The ten-foot-tall fan turned. Slow at first, with a tired grinding, but its speed increased until the tips blurred with a low thwack-thwack noise. The air being channeled through the vent became a gale in seconds and it was hard to stand; only Red’s punk hair remaining untouched. The wind sucked Alice toward the blades, her boots useless on the slick floor, until she squashed against the grille. Her body shook with each rotation of the blades, her face pressed against the metal.