[A middle-aged gentleman in a suit and tie, stubbornly overdressed despite the heat, is sitting in the shade not too far from the river. His arms are folded, his brows are drawn, and - rather unbecomingly - he's muttering to himself.]


This must be a ruse. There's no scientific basis to anything they've said.


[He pinches the bridge of his nose and stares up towards the leafy canopy he's taken shelter beneath]


I need to relax. I need to relax and ascertain how they're inducing the symptoms.


[Reaching inside of his coat, he pulls out a notebook and pen, and begins to write]


Poison, some kind of pathogen...