You stay in the control room. You do not want to revisit your first kiss. You do not want to relive prom. You are not interested in the technicolor memories of your own childhood, or the conversations you had with family about whether the color you see corresponds with the colors they see.
Instead, you keep replaying the conversation where you first learned about the burrito. The amazing potential of the perfect seasoning. The first and only time you were ever truly happy.
The man with the cigarette does not say anything. He sits in his chair, inhaling with a low and reedy breath, watching you watch yourself. In this room, in the pure light of the screens, you feel safe from the horrors.
You play it back again. The burrito rumor. The spark of possibility. The hope in you that burned.
You keep playing it back. Again and again. You will stay here forever.