The first blue notice touched the red pool on the floor.
Sssss-crack!
A blinding violet flash lit the concrete walls of Bay 07. The red clause-ink didn’t splash. It caught fire.
It wasn’t normal orange flame. It was a cold, crackling sheet of sapphire-blue electrical fire. The blue flames raced across the flooded floor at the speed of a burning fuse, feeding exclusively on the formalin-soaked paper pulp and toxic red resins.
“Get your boots off the metal roof racks!” Julian Vance shouted over the roar of the reaction.
“Where do we stand?” Elena Rostova asked, hauling Lin Mei by the elbow.
“Right on the rubber insulation pad!” Julian yelled. “Rubber doesn’t conduct transit debt!”
“Is rubber safe from sixty-hertz arcs?” Lin Mei asked, tucking her slide-rule into her vest.
