The insanely bored housewives walking endlessly below stare at the screens anyway, pretending to themselves they can lip-read and understand what’s going on. Even giving a little giggle now and again to play along with the charade. It looks similar to cattle feeding from a trough to him. The TV’s pouring a weak mix of brain feed into their eyes to keep them docile and ready for milking.
They probably drove five miles to pretend walk on a machine while looking at a screen telling them nothing and breathing in recycled air and he laughs to himself: There’s that fuzzy line of insanity again. But wait… am I actually going to work out in my imagination? I guess they’re not the only ones who are crazy.
He decides to leave,