The Ampex control booth sat elevated above the foundry floor like a ship’s pilothouse.
Its plate-glass windows were double-paned, framed in heavy green industrial steel, and insulated against the roar of the Linotype machines.
Inside the booth, the air was completely still and cool.
It smelled of old vacuum tubes, bakelite dials, and clean recording tape.
In the center of the walnut console sat an Ampex ATR-102 reel-to-reel mastering deck.
Its brushed aluminum faceplate was unblemished, free of the soot that coated the rest of the machinery.
The two large VU meters glowed with warm amber light behind clean glass bezels.
Dr. Corvo stepped up to the deck first, pulling a small brown amber bottle of pure isopropyl alcohol and a pack of medical cotton swabs from his autopsy kit.
