The security camera emits a low hum as the figure ascends the narrow elevator shaft. The doctor’s voice rings through the cramped space.

“Do you hear it like I do? ... Off somewhere...somewhere far...Beyond this place...beyond any place. A bell. For whom does it toll, you think?” His words linger in the air as he continues his one-sided dialogue. “A wounded little pup lifts its head beneath the shadow of the master’s raised foot.”

At this point, the elevator has come to a halt. The only path is a long corridor lined with multiple small static-displaying CRTs. “For whom does the bell now toll?” Dr. Sawyer laughs inaudibly over the intercom as the figure takes a step into the hall. On cue, all monitors turn off.

The metal doors open when approached. On the other side, a single orange spotlight illuminates a dark room containing a circular stage. In the center is a contraption of some sort, surrounded by more TVs, all bearing their white-noise-festered screens. Long, sturdy wires are draped across the floor, dangling from the ceiling, while blue electricity zaps the strange metal object.

“Not even the ground beneath your feet,” The Doctor seizes the observer by the shoulder so that they are now face-to-face—a faceless exoskeleton, a TV-headed thing wrapped in white cloth, one of his many mechanical vessels. He stands there, dangerously close to a staircase that leads to a basement of more exoskeletons, with the full intention to throw the intruder down.