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Jay places his thumb on a scanner, and swipes his card at the same time. The blast doors open, and he walks through them, tucking his ID into a pocket within his lab coat. The room he's entered is vast--about the size of a high school gymnasium. There are observation windows toward the ceiling, which is sloped and has large round lights hanging from it. There are children's toys and pillows on the floor.

"Collins!" a gruff voice yells out, startling him. "I damn near almost had 'em do a wellness check on your neurotic ass, where the hell've you been?" An older, balding man in his 50s or 60s wearing an aviator jacket and pushing a janitorial cart greets him.

"I-I'm just having a shitty day, that's all!" Jay stammers out.