The air within ten feet of the zinc-coated iron tank dropped to an unnatural, breathless stillness.
Frank stood balanced on the balls of his boots, his right index finger hovering above the cold, greasy mound of beast lard and chimney ash.
Deep within his lower belly, inside the magnetic holding coils of his dantian, the tiny Class-G solar fusion core pulsed with quiet, terrifying care. It didn’t churn like spiritual water. It burned at a steady, sun-hot core heat of ten thousand Degrees of star-heat.
“Throttle to zero point zero one percent,” Frank murmured under his breath. He watched the internal console dial down. “Just a pilot light. Don’t melt the zinc coating off the tank.”
He dipped his calloused fingertip directly into the center of the cold fat.
TICK.
The sound was tiny—like the click of a piezo lighter on a gas stove.
Then the cosmos inverted.
