A low hum of equipment filled the high-ceilinged laboratory at Thorne Tower. Rows of biocontainment chambers lined the walls, each with a thick glass window and a tangle of wires and sensors trailing inside. Camila Zhou stood before the two central chambers, clipboard in hand, her heart pounding. Julian Thorne paced behind her, white lab coat over his tailored suit, tremors barely visible in his fingers.
Dr. Whitaker hovered nearby, adjusting settings on the neural-feedback console. “We're ready," he said softly. “Whenever you are."
Camila swallowed. She glanced at Julian. His posture was rigid, eyes fixed on the chambers. Inside the left chamber, a reclining chair held electrodes taped to the temples of his head. Inside the right chamber, a similar setup awaited her—Camila, the unwillin
