At least two dozen reporters squeezed into the NeuralTech Observation Deck, but only the lucky few at the glass could see what was going on in the dimly lit nerve center on the other side. The invite list was long, in case the press decided not to show up, but show up they did. In spades.
"Are we cleared to launch the operation, Ms. Patrick?" blasted through a loudspeaker into the cramped space, triggering a round of watchers inching closer to the glass for a better view of the great Brenna Patrick.
Brenna relished moments like this. Absolutely lived for them. A room full of the best minds in the world hanging on her signal was better than a good single pot still Irish Whiskey. Better than sex.
"Begin targeting sequence in three, two, one."
Green glowing bubbles popped up on the walls of the nerve center, each linked to the previous and spreading out to fill the room. The reporters who saw the whole picture from the Observation Deck realized the nerve center was a platform in the heart of a sphere, with the ever-growing network of circles widening into a glowing psychedelic quilt covering the dome walls. It was like two planetariums jammed together and showing the latest Pink Floyd or Jimi Hendrix Experience laser light show.
Brenna never missed an op these days. Especially now with so many new people interested, and a slew of reporters assigned to cover her work. All the faces pressed up against the window, wrestling with one another for a slightly better view, brought her such joy. As the lights chased each other across the black sky of the dome, Brenna adjusted her headset to make sure her voice would come through loud and clear for the audience above.
"As the network expands, we should start seeing green transitioning to red. These are proximity zones." A region of the dome in front and below the window began to glow orange, and Brenna lifted an arm to point the zone out to the onlookers. "Look, one is starting to form now."
Pulses of orange transitioning to green flashed faster and faster like a neon strobe light, tracing back and forth along the walls but closing in on a spot to the left of the faces staring wide-eyed through the glass. Soon orange became red, and the rest of the room faded back to black.
"Target acquired, Ms. Patrick. Are we cleared to terminate?"
The pulsing red wash glimmered like a smoldering halo over her long black hair. With dead calm eyes, she responded.
Yes, definitely better than sex.