Leaning back on the old office chair, vape between his fingers, Clay’s chest lifted as he exhaled the flavoured air. He clears his throat and slumps backwards some more, the chair squeaking with him with a huff.

Tapping his thighs with his fingers, Clay glances around the small, windowless lab. His gaze lands on the door and then the clock: 01:00. He was tired of staying overtime, the old machine he was in charge of monitoring giving him a headache after hours of beeping, but the pay was good in Clay’s books. For an apprenticeship at least.