Station 6 was situated at the far northern bend of the counter.
Clara Vance sat before the towering wooden casing of the Grand Halcyon PBX switchboard.
The board was a heavy piece of communication hardware from nineteen eighty-two, salvaged from the Grand Halcyon Hotel basement.
Its face was a maze of brass jacks, black toggle switches, and fabric-wound patch cables.
Mounted above the switchboard was the green cathode-ray tube of the acoustic oscilloscope.
The phosphor screen hummed with a low, vibrating drone, casting a pale emerald glow across Clara’s face.
“Channel B is patched to the Register 1 counter microphone,” Clara spoke into her headset.
Her voice was thin, taut, and disciplined.
