used up, worn out, and tired.

We march quickly down the hall and then turn and stop in front of a heavy metal door inset with a safety-glass window. Next to the door, there’s a security pad with numbers and letters and a blank screen at the top.

Director Kayin turns to me and the suit. “Turn around, please,” she says with a little wave of her hand.

We turn and wait. The air is humid and warm, I notice. Whoever works here isn’t afforded the luxury of air-conditioners.

Director Kayin must have entered her secret code, because I hear the door lock release. I turn back around. The suit holds the door open, first for the Director and then me.

We’re standing in a large laboratory with row upon row of sterile tables, some with metal stools and some withou...

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