[Cameron nods at him, getting her bearings, then glances around the office. If it's an illusion, it's impressive; every detail seems identical, nothing out of place or provided by imagination.
Which makes it seem all wrong.]
I don't think we're home.
[No calendar at first glance, but there are patient files on the desk. She doesn't recognize any of the names or laundry lists of symptoms, but it all seems perfectly plausible. Cameron would desperately like this to be real. But it's logically impossible. Her hair, their clothes, haven't reverted; their memories haven't vanished.]
Don't you think someone would've heard us fall? They just walked out... Try the door?
☞ paradise is close at hand in images of elsewhere
Which makes it seem all wrong.]
I don't think we're home.
[No calendar at first glance, but there are patient files on the desk. She doesn't recognize any of the names or laundry lists of symptoms, but it all seems perfectly plausible. Cameron would desperately like this to be real. But it's logically impossible. Her hair, their clothes, haven't reverted; their memories haven't vanished.]
Don't you think someone would've heard us fall? They just walked out... Try the door?