There’s a cage that’s made of lead, with no corners and no end, but tiny, the size of a wrecking ball. There’s a man in it, on his fours in a deafening darkness. His breath is short and strained. There’s a chain holding this cage, suspended above on a flat roof, high and hard.
The chain is balanced in air by a balloon, within which is bound a young lady. This lady is gagged, her hands tied behind her back. The balloon has thin fabric. She doesn’t fidget around lest she breaks it and falls on the spikes on the floor.
The man in the lead cage cannot hear her screams, so it doesn’t make sense that she’s gagged, or that the balloon’s fabric is thin and translucent. The lady cannot see him, so there’s no point in screaming, because neither can he. There’s no conflict of interest, whereby one wrong move kills either, or both. And the air in their enclosures runs thin. It’s either death by choice, or death by fate. Waiting it out, even without thinking or knowing about the other’s welfare means death by asphyxiation. One mistake or not means brutal death to either.
Even in choice, there’s no choice, the inevitable is already decided.
TODO 