Low light. 17 prison beds screwed into each wall vertically, so that none can lie down. Mattress and bedding affixed to the frame, but there is gravity. Everything pulls and sags. In the center of the room: a hole.
Far down inside the hole, water. Empty water glasses are arranged in a circle around that hole, but there is no way to get the water out. Deeper than anyone’s arm. Too narrow for a body.
Alternating blasts: strong and dusty wind / scent of ammonia. The distance between our “moods” and their artificial proxies shrinks down.
In the center of the room, a spacecraft designed only for probing—its long blue solar-panel wings, its insect-like body, at rest. Dozens of bats dart through the darkened room. On all four walls: the filmed history of the sun—from birth to death—on loop.