The first thing I noticed about my new surroundingswas that, like the handle, they were completely cool, too. Which confused the hell out of me.
When my eyes lifted to my surroundings, I became still more confused.
Therewereflames. A ring of fire, in fact, surrounding a group of thirteen terrified men and women.
But none of it was real.
The heat back there had all been a simulation, just like the scene in front of me was.
The scene was a projection, formed from apparently thousands of tiny light particles. A frighteningly real projection. The expressions on the trapped people’s faces could have fooled me were it not for the fact that their bodies were translucent. I could see through to the wall behind them.
I slowly picked myself up, wondering what I was supposed to do now. I’d reached them, right? That was all the computer man said I needed to do.
I took my first step toward the people and the scene suddenly disintegrated, morphing into a gauzy haze of blue and orange light.
A second later, there was a tumultuous sound of tons of metal sliding simultaneously back into position. It happened so fast, I almost missed it. The walls around me disappeared, retracting into the floors as panels shifted, making room for them and sucking them back in, until the maze was no more. Whatever had been—or appeared to have been?—following me was nowhere to be seen either.
Yet, one remnant of the test remained. The scene on the other side, where the right entrance would have led me. The scene with the little girl. I couldn’t make out her features properly from the distance, but she looked Caucasian. She was still crying and standing on some kind of raised platform. Like the adults, a ring of fire surrounded her, but herring had encroached much farther. It was practically licking at her ankles, appearing seconds away from touching her.
I stilled, wondering why I was being shown this. Was this part of the test? Was I being given a surprise second chance to save her, too?
I didn’t know, but instinctively moved toward her at a run, my feet hammering against the panels, my legs pumping despite my dehydration. As I neared and details of the scene became clearer, my stomach flipped at the color and texture of her hair. It was brown and curly.
I knew this was a simulation, but the coincidence was enough to tip off my shredded nerves. I sped up, needing to make out the rest of her features, but before I could get close enough, the flames reared up without warning, swallowing her small body whole. Her cries intensified to screams for several long, harrowing seconds, and then all went silent.
I watched the scene disintegrate, morph into a blue and orange haze, while I stood, shaking and inexplicably disturbed. The blood had left my face, my breathing coming in short, uneven bursts.
It was just a simulation. I knew that. But what was the purpose of showing me that?
Had I been wrong in choosing the adults, and witnessing the death of the child I’d failed was some kind of lesson or punishment?
Whatever the case, I was left with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and the ardent hope that this “screening” was finally over.
TWENTY-ONE
When the blueand orange light particles left behind by the two scenes died out, the chamber became pitch black again. I gazed around, waiting for the dim reddish lights to return, but they didn’t.
I brushed at the sweat on my forehead with the back of my hand, then wiped my clammy hands down over my pants. I hoped Anna would step through the door at any moment, but the fact that the lights hadn’t returned didn’t feel like a good sign.
I didn’t know if my mind or emotions could take another ordeal.
A glimmer of light drew my attention to the ceiling. More light particles had appeared there and were forming an image. Dark storm clouds, spitting down streaks of rain.
Drops of icy water hit my face and I jumped as a clap of thunder reverberated through the chamber. A strong gust of wind whipped past me, catching my frazzled hair.
Soon, the whole ceiling had transformed into a murderous sky, the blackish cloud formation extending, and then the lightparticles ran downward, creating a choppy ocean out of the floor, its color mirroring the dark sky.
A large boat appeared around me, a sturdy wooden deck lighting up beneath my feet. Opposite me, a second boat materialized—a much smaller one, with peeling paint and a battered body. It tilted perilously to one side, as if on the verge of sinking.
A man sat perched on its deck, his back to me, his shoulders hunched over. He wore a tattered white shirt and ripped dark pants. He was already drenched from the rain, his short black hair dripping and clinging to his skull.
The wind blew harder, and the light particles shifted, making it seem as though both boats rocked on the water. A bout of nausea overcame me from the motion, and I staggered, instinctively reaching to grab hold of the side of my boat—but of course, was met only with thin air. Steadying my feet, I fixed my eyes on the man straight ahead to combat the sensation, squinting through the rain. I supposed this was what seasickness felt like, and it was not pleasant in the slightest.
The rocking continued, the waves growing stronger and rougher around us, though my boat stayed steady, while the man’s canted dangerously.
“A hurricane is on its way,” the computerized voice suddenly announced, cutting through the thunder and the wind. “These waters will be ravaged, and the man will die. Convince him to board your boat and he will be saved.”
With that, the voice disappeared.
