15

I am part of a group of soldiers or fighters of some kind. Inside a warehouse, men enter with missing or damaged arms or legs and I control a stockpile of replacement arms and legs. I cannot see the fighting but I can hear it, rap music plays in the room that i'm in. It feels good to say encouraging words as I attach new body parts and send guys back outside. I'm unshaven and wear a white coat like a doctor's but I keep it unbuttoned, my shoes are untied. Katy is there at a computer. People check in and she tells them where to go. She's wearing thick glasses and a pearl necklace. I try to talk to her but she just tells me where to go. She points to a sad family in an isolated corner. Her wristwatch is hot pink and I feel dejected.