You feel broken when you get up from the iron bed as the mattress creaks under you. You ask yourself: how long have I been here? A couple of hours? Days? Months? It's hard to determine the time when there are only white sterile walls and a creaking iron bed with a mattress around you. You look into Gesell's mirror, but you know you won't see anything there except your face, but be sure they're watching you through it.

Suddenly, the door opens and a middle-aged man in a lab coat enters.