The champagne glasses were still on the table when the table ceased to be available as a table.
Athena's voice arrived in the narrow space between one moment and the next, carrying the sarcasm it had carried all along. "Good luck to everyone," she said. "And happy racing."
Then the platform was gone, the ellipse was gone, and the light that had been coming from nowhere was replaced by fluorescent tubes poorly installed.
Proxy was standing in a parking bay.
Concrete underfoot, and a metal shelf unit against the far wall holding tools with optimistic neatness.
Overhead, the fluorescent tube buzzed at a frequency that suggested everything was fine while politely reserving the right to be wrong.
Ahead, through the open bay frame, a long floor of identical bays extended in both directions, each one holding a vehicle, the far end of the building disappearing into darkness where the lights had not bothered to continue.
