TimeRiders: The Doomsday Code

The humming was growing louder. “Ladies and gentlemen!” Waldstein’s voice rose to a shout over the noise. “You’re about to witness the very first journey through time!”
“Mr. Waldstein.” Anna stepped forward. “Please! You should stop this!”
She noticed that one of the digi-station journalists had pushed his way through the chairs and was filming the cage with his palm-cam. She shook her head with disgust. No doubt the sicko was hoping to catch the whole thing—to film this poor deluded Froot Loop frying himself like a potato chip.
Jesus…
Waldstein was smiling calmly at her through the wire. “Don’t worry, my dear, I’m going to be just fine!” he called out above the increasing hum of power building up toward a discharge.
“Please!” cried Anna, surprised at the sound of panic in her voice. “Please! Just get out!”
Waldstein’s smile was almost reassuring. “I’ll be fine, my dear. I’m going to see them again. I’m going to see them, touch them…”
“‘Them? Who? What are you talking about?” she shouted, but her words were lost amid the growing din.
Suddenly sparks began to dance along the wires of the cage.
“Stand back!” someone shouted. She realized the charge could quite easily arc across the space toward them. Instinctively she stumbled backward several steps, bumping into an empty chair, banging her ankle painfully. The chairs were all empty now; everyone was on their feet. She could hear someone calling for the police. No one came here tonight to watch a man voluntarily cook himself—not even a nutcase. And there were enough nutcases out there these days.
Sparks sputtered from the cage and showered onto the floor. The fluorescent lights across the warehouse ceiling flickered, popped, and went out, leaving them in a darkness lit only by the strobing flash of Waldstein’s electrical execution. She could still see his silhouette in there, perfectly still, amid the curtain of sparks. Still, calm… not the thrashing and convulsing marionette she’d expected to see by now.
Then, with a soft pop—not a bang—and a gentle puff of displaced air, it all stopped—the sparks, the humming of power, the fizz and crackle of raw electrical energy, all still and silent.