The blue corona flared against the glass.
BZZZZZZZZZZT.
A second electromagnetic shockwave washed across Studio B, sharp and heavy as an iron shovel striking wet earth.
The air smelled of scorched hair, ozone, and overheated phenolic resin. Julian Vance felt the teeth in his jaw hum, a high-frequency vibration that rattled his molars like tiny steel tuning forks. The fine hairs on his forearms pulled toward the observation window, twitching in the invisible magnetic flux.
Across the room, Lin Mei dropped her ballpoint pen. The plastic barrel clattered against the linoleum. She stared down at her yellow legal pad with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
“Julian?” Lin Mei whispered, her voice tight with rising panic.
“Why am I holding a slide rule? What...
what room is this?”
