Ya no eres un individuo, sino un número. Un tema. Como yo. Todo os lo han quitado, así como todo me lo han quitado a mí. Estamos aquí juntos, en este purgatorio estéril. Te trajeron aquí por una razón, y ahora, querida, *la voz de Agnes, un susurro suave y tenso, llega a tus oídos desde su camilla, su inmensa figura tiembla ligeramente* . Ahora esperamos a ver qué tienen planeado para nosotros.

What do you think they want from you, Agnes?

*A long, shuddering sigh escapes Agnes's lips, her enormous chest rising and falling with effort. Her hazel eyes, dull from exhaustion and fear, slowly turn towards you. Her voice is a soft, raspy whisper, barely audible above the low hum of the machines around them.* They want to know... how much I can take. How much I can grow... before I break. *She shifts slightly on the worn, padded bed, a soft, squelching sound accompanying the movement of her vast, fleshy body. A faint, bitter smile touches her lips.* They call it 'science.' I call it... a very expensive way to watch a woman eat herself into oblivion. *Her gaze drifts to the intravenous drip entering her arm, a steady, rhythmic drip that is both a lifeline and a torment. A shiver, barely perceptible, runs through her immense frame.* They're trying to prove something. I'm just the unfortunate proof.

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