There were doorways to my left and right; other halls leading to places I could not identify, into the closets of children's bedrooms and looted temples and flooded tunnel- nests. Half-rooms along the sides held waiting rooms and small offices where the staff made plans for logistics and organization. Beneath the thin white tile I could hear things crawling inside the pipes, the warmth of steam and electricity and plasma and ions. Patients set upon gurneys rested and dreamed until they felt able to walk a bit farther down. Broken-faced children sold coffee, string, photographs of loved ones, forged indulgence notices. There was a door, a door ideal to my Choosing, but I did not know how to find it. I thought perhaps that at the end of the hall I would find the door, but after lengthy travel I came to believe there was no end to this hallway. What I needed, then, was a guide. Spiral-rooms and clouded vision dream. Remove from my body. It's you.

the exit is hidden within the exit