We've all seen one of those B movies where another species live unseen alongside humans. Sometimes they are aliens, sometimes they are angels, but the formula is always the same.
The grey, concrete buildings of Addenbrookes are crammed daily with enough staff and patients to populate a small town. The campus is vast and has it's own shopping centre, burger bar and coffee houses. On a rare good day, a patient could spend the day shopping, having lunch and pretending they're not really in hospital at all.
If you were to walk through the doors into the vast concourse and stop to watch for a moment, you might think you've stumbled into the Ealing Studios.
The rainbow of staff, in their various uniforms or well tailored suits stride out with confidence across the marble floor. Their hair shines, their eyes glow, they are charged with determination. They stand tall with the restless air of those who have somewhere important to be. They don't see what you, the viewer can see, standing by the door.
You can see the others.
The others have loose flowing robes and strange machines. Their eyes look haunted and dull, their slow movements seem a lethargic parody of the bustle of the staff. They stoop and they shuffle, their hopes and dreams suspended indefinitely.
The two exist side by side but neither seem aware of the other at all.