Three rings lead to his voicemail.

Doctor E. Johnson,
Currently on the run.
Leave a message.
I'll return your call.

Beep.

"Give me a cubic centimeter of your flesh and I could give you pain that would swallow you as the ocean swallows a grain of salt. And you would always be ripe for it, from before the time of your birth to the moment of your death, we are always in season for the embrace of pain. To experience pain requires no intelligence, no maturity, no wisdom, no slow working of the hormones in the moist midnight of our innards. We are always ripe for it. All life is ripe for it. Always.”

― Jesus I. Aldapuerta, The Eyes: Emetic Fables from the Andalusian de Sade