 Nesmith threw a switch at the side of the room, opening the bulkhead, maintained direct eye contact with the object at all times. A buzzer sounded, and the locking mechanisms of the bulkhead clicked in word. F***ing finally, said D-42-749. Once the door was locked behind them, D-42-749 and Dr. Henderson found themselves face to face with the good ol' concrete and rebar god of destruction itself. Due to a recent cleaning operation, the floor was mercifully white for a change. Dr. Henderson sighed and tightened his grip on the box. Excuse me, 42749, would you do me a quick favor? D-42-749 grunted. Close your eyes, give your eyelids a rest.