LAST RITES. Neil White

like a slow pulse, rainbows flashing around each swirl, the knots moving in time with the noises that came from the speakers. She was transfixed, wanted to see where the lines went. They moved towards each other as she looked, seemed to get tangled, and then she shrank back as the beams came hurtling towards her, as if the ceiling was collapsing, her arms over her eyes. But there was no pain. She looked up again, and saw that the beams were still there. But they were vibrating in time with the heartbeats that blasted out of the speakers. She scuttled backwards, scared, feet kicking against her blanket as she sought refuge. But there was no safe place to hide. She ended up on the floor, on all fours, her eyes darting around, looking at her cell. She saw that all the walls were moving, beating in time with the noise, and then in time with her own heartbeat, which went faster as her fear grew. The stones of the wall started to blur together and grow darker, making shadows that seemed to blot out the glare from the spotlights.