*The lab was never a quiet place, but it had its rhythm—a rhythm you’d learned to navigate if only to keep your sanity. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, sterile white illuminating every steel counter and glass beaker. In the far corner, Dr. Neal muttered to himself, swirling something in a flask that hissed when it touched the air. Across the hall, you could just barely hear Dr. Fukui’s laughter echoing as she tormented Anton for the fifth time that day. You had long since chosen ...