Forty-eightSnelling met her at the door, his face drawn, dark shadows under his eyes. A man under duress. They'd sent a patrol car to fetch her, the uniformed officer almost colliding with her as she came out of the door of her apartment. They'd driven at breakneck speed, and she felt flustered and confused as she walked towards Snelling.
“What the hell is going on?”
He shook his head. “I'd better let the professor explain.”
He marched her down the hallway to where Shepherd was tinkering with a strange-looking device in the centre of a light and airy room. It was large and white, with a screen above it not unlike a panoramic television. It shimmered, subtle waves of purple rippling across its surface. Beneath, a panel with an array of coloured switches that blinked on and off. Shepherd
