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Night. A shortage of actual beds meant that a few of them had taken to making do at various spots inthe supply-cum-common room. Kevin Lomax hogged the room's only sofa and adamantly refused toshare, glaring at anyone who came within a metre of him.The same group of four huddled in a corner behind the bookshelf engaged in their quiet game of cards.From somewhere near the floor on the other side of the room came the sound of muffled homesicksobs.Only one light had been left on, just above the table in the kitchenette area where not-Tim sat. The cardplayers were too engrossed in their game to pay attention to him. They did not see as he dropped hishead down into his hands, long sleeves slipping a little to reveal a wrist tag that read: 206/964/REE.In the safety of the night, he could drop the act a while and have the nervous breakdown that had beenlong coming.Although he's only here because he asked to come. He could have been far away in the real world now,never getting the chance to see what it was like in here; heck, all he had to do was ask one of the staff,and he could get a free teleport out right now.But he couldn't just leave the rest of them to die. He felt responsible for everyone on the fourth floor.They wouldn’t have been here in the first place if not for him.Not that they suspected anything; he was just the somewhat drunk guy who for some reason knew themall by name without being told. Stranger things happened in Kenselton Hotel.Not-Tim raised his head from his hands and gazed at the group of four playing cards, only to bebesieged again almost at once by a feeling of extreme self-consciousness.He felt terribly alone.Keanu reached for another bottle of rum and tried not to think about it.**The door opened, and Alex Wyler walked in in search of a drink of water. He glanced briefly at not-Tim,head on the table either asleep or passed out from too much rum, and grabbed a glass off the shelfbefore going to fill it at the water cooler.The cornflakes guy was curled up peacefully under the table, fast asleep and nuzzled against not-Tim'slegs.Alex heard the crying from the other end of the room. Finishing his drink, he walked over and pausedbefore the trembling form of a teenager on the floor, his back to him."You okay?"The crying abruptly stopped and was replaced by an angry silence. Lying on the carpet, Ron Petrieswallowed and tried to reclaim some of his dignity."Go away," he said, glaring at the wall and not turning to see who had come.Alex duly complied. Ron was left on his own again, furious at himself for the tears and filled with arenewed passion of hate for this place that had cheerfully stripped him of his individuality and laughed inhis face. All those years trying to be different, and now this...