illustrated by Distressed Egg
Ári sits in a small, windowless room, staring at a picture of a fallen log in a forest meadow hanging on the wall in front of them. The lights in the room are dim. There’s a low table with a glass of water on their right. The door is closed, but not locked. Electrodes are glued to Ári’s arms and forehead, with wires trailing out under the door. The walls of the room are black, made of thick, corrugated soundproof foam.