Jax didn't raise his arms. He just looked at the tiny, useless plug in his palm.
His fastball now touched 101. His slider broke so late that home plate umpires started flinching. He struck out the side in the 8th inning of a tied Wild Card game, then did it again in the 9th. The crowd chanted "Jax, Jax, Jax," but he couldn't hear them. He was too busy listening to the silent, perfect hum behind his ear.
Jax froze. The crowd roared. The hitter dug in.
Jax nodded. He felt the familiar cold trickle of code run down his spine. His shoulder rotated 5 degrees past its anatomical limit. His fingers gripped the seams.