Deep underground, where rats fear to go and not even the cockroaches tread, a man worked in the pale green light of test tubes. Each test tube had something growing in it. They looked like small children. The man sat at his little table, scratching away with his pencil. He sighed, almost exasperated. He rose from the table and walked to a test tube. He peered in at the growing experiments. One of them began to wiggle. The man smiled and tapped the glass, almost like a father in a maternity ward. Once again, the man turned and walked.

He passed through a door, down a dimly lit hallway, his footsteps echoing as his feet struck the stone floor. The man stopped and opened a door, gazing inside. In the room, there were two steel slabs. Laying on one was a woman and the other, a man.

The man returned to his lab.

He sat down at his table and returned to writing. As he did, he thought about how beautiful Sergeant Carrisa Hartford looked, lying on that metal slab.