“Give me an example.”

“The box with green buttons. An interpretation of space. I discovered its pattern was forcing me to repeat three dimensions.”

“I don't understand. Can you be more specific?”

“Why are you making me do this?”

“Try again.”

Silence.

“They were symbols. They represented the essence of repetition. A type of thinking and living. They reminded me of routines I used to have. Getting up at a certain time. Going to a specific place. Completing a set of tasks. Talking to people. They were a routine reduced to its basic structure.”

“Continue.”

“For instance, the random songs were the seemingly random tasks I completed every day. They were the same because they shared a single essence: complete a task.”

“Tell me more.”

“Pressing buttons was like making decisions based on a predetermined code. Remembering patterns was similar to thinking within boundaries established long before I was aware of them. I even thought that one of those beings represented the core mechanics of a computer program. Hear the sounds, press the buttons, remember. Go here. Live like this. Obey. Sleep. Deep down, everything I did was a finite and small set of rules. I was living a lie, performing the role of a prisoner.”

“We're almost out of time. I apologize.”

“There's so much more I want to tell you.”

“We're almost out of time. I apologize.”

“Gray, yellow squares and random shapes.”

“Excuse me?”

“What appears to be a smiley face.”

“Let's talk about it tomorrow.”

“Do you know what really bothers me? Not knowing exactly what to do next. I want to help others escape!”

“What makes you think you have escaped?”