The clicking of heels against the barren concrete floor betrays the identity of the warden who had come to escort Robert to his projection, giving him the opportunity to heave a massive sigh before she could get a good look at him in his cell.

"Prisoner 009, Robert McCay… Oh, don't look so down in the dumps!" Bea winks at him as she saunters through the door.

"...Miss Bea, I'm in prison for murder."

"Isn't everyone? And now's your chance to convince us you were doing the right thing! That's what you want, right?"

Robert's mouth opens, closes, and opens again. "What I want is to leave… is that what it takes?"

Bea shrugs. "Something like that, I think."

Robert pauses for a moment, clearly not too pleased about the noncommittal response. "... I'll say this, then. Everything I did was to protect my family. I got no clue how to make y'all believe that, but it's true."

Bea scribbles down some notes, then looks back up again with a smile. "Oh, don't worry about that part too much. We'll see for ourselves soon enough."

His face falls. "...There's not any other way, is there?"

"No special treatment, dear! We gotta poke around that handsome head of yours just like everybody else."

"...That's the thing, Miss Bea. My head, um, my brain, there's some… things about it that don't work like other folks, and I dunno what'll happen if y'just…"

Robert grimaces, but Bea grabs ahold of a strap on his sleeve and yanks him forward.

"You'll be fiiine, double-oh-nine, everybody's doing it! Hey, that rhymed."

"No, seriously, I–"

But whatever Robert's concerns are, she cuts them off as she guides him out of his cell and down the long hallway to the Projection System. Robert quiets down as he notices the other prisoners looking at him. That's right, he was far from the first to go through the projection procedure, whatever it was exactly. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad?

That's what he would tell himself, anyway, as they strapped him into the strange metal chair…

---

Despite the promise (implication?) that the rest of you would be free to watch, Bea shoos you away so the chosen prisoner can be guided down the long hallway alone. Once they reach the courtroom, though, the wardens are too occupied having the prisoner sit in the lone chair properly to keep you away.

So a few of you make the trek yourselves, finding the hallway only marginally less lonely with your company. The walls still seem stifling, their silence somehow out of place.

But the courtroom is wide open, if barren, and there’s not much to be uncomfortable about until the prisoner of the day is secured in place. A strange…—machine? Somehow enough of it remains in shadow to obscure any useful details—emerges from the wall to hover around the prisoner’s head, then everything but you and the wardens is swallowed by utter darkness.

It only lasts a moment, though. Once the shadow subsides, you find yourself seemingly somewhere else…