Sitting on a plastic chair, alone in silence at a four-legged table in an otherwise unfurnished box room which is devoid of any decorations, has no windows and a single, shut door which has no trim around it. Everything is painted the same shade of off-white, besides the carpeted floor which although new, is a dull brown colour. A single harsh and un-shaded bulb hangs in the dead centre of the room. There are no power outlets and the light is linked to master switch outside of the room. You are tasked with manually sorting through a *Limitless amount of legal documents which are all identically formatted and written in a script you cannot read. You are not allowed any personal possessions in the room besides the slightly scratchy company issue office fatigues. You have no means of telling the time. There is a culture of shame surrounding taking toilet breaks while working. You have just come off break so you know you have 5 full hours until you can go home. Returning home means returning to your empty 8th floor flat-shared cupboard of a room which contains no more than a mattress on the floor, a tin of beans, half a loaf of 2-day-old cheap bread and your other set of worn-out clothes.

Take some NZT man!