The darkness of the Embryo Room is visible and crimson, like the darkness of closed eyes on a summer's afternoon. The bulging flanks of row on receding row and tier above tier of bottles glint with innumerable rubies, and among the rubies move the dim red spectres of men and women with purple eyes and all the symptoms of lupus. The hum and rattle of machinery faintly stir the air. There is an elevator to the west, two sliding doors to the south, and a staircase leading up to the east.