"Am I going to die in here, Herbert?" "Yes, John, you're going to die in here." "Why though?" "Go back to sleep, John." The loud speaker made the usual cracking noise, before the room fell into a deathly silence. John shivered under the thin blankets provided for him, he was dying. It had been ninety days since he had eaten regular food, six since he was given a pill, and one hundred and sixteen since he last saw a human being. The world felt lonely. Hello, John, try not to overexert yourself, we wouldn't want you to hurt yourself so soon. "How was your sleep, John?" "Good." "No." "Shut up." "No." "No."