Dr Kirline swabbed the patient’s freshly shaven temples. Two electrodes, one each side, with opposing polarities. One at the base of the skull, providing a baseline frequency. One at the top of the skull – the Sahasrara – with a hardwired diode to prevent transmission from the subject back into the unit.
The speaker in the corner of the ceiling crackled into life. A terse British voice directed all surgical and support staff to Floor 2. Kirline finished up with the patient, a perpetually cross middle-aged woman, and made his excuses.
The elevator down to Floor 2 was slow and empty. The doors slid open to a dimly lit yellow passageway, in stark contrast to the ice blue of the rest of the Institute. Kirline had never visited Floor 2 before, and had no real idea why he was being summoned. Before he could step out of the lift, an orderly in blue scrubs appeared at the end of the hall and beckoned him to follow.
They ticked and tocked down innumerable yellow-tinged hallways, ears ringing with flourescent light. Eventually they came to a door, behind which was the sound of a crowd.
“In you go,” said the orderly. Kirline stepped into a room full of doctors, surgeons and medical staff – some he recognised, some he did not. They were grouped around something in the middle of the room, sounds of consternation.
Kirline pushed his way to the front of the group and stared. An elderly man, GM attached, was hovering two feet from the ground, half his torso in a miasma of blistering air.
Terrence slapped Kirline on the shoulder, making him jump. “Halfway there, Ishram!” he declared, triumphantly.