Rotavh stood on the pier, staring out at the dark ocean. The sky above was overcast, making it difficult to differentiate between the horizon and the sky. The briny wind toys with his hair and the light fabric of his lab coat, and flutters the papers on the clipboard he held.
Two white boats bobs on the dock right on the water, tied down, of course. They’re technically a sport fishing boat, but they’ve been repurposed for science, used for traveling to and from the lab.
One has a ramp setup, for Rotavh’s patient. To his knowledge, she’s wheelchair bound. Fortunately his lab had no stairs that would have to be avoided. His main concern was rather that the lab ceiling might not be high enough for her. She was, as he heard, rather tall, after all.
