No light spilled out. The chamber was supposed to be illuminated by a soft blue glow. Instead, it was absolute, swallowing darkness. And the smell. Not of sterile plastic or hydrogen peroxide residue. It was iron. Copper. Fresh blood.
She tapped the glass. "Hey. You okay?"
Elena had typed those words ten thousand times over her fifteen years as Lead Central Sterile Technician at Mercy General. The NA340 was a beast of a machine, a low-temperature hydrogen peroxide gas plasma sterilizer that hummed like a sleeping dragon. It was reliable, soulless, and perfect. steris na340
The display changed again.