All the Suits found a seat on the train, and the airtight doors sealed shut. 

“Welcome,” the woman said over the intercom. “Please indicate your destination.” 

“LightYear lab,” the boss growled.

“Destination is LightYear lab,” the voice continued. “Departing in three . . . two . . . one . . .”  A burst of light and the train shot forward into a inky-dark tunnel. Through the window the tunnel walls went by in a blur, but inside the transport it was silent and still, as if the train wasn’t even moving. 

Joe raised his hand and said, “Sir, how long will it take us to get to—” 

The intercom crackled to life. “Arriving at the LightYear lab in three . . . two . . . one . . ” 

The transport doors slid open and the train was flooded with bright lights. Outside, a giant room was filled with people milling about in white lab coats. On the walls and circular tables were dozens of monitors and flatscreen TVs displaying what looked like hundreds of computer codes and math equations that wouldn’t have made sense to anybody but the people scurrying around.

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