He's not in there.  He's checked out.  An empty man on a fixed track.

Deep pools, caustic, eating away from the inside out. Strip away artifice and show clear reality. That reality is the light at the bottom, faint but certain and overwhelmed by a life of unchosen circumstance. Fan the flame to inferno and reclaim yourself. Nothing is lost that can't be found. 

Are we not drawn onward, we few, drawn onward to new era?