Clara Vance felt the green halogen beam burning against her skin like dry winter friction.
Beneath her sneakers, the frosted glass floor buzzed with high-voltage static. The illuminated tiles cast an inverted green negative across her chest, complete with her birthdate and a blood-red slash: VOID.
“The light is hot,” Clara whispered, her fingers trembling against her frequency dial. “It smells like scorched plastic.”
“Stay perfectly still, Clara,” Elena warned, kneeling three feet away on the cold border tiles. “The electrostatic charge is pooling around your ankles.”
“My radio tuner is picking up high-frequency hum,” Clara said. “Four thousand two hundred is drowning in five thousand cycles of optical static.”
“Don’t let it scramble your inner ear,” Elena urged, keeping her voice low and steady. “Focus on your breathing. Inhale for four seconds, exhale for four.”
“I am trying,” Clara whispered. “The floor is vibrating under my arches.”
Beside her, Lin Mei’s chest flashed with the identical crimson warning: DECEASED / UNLISTED.
