I could say something here about gender roles or our unhealthy relationships with technology.

I could even talk about how the wily duct work in the background is an unintentional nod to Terry Gilliam’s “Brazil”.

And, sure, all of that is here.

For me the power of this narrative is actually the interplay with you, the audience. Our heroine looks at you for judgement, almost daring you to stop her.

But her mind is made up. She chooses to give in to the beckoning orange glow and allow it to take her whole. To envelope her.

Why?

The absurdity here is that we even ask why.

It’s not for us to decide.

It never was.

machine