Julian lowered the handset over the twin chrome prongs of the cradle.
He let the weight of the Bakelite press the spring-loaded plungers down.
[CLICK]
The mechanical contact broke with a deep, muffled chime.
The moment the plunger seated, the heavy air inside Vault Zero shifted.
Above the bronze desk, the round face of the nineteen-fifties IBM Simplex master wall clock groaned. Its rusted brass internal gears, frozen solid since October twenty-first, nineteen ninety-six, shuddered under thirty years of pent-up spring tension.
[CLACK-CHUNK]
The long black minute hand jumped forward with a sharp jerk.
