Sisyphean, indeed.

[Petitioner]

I.N.D.E.N.T The gentle pneumatic hissing of the machinery, hidden in the walls, that operated the bunk door closing the portal behind him sounded, to Jimmy, like a gunshot aimed at his head mixing in with the malevolent screams of the uncaring lights. The repetitively criss-crossing X patterns of the rug looked for all the world like prison bars. Metal wall in front of him, metal door behind him, no windows out to space, no escape. Although there was more in his life, right now, all that Jimmy could even feint at remembering was every single stuffy hour, every monotonous minute, every miserable, oppressive second of his life spent in the halls of Level G.

I.N.D.E.N.T He staggered forward, nearly bumping his head against the sterile-white hallway wall a good couple feet in front of where he just stood. One hand reached out, reflexively, through the blinding familiarity of recycled air breathed a million times over already, and propped the rest of Jimmy's body up just before his forehead would've made the same collision. Worse than a thousand nights staring at that dim orange bulb dead center the ceiling, more jarring than the highest-realism-graded simulations of a cockpit cracking, was the sudden onset of nausea. Jimmy heaved all over the floor, and faintly considered maybe his body was warning him against leaving too much of himself in this place – parts of himself that janitors couldn't clean up, and parts that couldn't be replaced.