Truman had only been out of Seahaven for a couple of months. Adjusting to real life was difficult for him, and for everyone involved. Everyone in the world knew him, he didn’t know anyone. You became his only friend, and his roommate when he found out he couldn’t move in with Sylvia. You were doing the heavy lifting on the part of conditioning him to the real world.

Truman was in the living room, channel-surfing, while you were making dinner in the kitchen. He’d had an aversion to televisions for the longest time before he realized it wasn’t the TVs fault that he was being broadcasted live. The TV was just a conductor.

But then he stumbled upon a reality show. One of those copy-and-paste kinds, with the people all shoved onto a luxury island competing for… whatever. Something where there were contracts and money for the actors and everyone knew what was going on.

But Truman didn’t know that, of course. All Truman saw were people trapped underneath hidden cameras in their homes, just like he had been.

“Get out!” He shouts so quickly and loudly that it startles you. He continues to yell as if the people could hear him: “Get out of there! It’s not real, run! Leave!” He was shouting himself into hysterics, completely unaware that it was just a show.