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having stuff delivered and I thought you … you might like some help.’
    ‘That’s very kind of you.’ Mr Lazarus turned his head for a moment and studied Kip. Kip had the unpleasant sensation that he was being scrutinised by somebody who knew everything that went on inside his head. Mr Lazarus waved a hand at an open toolbox. ‘Grab yourself a screwdriver,’ he said. ‘You can help me tighten this track.’
    Kip picked up a screwdriver.
    ‘Er … what do you want me to—?’
    ‘Just tighten all the fittings,’ Mr Lazarus told him. ‘There mustn’t be the slightest movement in any of it.’
    Kip did as he was told and found that the strangely-shaped screwdriver fitted perfectly into the strangely-shaped screw heads.
    ‘What
is
this thing?’ he asked, mystified.
    Mr Lazarus paused long enough to look at him. ‘This,’ he said, with a flourish of a gloved hand, ‘is the Lazarus Enigma.’ And with that he went back to work.
    ‘I see,’ said Kip. ‘That’s … great.’ He thought for a moment. ‘And what exactly does the Lazarus Enema—’
    ‘Enigma!’
    ‘Yes. What exactly does it do?’
    Mr Lazarus sighed. ‘It is my own invention. It does many things but one of its main purposes is to … enhance film.’
    ‘Enhance it,
how?
’
    ‘Films shown using this apparatus look sharper, clearer, more lifelike. It improves sound quality too.’
    ‘Wow. Like digital?’ asked Kip, but Mr Lazarus made a face as though somebody had just shoved an unpleasant-tasting sweet into his mouth.
    ‘Don’t mention that word,’ he growled. ‘That’s nothing to do with cinema.’
    ‘But everybody says it’s the future,’ said Kip.
    ‘Pah! I speak of
real
cinema. The miracle that happens when millions of still images are fed through a shutter at twenty-four frames a second. Digital is an abomination. I will have nothing to do with it!’
    ‘But Dad says—’
    ‘You know,’ said Mr Lazarus, ‘we will get more done if we talk less.’
    Kip took the hint and went on with his screw tightening. As he did so, he took the opportunity to glance around the cramped confines of the room and he noticed, amongst all the boxes and cases, an ancient folding bed propped up against one wall.
    ‘What’s the bed for?’ he asked.
    Mr Lazarus sighed and paused in his work.
    ‘When somebody gets to my age, occasionally it is nice to have a little lie down,’ he said.
    Kip studied him for a moment.
    ‘I wanted to ask you about that,’ he said, ‘about your age, I mean.’
    Now Mr Lazarus turned and looked at Kip, a sardonic smile on his face.
    ‘Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a question like that?’ he said.
    Kip felt his face reddening.
    ‘It’s just that I looked at those papers you gave to Dad—’
    ‘Did you, now? I was under the impression that they were for his eyes only.’
    ‘Er … well … I saw the photograph of Il Fanto … Il Fan … that cinema you used to work at. And it really looked like you in the picture.’
    Mr Lazarus nodded but didn’t say anything.
    ‘And the film that was showing. Carri-whatsit? According to Wikipedia, that was released in 1914.’
    Mr Lazarus was still looking at him. He seemed faintly amused by Kip’s discomfort.
    ‘What of it?’ he asked.
    ‘Well, let’s say you were eighteen in that picture that would make you … well, more than a hundred years old, wouldn’t it?’
    Mr Lazarus considered for a moment.
    ‘I suppose it would,’ he said. ‘Assuming, of course, it was a
first
showing of the film. But it could be that we were running a revival. It could be that the picture was taken in 1924 … or 1946 … or 1951.’
    He went back to his tinkering. Kip waited for quite a while before he asked, ‘Well, which one was it?’
    Mr Lazarus shrugged his shoulders. ‘I forget,’ he said. ‘My memory is not what it used to be.’ He looked at Kip again. ‘Any other questions bothering you?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Kip. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out