My Title Goes Here

Futuristic fantasy.

The laboratory was fully furnished with its beakers and bunsen burners, mortars with their pestles, vials and ampules, along with spinouts, DNA synthesizers, sequencers and flow cytometers. Numerous metal-framed shelves with endless folders outlined twisting pathways. A BMAD was waiting at each of the three entrances of the lab, hovering... guarding. A smell of ozone comingled with the constant hum of machinery from the adjoining room.

Hunched over one of the lab tables, *X* tapped one of his steepled fingers against his lower lip in deep thought.