Ashley Bissel is staring at the ceiling, trying to think of butterflies.
She lies on a platform, her head held motionless by a white mesh mask that looks like a prop from a low-budget sci-fi movie. Technicians in white coats circulate around a sparse room and prepare equipment, as her mother cradles her hand.
Then the time comes for everyone to leave — everyone except Ashley, who raises her fist. In it is a novelty foam brain, which she gives a pronounced squeeze. The symbolism is lost on no one.