A large tent had been erected beyond the dunes, white and humming with generators. Inside, it was colder. Sterile. A row of folding chairs lined one wall. A few personnel in lab coats and clean suits moved between tables and sealed containers.
And on a raised platform under soft blue light sat one of the eggs—intact. Nearby, a woman in a white coat adjusted a monitor, then turned to Arthur. “You’re the fisherman?” she asked. “The one who touched the egg?”