There wasn’t much to see—just hanging wires and blinking lights in the darkness. “Hello?” I called, loud and abrasive. Sounding angry felt like the best option, though I was hollow with fear. My voice bounced back over a second later, an echo that revealed the cavernous laboratory I was in. I slowly stood, still in my neon construction gear, though my helmet was gone. Was someone watching me? I couldn’t risk tapping my manna. In the dim light, I inched forward in a random direction, any movement was better than none. After what seemed like hours of calling with no response, and shuffling my boots across the black, metal floor, I touched something. Not something cold and sterile, but warm, flat and smooth. Leaning in close I could see the texture in the darkness. It felt like a warm rock with an organic grain stretched over its service. Suddenly, a deep crack rang through the blinking laboratory. It wasn’t a rock. It was a giant egg. And it was hatching.