Not figuratively. With the Sensory Expansion running at twelve times resolution, the visual acuity of a body that was currently operating at four times normal human max, he could see the Pacific coastline as a distinct line of grey-blue on the horizon to the west.
He could hear — everything.
The radio traffic of three airports. The conversations in the casinos below, which were still full at 6:47 AM because that's what Las Vegas casinos were. The specific, low-frequency vibration of the Hoover Dam's generators sixty miles east, steady as a heartbeat.
He turned his empathic sense on.
Yuna's Seraph Trace inheritance, running through his bloodline now, filtered the city's emotional broadcast. Not individual thoughts. Emotional topography — the map of human states distributed across the geography below. The specific heat signature of want and loss and the particular frequency of three in the morning decisions that were still being processed at seven AM.
He turned it off.
