Don't look at me, Gene wants to snap, but bites down on the words. Even if this whole exercise hadn't been intended as punishment, punishment is what it's become.

He keeps trying to be good and do the right thing. But it doesn't matter. It never will. He's doomed to failure, to ruin, the eternal scapegoat for having tried.

He wants to dig his nails into his scalp, his skin, tear himself to pieces for his hubris. But he doesn't. At least, not yet. When Milyn asks, he says, "A little nauseous, actually," his voice still hoarse. But he's not sure if that's from the serum or his guilt.