Research assistant Hong Wang retrieves a small, clear, plastic tray from a stainless-steel incubator and places it carefully on the laboratory bench at Monash University’s Prostate Cancer Research Group.
And suddenly, there they are.
Tiny, pink slivers of live human tissue suspended in clear liquid, like floating bonito flakes. It’s almost anti-climactic. These are the source of my existential dread, the unravelling of my world over the past nine years? It hardly seems credible.
