Pedestal Pulse

The exit gate's mechanical arm hummed every time a bus rolled through the outward lane. I left the asphalt curb behind and scrambled up the steel anchor bolts onto the concrete pedestal beneath the gate's control box. Wedged behind a junction conduit was an abandoned plastic wire ferrule, bright cobalt blue and grooved along its sleeve. I pulled the zinc surveyor's tag from my belt ring, slotted the flared metal edge into the ferrule's plastic notch, and wedged the assembly flush against the vibrating steel housing. Each time the gate relay tripped, a crisp, metallic chatter rippled directly through the tag into my palm. I braced my boots against the bolt heads and held the beat.