Kellan caught the first cut piece in the sling.
It sagged into the blanket with a gritty whisper instead of striking the floor. Bram kept the sling’s far end high until the sharp edge stopped moving, then lowered it onto the mat. The facility technician checked the exposed anchoring strip and marked the next point with a grease pencil.
Behind the inspection slot, Deni held the portable supply lead clear of the panel. Tessa watched both her hands and the patient’s machine. The guard had brought back the requested replacement-supply message: a unit was being inspected at the landing, but it was not yet available. Their current one remained the one they had.
Kellan set the pry bar into the cleared seam.
“Small movement,” he said.
Eli stood with the padded carrying straps. He remembered a kitchen window from childhood, his mother laughing because a repaired cupboard door had immediately fallen crooked again. The memory came with the same little irritation in the metal, an old hinge complaining against an ill-fitting repair. For a moment he could see sunlight on the sill and the view beyond it so clearly that the dim facility looked like the less real place.
Then the panel moved, and he was wholly present.
