Bassline Pressure

Under the lowest district of the dead megacity, JAPE’s machine was built to turn sound into weight. Each bassline pulse drove steel pistons through the streets above, crushing windows inward, splitting bone, and forcing black blood from the mouths of the infected choir chained around the reactor. The pressure never released. It sank deeper, through rusted rail tunnels and plague-wet concrete, until the city itself began to breathe in time with the sub frequencies. Those who survived the first drop did not run. They knelt, skulls humming, ribs vibrating against their skin, waiting for the next impact to make them part of the engine.