Exit Plan

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“I smell smoke!” Shirin Naseri, assistant engineer in the centrifuge-testing department, had opened the blast door into the test cell. Her superior, Dr. Davood Moham, quickly looked up, first with confusion, then irritation, and motioned for her to shut the door.

“What is the problem now?” snapped Moham. “And why did you open the door?”

“I said, I smell smoke,” replied Naseri patiently. She had to be careful of her tone; her boss was in one of his less collegial moods. “A good engineer doesn’t just look at the gauges, and my nose tells me something is overheating. We should shut down the test and find out what’s wrong.”

Moham slammed his clipboard on the console, making test technician Faraz Yazdi almost jump out of his seat. He stalked over to the blast door, muttering about “fussy women,” and yanked it open. The whirring din from sixty-four centrifuges engulfed them. Taking a deep sniff, his face soured even more. “I smell nothing.”

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