Ethan found himself standing in a small, brightly lit room.
It looked like a cramped corner shop—if someone had tried to run a lab out of it.
Experimental equipment was piled everywhere: on the table, on the floor, shoved along the walls. Glass containers, tubing, and stacks of handwritten notes jammed the narrow space with zero organization.
Then the door was shoved open from the outside—violently.
Bang!
The door slammed into the wall.
A thick-built man walked in.
He wore a black guard uniform, a heavy crate balanced on one shoulder. He didn't bother setting it down. He just stared coldly at the scientist standing by the instruments.
"You still here?" His voice was pure impatience. "What—waiting for our boss to toss you a handout?"
He jerked his chin at the equipment.
"Just looking at your junk, I can tell it's trash. Immortality? Stuffing people into some 'consciousness'? You're a freak."
Still cursing under his breath, the guard turned and left.
