Priestly was many things: a genius, a slacker, a man perpetually on the brink of an accidental disaster, but a morning person was not one of them. His workspace, a cluttered mess of cables, monitors, and half-finished projects, reflected his inner chaos. Each day, he shuffled through his lab like a ghost, barely alive until his third can of energy drink kicked in. The company had hired him for his unorthodox brilliance, the kind that danced dangerously close to madness. But for Priestly, the ...
