Inès, Estelle and Garcin share only conjectures as to why they have arrived in this place: an interior beyond life—without windows, without mirrors, without even the possibility to extinguish the light. Walled in tower-high, visited only occasionally by a peculiar waiter, they find themselves condemned to perpetual wakefulness. Even their eyelids have grown weary. Is this eternal monad the ultimate hell? Why have these three strangers—who never crossed paths in life—been confined together? What guilt has summoned them here? And do they already hold the instruments of each other’s torment in their hands, without knowing it?
