The ticking of the clock and scrawling of lead across paper was deafening. The moisture coating my palms only reaffirmed my nerves. In a sea of lowered, motionless heads, the only movement detected was frantic scribbling onto scripts. The desperation saturated room was suffocating, stripping the room of all life. All persons in the room were adorned in a dull uniform, mindlessly scratching on their papers. The unmarked expense on my paper loomed over me and the hands of the clock threatened to end its journey. "10 seconds," the dictator announced. I unclasped my pencil, choosing to accept my imminent doom in liberation.