The first explosion is smaller than the one I remember. That makes it worse. Because now I know there will be another.
“Everyone out!” I shout.
The participants scatter toward the exits. Saoirse grabs my arm.
“The network is still open.”
“I know.”
“If we leave it like this—”
“I know.”
Kareem is already moving people toward the west stairwell. Dr Vale is at the control panel trying to restore the system. My father refuses to leave. Of course he does.
“Baba!”
“There are people downstairs.”
He points toward the smoke pushing under the eastern door. I want to argue. Then I hear someone screaming below. He is already running. Saoirse looks at me.
“Go.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll hold this as long as I can.”
“No.”
“Emre.”
Not a fight. A decision. Hers. I run after my father. The lower corridor is filling with smoke. We find two technicians trapped behind a fallen frame. Between us, we pull it clear. My father gets one woman over his shoulder. For a man in his sixties, he moves like someone who has forgotten to ask his body for permission. We reach the stairwell. Another shock passes through the building. Every light blows at once. In the darkness, I feel the network. Hundreds now. Maybe thousands. People across Edinburgh touching each other’s fear, pain, knowledge, instincts. The city is becoming one enormous room. And I am the open centre. I get the technicians outside. My father turns back.
“No.”
He looks at me.
“Saoirse.”
I hate that he knows. We run upstairs. The hall is worse. Windows cracked. Ceiling panels down. People still moving toward exits. Saoirse is on her knees at the centre. Exactly where she was in the dream. Blood runs from her eyebrow. My heart stops.
“Saoirse!”
She looks up.
“Emre!”
Relief and terror hit at the same time. Then the second explosion comes. The windows disappear.