Julian Vance adjusted the leather strap of Dr. Tallow’s 1974 concave head-mirror around his forehead.
The polished brass fitting rested against the crescent scar above his left eyebrow.
He tilted his chin toward the open abyss of Room 412. Through the concave lens, the dark pit resolved into sharp optical clarity.
Sixty feet below, the green monitor LED on Clara’s Hamilton ventilator pulsed in steady two-second intervals.
“Vitals are holding steady,” Julian said. “Seventy-two beats per minute.”
Elena stood beside him on the threshold. She held her Littmann stethoscope coiled in her left palm.
“How much time do we have on the Form 99 hold?” Elena asked.
“Fifty-two minutes,” Julian said, checking his orderly watch. “At three-fourteen in the morning, Tallow’s sixty-minute suspension expires.”
