Hello and Welcome
It begins with music. Edvard Grieg’s
Morning Mood, the perfect piece to start a wonderful and productive day. One by one, the people in the room stir. They come to, being greeted by the peaceful fluting piped in through rusty speakers hanging from the corners of the concrete walls.
First there is confusion. “Where am I? What is going on? Who are you?” These are the questions that they ask.
Then, there is fear. “Where am I!? What is going on!? Who are you!?” When they get no concrete answers as to their predicament, and they find that the only doors leading out of the room are firmly shut, the questions are asked again, more stridently this time.
And later on, there will be the call for calm, and for proper, polite introductions. People are predictable this way.
“Hi. I’m… uh… Aaron. I’m 22, and, uh, yeah. I’m kinda, like, finding myself at the moment… so…”
“You can call me Benton. I’m an OG businessman, you dig?”
“Hi! Caitlyn here… I’m 23 and I’m doing a course on the philosophical art of humanistic gendered theology. It’s nice to meet you all!”
“I’m Donna. I’m a fitness trainer.”
“E’gar.”
“Hello, I’m Francesca, and I’m the proprietor of the Jesus Saves Fiber-Rich Vegan Au Naturel Food Grocer Mart. I’m not sure if anyone of you have heard of us, but we have a very thriving Facebook and Twitter presence, and are at the forefront of organic foods in town…”
“Jesus what? You shittin’ me? Alright, I know they just fucking with us, man. I ain’t gonna have none of this shit, sitting around here with you guys like we’re cool or anything.” Benton is the first to stand up and kick at the locked doors in his frustration. As always, in any group of people you have the ones who are impatient and quick to resort to physical force. Though – to be fair to Benton – this was not his kind of crowd at all. Indeed, he thought that they were a…
Bunch of dumb motherfuckers.
Everyone hears it. Benton knows it, too. That his thoughts are, somehow, being broadcasted to the others. They stare at him.
“What the fuck?” he mouths.
Yeah, the fuck is going on?
Oh, oh my.
Gard’mmit.
Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit.
Everyone seems to have the same general opinion. Before they can proceed to panic, however, the music dies down, only to be replaced by Tchaikovsky’s
Waltz of the Flowers, a peaceful and calming orchestral waltz that – unfortunately – does absolutely nothing to soothe their emotions. Which is about what you would expect from such a selection of people.
“What’s with this shitty-ass music?” cries Benton.
“It is rather annoying,” Donna agrees solemnly. “I’d prefer something more uplifting, if they are going to force us to listen to music.”
“Wait, I recognize this song. It’s… it’s the Blue Danube waltz, isn’t it?” says Caitlyn brightly.
“Weaksauce…” mutters Aaron.
Buncha noobs. Heh.
“U-uh… no, I don’t mean anything by it, guys,” he splutters, as the glares are now directed towards him.
A large monitor on the wall lights up, drawing their attention.
Words appear on it, emblazoned on a cue card reminiscent of that seen in silent movies: black and white, and a whole lot of grain.
HELLO AND WELCOME. ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELVES?
“It has not been very enjoyable thus far, no offense,” laughs Francesca awkwardly.
IF YOU ARE NOT, TOO BAD. BUT YOU WILL SOON.
“Hey, fuck you, asshole!”
FOR NOW, LET US HAVE AN ICE-BREAKING SESSION.
OF COURSE, BY ICE, I MEAN HEAD. HA HA. HA HA. HA.
THERE ARE SIX OF YOU. ONLY FIVE OF YOU WILL LEAVE THIS ROOM. PICK ONE PERSON TO DIE. MAJORITY RULES.
The cue cards are replaced with a timer. The number cards flip every second. 59:59. 59:58.
“H-hey, it’s not serious, is it?” asks Caitlyn.
“It does sound like a bad joke, doesn’t it?” Donna frowns, scratching his beard. “It’s probably some reality TV prank. Let’s not pay it too much attention.”
Francesca has knelt down and begun praying out loud. “Dear Heavenly Father…”
Deliver me from evil, hallowed by thy name…
Her prayer resounds both in their ears and in their minds.
Caitlyn makes a frown of disgust. “Heavenly
father?” She snorts.
Religiotards…
None of them are taking the message seriously. But as time passes, and as the numbers of the timer approach the deadline, their will begins to waver. And they begin to seriously consider picking someone. Just in case. After all, it is probably just a prank. What harm is there in picking someone?
***
Group Vote
Vote for:
A. Aaron.
B. Benton.
C. Caitlyn.
D. Donna.
E. Edgar.
F. Francesca.
G. No one.