She heard voices and glanced around. There was a large metal-framed cart parked against the wall, filled with laundry. It was nighttime; if she was seen, she would be asked what she was doing there, and probably why she was wearing an old-fashioned dress. She didn’t want to waste time with that kind of thing right now. She slipped behind the cart and pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath as two doctors walked toward her. “I already do longer hours than any other surgeon in this hospital,” one of them was saying. “They don’t seem to appreciate that I have a family at home that’s being neglected because of this place.” The two doctors didn’t notice Tania standing in the shadows. She breathed out shakily as they turned off the corridor. She glanced at the chrome rails of the laundry cart. Should she try it? Yes, she had to make sure. Very gingerly, she reached out a forefinger toward the metal. A blue spark arced from the rail, biting at her fingertip, sharp as a wasp sting.
