As I sat in a small White room:

The walls are plaster and thin. On one side they contain blocks of concrete to keep out the rest of the world. On three sides, if I am quiet, I can almost make out interactions of other people. In front of me, when I press my ear against the wall, I hear a quiet moaning. He (she? One cannot tell) moans and giggles and calls out for people, sometimes by name, sometimes by title: BOB! uuuuhhhhhh MIRIAM! uuuuuhhhheeheehee FIREmanFIREmanFIREman uuuuuuuhhhhhh.
Behind me a woman is speaking a language I have never heard before. It has too many consonants, and sounds like a person trying to speak with a mouthful of pudding, ramming his fist in and out of it while trying to form sounds: Mmmm(shlorp)ng-k-tch!(shlorp)gHRKgHRKgHRK ahhh ngaaauuu(shlorp).
It's the man to my left who scares me. He just keeps whispering "Not that anybody noticed," louder and softer, over and over again, up and down like a sine wave. Sometimes I can't hear him at all; sometimes his voice echoes in my ears and I feel the need to cry out, but I don't. I'm afraid he'll hear.