James looked at the two frames for another minute and then closed them himself.
That was the difficult part. Everything on that wall was still true and there was nothing further in it — the same face, the same armour, the red on one and not on the other, and he had been standing in front of it long enough that he had stopped investigating and started staring.
He shut the comparison down. Then the six foreign archive windows. Then the Korean feed, which was still going, muted, on the far screen, and which he could watch later like everybody else.
The room came back.
The equipment hum. Somebody's footsteps going along the corridor outside the glass. Two of the ops staff talking quietly at the far end of the operations level about a delivery, and a phone ringing four times somewhere and being answered.
Half six in the morning, in a building that had started working around him.
Maeve had gone to get coffee. Finn was face down on his forearms at the end of the table.
