Like an aestivating salamander, the lab is dormant. Not asleep, but prepared; waiting.
Come with me, and see the benches standing expectantly; ploughed furrows ready to receive whatever seed the new year's influx of students may bring. A centrifuge grumbles, then steadies as it accelerates through and past the zone of instability. The chunka hunka chunka of a single shaking incubator adds to the feeling that here are hidden, but powerful, energies lying just behind the door of a freezer.
And see, here in the offices: Slowly the regulars return from Christmas break, one occasionally breaking out to reconnoitre old battlegrounds and promising new vistas. But what is this? The place is alive, but with the silent beat of poster preparation.
For next week is Lorne, and the lab — apart from one or two apostates — will be making its annual pilgrimage to the deepest South.
I today found out that the conference centre has wireless access. I will take the Black Queen's laptop (look, she offered. How's that for love?) and may send back a report or two from the holy shrine. But for now, today, I will be working on my own poster. It's amazing what you can do with no data.
