… the soft, white light, and the smell of clean sheets washed away…

… to be replaced by the hum of neon, the smell of ozone…

… and cathode ray blue light…

… that new sculpture in her spare room was some kind of temporal translation locus…

… and it had sent her to some slick, high-tech futuropolis…

… she’d have to get home, and deal to that annoying thing.

Shot at Access.

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