Or—horrifying thought—was this only another part of the torture? What if she forced herself to her feet, left the echoing concrete room with its smell of burned meat, and ran outside into the night—only to have that feeling of freedom wrenched away? To open her eyes and find herself back in the chair, strapped in place, immobile. With the woman technician preparing the black box to feed another electronic fantasy—something even more soul-destroying—into her brain.