Dr. Victor Corvo did not need an administrative memorandum to know what boiling brine did to human tissue.
At one hundred and four degrees Fahrenheit, the dermal capillaries dilated into bright crimson erythema. At one hundred and eight degrees, the core temperature breached the hypothalamic threshold, inducing delirium and cardiac arrhythmia.
At one hundred and twelve, cellular proteins began to coagulate. At one hundred and eighteen, irreversible heat shock uncoupled the mitochondria, turning the blood into thick, dark syrup.
And on the brass dial of the wall thermometer mounted above Position E, the black needle clicked past one hundred and two.
The cast-iron steam manifolds along the perimeter groaned like artillery breaches under pressure. Dense, scalding vapor billowed from the seven Hubbard Tanks, curling toward the iron-ribbed glass dome until the green emergency lamps were swallowed in a pale, humid fog.
“Water temperature is climbing at zero-point-one-six degrees per second,” Lin Mei said, her slide rule moving in rapid, rhythmic jerks against her notebook. “That matches Captain Laminate’s announcement. Exactly ten degrees every sixty seconds.”
“I can shut the supply down,” Mac Cole said, his knuckles white on his naval brass spanner. He took two heavy strides toward the high-pressure steam valve bolted to the wall beside Position A. “Two turns on that packing nut and I’ll choke the feed line to death.”
