He hadn’t been to this part of the facility before. As the grey doors slid apart, he caught the scent of disinfectant…something he hadn’t smelled in his sequestered life he amid the aroma of homeopathic oils.
To his right was a row of treadmills facing away from the wall, their occupants looking facelessly ahead while trodging on obediently. Frail wires attached to contacts adhering to their limbs and torso bobbed gracefully in time with their movements each.
