The Drowned Man Games : The Orange Room.

We’ve essentially reached the computer room; Indigo has already sat down at his desk, though he turns now to watch the commotion. I swivel where I stand and stare right into Violet’s face.

“What the hell did you just say?” I ask her.

We’re all staring at her now, waiting for her to explain.

Violet looks between us, suddenly flustered and tries to brush it off. “None of your business”, she says.

“Actually”, Red cuts in, “if it affects the rest of us, then it IS our business. Do you know this woman?” he gestures to Orange, bewilderment writ across her face.

“Violet”, I say, a little gentler, forcing myself to calm down. “If we’re going to get through this, we need to be open and we need to be honest. We need to learn how we’re connected”.

Violet hesitates. Seemingly weighting up her options, then: “…yes. I know her. alright. Though I guess she doesn’t know me”.

She sighs and shoves past, heading into the computer room to sit down at her desk. She re-tucks her hair behind her ear. “She’s the director of the orphanage I went to”.

“You’re an orphan?” Red muses, thinking this over.

“What of it?” Violet snaps back with a warning glare, expecting some abuse, or mocking, perhaps, from the group.

…None comes.

“So you know this woman? You’ve met her? You know her name?” Green asks.

Violet takes a moment before she responds again. “Yes”, she says eventually. “She was the director for as long as I was there, at least. Five years. I don’t know if she still is and I know her name. Her real name”.

She glances at the woman to whom she refers. “I only had the privilege of meeting ‘Orange’ on about two occasions and she was a total kutiya both times. A real b*tch”.

Orange has her head cocked to one side, and after listening to everything Violet has to say she finally responds.

“Yes…” she says, and everyone turns to her.

“Yes I remember you. I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name, but… the orphanage was large, as I’m sure you remember. Hundreds and hundreds of kids, though from what I do recall, you were a n*sty piece of work”.

The atmosphere sours.

“…A real bully to the other girls”.

Violet jumps back up from her desk and storms angrily forwards, jabbing a finger into Orange’s face.

“I did what I had to do to maintain my STATUS!” Violet replies in a voice both cold and sharp.

“Ladies, please have a little decency!” Red barks, pushing them apart. Violet doesn’t even look at him.

“Your STATUS?” Orange interrupts, with a laugh. She has adopted an almost entirely different manner, it’s fascinating, really… as if her inner ‘director’ has suddenly been triggered. Perhaps this is what she is like on the outside.

“Yes, my STATUS! You might find that really funny, and I wouldn’t be surprised. Your never gave a sh*t about us. About the kids you were responsible for. Your mismanagement was a f*cking disgrace. If I didn’t act all tough all the time to keep my reputation up they’d have eaten me alive in there”.

Orange shakes her head. “You exaggerate. Of course I care for the children, but there are so many of you, I can only do so much-”

“You did nothing. You failed us”, Violet spits. “So don’t you dare call me a bully, you b*tch. Don’t you f*cking dare. I won’t hear it. I didn’t have the background to meet your ‘nicety’ standards. Probably never will. So suck it up”.

Fuming, she returns to her desk for a second time, indicating that the argument, for now, is done.

Orange is flustered, and turns to the rest of us in appeal. “I tried my best”, she mutters.

“I do try my best. Always. I’m-” she hesitates, then glances over to Violet. “…I’m sorry I let you down”.

Violet makes no indication that she heard, though the tension all around us eases, ever so slightly.

…There is a silence, but the for the sound of Violet tapping away on her keyboard and after a moment, Indigo begins tapping away too.

“Alright then…” Red grunts, looking around. “If anyone else has anything to share then now is the time to do it. Do we know anybody else in here..?”

Nobody responds. I look from face to face. I certainly don’t know any of these people. Yellow lifts her head, she opens her mouth as if to speak… then decides against it.

I catch this motion, however and so does Red. He turns to her at once.

“You know something, don’t you girl!” he says, then louder. “Come on, spit it out! There are lives at stake here! We need to know WHY we’ve been chosen for this farce... ANY information at all-”

“I- I don’t know, sorry”, Yellow mutters, looking at the ground as Red continues to speak over her.

“ANY information that might be relevant and you HAVE TO SHARE!” he says, almost shouting now. “For the good of the GROUP!”

“Hypocrite”, says Blue levelly.

