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[Jar - 1]
You sit, alone in a quiet room. You can't see. Can't feel. Can't hear, can't speak. All you can do is see, and think, and rage inside your head. Rattle around inside your consciousness, rail against the unfairness of it all. Burn for revenge you can never, ever hope to achieve on your own. You want to take a calming breath, want to clench your fists, want to scream out loud. You can't do any of this, because you have not lungs, nor fists. Nor body.

That is not strictly true. You have a body; you can see it from where you are. You know, on a fundamental basis, that you are inside that body, that the thoughts that are currently rolling around inside your head like a stormy sea are coming from the fragile skull over there. That the pain that threatens to wash over the walls of your mind and shatter you utterly comes from there. You know this, and yet you are looking at your own body, from one flat viewpoint, bordered with black.

They're letting you see what they've done to you.

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