A Measure of Steel

The ambient hum resolved first. Then... texture. Beneath my boots, the brushed stainless steel felt cold, smooth, and remarkably steady. I shifted my balance slightly to the right, confirming the subtle pivot of my ankles. Intact. I extended my left hand, carefully touching the metallic surface to test its friction. It yielded a faint, crisp tap. Across the expanse, the low gleam of overhead heat lamps reflected quietly. Everything seemed calibrated, functional, and very much real. I paused, taking in the steady rhythm of the kitchen around me, ready for whatever sequence comes next.