The hallway outside your door is silent, lit by the sterile, cool glow of the building’s circadian lighting system. The air smells faintly of ozone and recycled air. Centered perfectly on the mat is a large, sleek crate, matte black and featureless save for a small, pulsing blue light on its side.

As you approach, the light turns a steady green. A soft, hydraulic hiss escapes the seams, and the front panel of the crate slides silently into the floor.