After paying my fee, we stepped into the room. It looked like a cyber café from the nineties: long tables lined with computer terminals, but also a few overstuffed easy chairs where people sat reading. Through the windows on the far wall, afternoon sun fell in rectangles on the floor. A door off to the side was shut tight, a paper sign taped to it: QUIET. “Here you are,” the employee said quietly. “If you’ll notice, time has stopped.” I tugged back the sleeve of my dress and glanced at my wristwatch. The second hand hovered mid-tick, perfectly still. “Once…