The overhead Dictaphone exploded in a shower of violet sparks.
Inside the aluminum housing, the endless magnetic tape loop seized on its bronze capstan. The tape bunched into a brittle black knot, smoking as forty volts of raw current surged through the playback head.
Beneath the canvas tub-shroud, the creature in Position D convulsed.
Its synthetic vocal cords tore apart under the strain of the paradox. A high, shrieking whistle tore through the perforated speaker grill, followed by the dry clatter of an internal thermal print-hammer striking metal:
[SYNTAX FAULT -- SELF-REFERENTIAL COMMITMENT VOID]
“It can’t clear the stack!” Lin Mei yelled, her voice bouncing off the high glass dome.
“The logic gate is trapped between perjury and statute violation! The collar is feeding sixty volts straight into the cervical relays!”
“Look at the water!” Mac shouted, his brass spanner held ready in his mechanical left hand. “The damn skin is coming off!”
