The only thing remotely scientific-looking Sara could see were two white cylindrical objects in opposite corners of the room. Each was adorned with switches and a handful of blinking lights, but otherwise resembled upended tanning beds. Really, the place looked more like a studio apartment than a laboratory. There were dirty dishes in the sink, a towel draped over a chair, a Pink Floyd poster on the wall. As for the bearded middle-aged man who’d opened the door—well, he wore sweatpants, a t-shirt, flip-flops. If there was a lab coat anywhere, Sara guessed it was balled up at the bottom of a hamper.