She crossed to the far end of the room and let herself though another door. Her neck itched, her body tight with tension. She made herself move faster, hurrying without being obvious. This corridor was different, the side walls switching from blockwork to a steel truss, the structural members zigzagging either side. A window was set into the wall halfway along. She ran across to gaze out—the corridor had become a bridge spanning a giant hall. The space below was at least ten football fields in length; the ceiling glowed white over a soft gray rubber floor. Rows of body scanners lined up, their cylindrical ten-foot-long tubes catching the overhead lights with a metallic sheen. Like the transmission towers, these scanners were of a design Alice hadn’t seen before: simpler, cleaner, free of cabling or ornamentation. The gleaming sarcophaguses fading to sparks of light in the distance.