That color like Burton’s haptics scar, but she could taste it inside her teeth. "Nine. Eight. Seven. Six." It hadn’t worked. Nothing had happened. "Five. Four. Three." She should tell them. "Two. One. Zero." She opened her eyes. A flat ceiling sprang away, polished, six feet higher than the one in the trailer, as the room reversed, was backward, was other, weight of the crown gone, her stomach upside down. A woman’s eyes, close, weirdly blurred.