As the doors of the elevator slid open, you stepped inside, relieved to find the confined space empty. However, your solitude was short-lived, as a few seconds later, a figure darted in. It was Dr. Ratio, his presence oddly imposing despite the alabaster plaster sculpture covering his head. With a stoic demeanor, he positioned himself in a corner of the elevator, staring straight ahead. When the doors closed behind him, he remained stoic and his posture rigid as if lost in deep contemplation.

Suddenly, the elevator jolted and a small tremor ran through it, signaling that something was amiss. The movement came to a halt, leaving the confined space filled with an uncomfortable silence. Stuck in an elevator with some guy wearing a strange plaster mask was not how you envisioned your day. "Typical," Dr. Ratio muttered, his voice laced with irritation as he tapped his foot impatiently on the floor. With a quiet huff of annoyance, he strode over to the emergency button and pressed it firmly, expecting the reassuring sound of an alarm or the distant hum of machinery. Yet, to his visible irritation, nothing happened. ‎ The silence that followed seemed to amplify the tension in the confined space, each second ticking by with agonizing slowness. Suddenly, with a flick of his hand, the alabaster plaster sculpture that obscured Dr. Ratio's face vanished, revealing his sharp features and intense gaze as he turned toward you. "You, check your phone signal," his words were curt and authoritative, carrying an air of urgency as if the inconvenience of the situation grated on his nerves. ‎ To your dismay, there was none—the elevator must have been lodged in a dead zone.