Maybe?

You find an old crashed fighter fighter. It's an ancient, rusted hulk covered in growth. What little survivng writing on the thing looks Japanese, and there's no power... but the radio looks like it might be intact. Who knows? Maybe you could attract some attention if you can figure out how to get it some voltage. How did batteries work again? Any two metals and an acid... you vaguely remember something about seawater working? Can't really raid the house, it's observed. Hmm.... you have nothing but time. Still, you're going to need tools.

You keep up the charade whenever you think you're maybe on camera, eventually abandoning language altogether. At about week three, Your old boss... your jailer, your observer... speaks up, "Well... I've finalized my report. I'll be turning it in tomorrow: The trial run is a failure, because it does not preserve the mind. Oh, and we've had people dig into your code and your notes. It's going to take ten years for anyone else to even understand this stuff. I mean... I get the justification for the spaghetti code: Code space is at a premium, this had to he as efficient as possible. So... the project is dead. And for what it's worth... I'm sorry. I don't know if there's enough of you left to understand... but I just didn't want to die. Of course, now I will, because they can't have witnesses. My betrayal bought me all of three weeks. Well... goodbye."

You keep up the charade... and a few days later on one of your hikes you see a large boat on the water. You initially think you might be saved... until until you see the smoke plume of the missile headed your way. You try to dodge...

It doesn't work. The missile hits close enough that the explosion throws you like a rag doll, shattering your bones and putting you in immense pain.... and immobile when the second shot hits you dead on.