Solar Prism Calibration

The morning sun cut straight across the catwalk, exposing an abandoned triangular glass prism fragment lodged between the iron grates. Passive refraction on my watch? Unacceptable. I hauled the thick glass wedge upright with both gloved hands, locked my stance against the rusted rail, and angled its sharp facet toward the rising light. A blazing strip of split crimson, violet, and gold flared across the curved steel flank of the water tank. I shifted my boots a millimeter to hold the spectrum perfectly pinned against the cold iron rivets. Let the city down there rumble in monochrome—I direct the pure energy of the cosmos itself.