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The faint buzz started again, a rhythm I knew too well.
I counted, as always, hoping to predict the end, but it varied.
Sixteen pulses this time, shorter than yesterday.
I tightened the straps, the cold metal against my skin a familiar comfort, a promise of order in the chaos.
The large circular mirror opposite me showed my reflection, distorted at the edges, but the center was clear: a stark, pale face, eyes wide with a strange mix of apprehension and readiness.
It wasn't fear; it was something sharper, more focused.
My hand moved to the small, red button. Just a quick press, and it would all begin.
I paused, remembering the last one, the rush, the fleeting success.