"And when the world sets the rules, then what it believes to be truth becomes fact."

He reaches over and cuts her a slice of a nearby pastry. It's some sort of tart with a red filling, the crust beautifully flakey.

As he hands her the plate, he continues.

"A slight adjustment there. The world sees that the cell is filled, but it cannot see anyone in there. The cell is simply unable to be occupied in its understanding, for the cell has become its own inhabitant. The secret inhabitant at the heart of the ruse thus goes from being in the cell to being a part of the cell, and the name and the face and the life of who that person might have been fade from the world as the world is convinced. Otherwise, a new cycle would have begun, with the cell's new inhabitant raging against its prison. And... perhaps that was the case, in the beginning. Only the Prisoner was willing."

There's a strange emphasis on the word 'Prisoner,' there, the meaning of which is not especially apparent.