"Okay," she said, "but not until I say go." Holding her head still, she looked up and to the right: the window, in the wall beside her. Up: the ceiling, tubes of lights glowing in polymer. Toward her feet: Burton’s display, Edward. To her left: Macon, the closed door behind him. "Go," she said, closing her eyes. "Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve. Eleven. Ten."