in order, because the damn thing's so big. On top of that, we can run it as-is if we really need to, it'll just mark up the tent a bit. So Dominique got priority on the wrench."

"I'll see if she's done with it when I check in on her," you say, making a note about it. "Is there anything else you need?"