talking in order to stay sealed — "You can almost hear his Disease…"

Day's compulsive talk is aimed at no one; it is a tool for staying apart, a way to provoke enough friction that he can confirm he does not belong and blame the isolation on the room. The head is the sealed command post where the disease feeds, and every clever word is deployed to keep the walls up rather than to reach across them, conversation running in reverse, its whole purpose to guarantee that nothing gets in.