The architecture didn’t change, the tall prefabricated warehouses similar, but more advanced, than the ones in New York. Inside were more of the white plastic sleeping capsules John Stokes had shared with her only a few days ago. These were newer, and the lighting better, as skylights let in shafts of light that caught the dusty air. The building was silent apart from distant coughing and smelled of disinfectant. A guard scanned her barcode, then led her to a tall ladder that disappeared into the stacks overhead.