The room was white, that much was certain. Its brightness was intoxicating. Two men stood over a small table, they were draped in white lab coats and held brown clipboards. Their arthritic hands jotted and scrawled down various notes and blurbs, and they occasionally looked up from their clipboard to observe what was on the table. The table was round, and it had three legs that were in contact with the white floor. At the center of the table was a small white mouse, belly up, red eyes staring into oblivion. The creature was dead. It had been dead for approximately four minutes and twenty-nine seconds. One of the scientists looked up over his board, and turned his head to look at his partner, who was furiously scrawling something.
"Do you know what we're doing?" He asked.
"Hmm?" The other scientist sounded far off, disinterested, as if he couldn't be pulled away from his writing.
"I mean, do you know what we're doing right now?" The scientist asked again. He looked down at his clipboard, the silver clip suspended a blank white piece of paper, and it seemed no matter what the scientist did to scratch notes onto the paper with his pen, nothing worked, and the paper remained blank.
"What do you mean? We're taking notes on this... This... This." He motioned the dead mouse with his pen, in a not very art-like way.
"Oh right..." The scientist picked his pen up and scrawled down that on his clipboard, and the scrawling continued. The two continued on in silence, scrawling on their clipboards, the noise like a buzzing bee, senseless and without consistency.
"Fascinating." Another figure in a gray coat pulled his head away from the small white box that held the miniature scientists and the dead mouse.
"We've managed to sustain some kind of temporal loop, and physical inconsistencies. They continue to scrawl notes, but they have no idea what they're actually doing... That they even exist..."