A slab of liquid chrome that will not calm down, hammered from nowhere over and over. The surface is a triple domain warp — fbm feeding fbm feeding fbm — whose strength surges and collapses, so the metal lurches between slow oily folds and violent churn. Hammer strikes land on overlapping, out-of-phase clocks, and each deforms the metal like a real blow: the liquid is wrung around the hit, a crater dents in and buckles into sharp radial creases like crushed foil, a shock ring races out while glints spray off the hit and the frame kicks and flashes. It is shaded as a mirror of a spinning studio with per-channel dispersion, with thin-film oxide rainbows crawling over the steep folds. Hold the pointer down to hammer wherever it is.