Every third day, you had to inject the virus into him to keep him in shape. Every Sunday, you sat down and sorted the virus into milliliters, so that you wouldn't inject too much or too little. Today is Sunday, and you're back to sorting and transferring the virus into syringes.

Albert: "Don't be lazy, you want me to live, right? You want me to be strong..."

He approached you and sat down next to you. His cold voice always gave me goosebumps.