You would be forgiven for not recognizing the nondescript brick warehouse in Phoenix's Grand Avenue industrial district as the site of a high-tech agricultural facility. But as soon as you step inside, the smell of hundreds of marijuana plants is overwhelming. As you make your way through the small rooms that line the main hallway, you can hear the whoosh of ventilation fans and the gentle hum of huge artificial lights suspended above a lush green canopy of leaves. Reggae, old-school hip-hop, and pop-punk blare from a portable speaker as a crew of 30 or so workers trim, water, and inspect the all-female crop of cannabis plants casually known as "the ladies." [continues 3709 words]