Red shifts the focus of his attention. “Excuse me?”

“I called you a hypocrite”, she says again. “Don’t berate this poor girl for what YOU’VE perceived as ‘failing to share information’, when you’re clearly hiding something about that ridiculous f*cking scarf you’re wearing”.

Red hesitates.

“She has a point”, I tell him. “Look, Red, you’re the only one with such an item of clothing. You’re clearly hiding something about it, so why don’t you just-”

“Fine!” he shouts, closing his eyes and holding up his hands. “For God’s sake, if you really think it’s that important… I won’t be accused of being a damned hypocrite”.

He snarls and grumbles under his breath at Blue, before speaking on. “You really wanna know? Well I… I stole it, alright? I stole it from some street urchin”.

Blue snorts in derisive surprise. Green grimaces and an uncomfortable lull descends.

“You… you what?” I ask him. “You stole a scarf from some homeless person on the street, is that what you’re saying?”

“Look, it doesn’t make me sound like a saint, I get it”, Red begins, carefully. “But I needed it, alright? I was heading to my nephew’s house, it was his birthday, I’d forgotten to get him a gift…” he stumbles over his words a little.

“Look, the kid has a rough situation at home, alright! He needs an adult he can trust, and I promised I’d come see him for his birthday and bring him a gift-”

“So why didn’t you just buy one?” Blue asks. “Or did you just feel like robbing, perhaps the ONLY piece of personal property some street boy actually owned?”

“For fuck’s sake, it was a warm damned summer, he wasn’t gonna need it!” Red splutters in response.

“Everywhere was closed, it was late! And I was nowhere near the market districts anyway... And I was going to get them a new one, I swear it! I went back to the same exact spot less than two days later with a store-bought, brand new scarf and they were gone! No trace of them! I tried again, and even for a third time but there was nobody there. I even left the replacement scarf in the same place. Maybe they found it and took it, I don’t know”.

The man has flushed a little closer to the colour of paint splashed down the side of his face. “You’re all making way too big a deal of this!” he says accusingly, despite the fact that so far, only Blue and I have actually questioned him.

“I borrowed some urchin’s scarf and I planned to get him a new one. It ain’t my fault that it didn’t quite work out that way”.

“It is your fault”, Indigo says quietly, surprising us. We look over at him, but he’s still typing. “You stole from someone with less than yourself. It’s entirely your fault”.

“…B*stard”, Red mutters, but he has no desire to die on this particular hill, it’s obvious.

“I don’t know why this thing is wrapped around my neck”, he says.

“I certainly wasn’t wearing it any time recently, or indeed, ever. Haven’t even seen the thing for months. The only reason I haven’t thrown it away yet is the belief that it might have been given to me for a reason. That it might become useful later”.

The man pauses for breath, and then decides he’s said enough. Eyes downcast, he pushes past us to his desk, sitting down at his computer and staring at the screen.

He seems to have forgotten entirely about questioning Yellow, for now.

I consider this sudden influx of news.

Violet knows Orange. She attended an orphanage; of which Orange is the director.

No-one else seems to know anyone. Just these two. Yellow, maybe, but it’s hard to tell with her.

And Red… Red stole that scarf off a ‘street urchin’. Someone homeless, at least and now it’s wrapped around his neck and draped down his shoulders.

I try to understand for what purpose. To grasp what message might be being sent out here. It’s a clue, for sure, but what does it mean?

I try to imagine the scarf’s original owner. I try to see his face, the moment he awakes from his slumber in the dust by the side of some building in the slums, maybe… when realises his-potentially-prized possession has gone missing…

…I shake my head. Maybe Red’s being punished for his sins.

I glance around as my fellows go to their desks in thoughtful quiet.

Maybe we’re all being punished for our sins.

…So what’s YOUR sin, then, eh, ‘Grey’? What could you possibly have done to warrant getting forced into such a place as this..?

…

…Nothing comes to mind.

I slump down at my desk. Looking at the screen of my computer.

It’s exactly the same as the previous one.

A blank document is all that is displayed, and at the top reads:

YOU HAVE FORTY-FIVE MINUTES. YOU MAY RECORD YOUR THOUGHTS HERE. AFTER FORTY-FIVE MINUTES IS UP THEY WILL BE SENT OUT.

I glance up to the timer above the door, though it remains fixed at:

45:00

Curious.

I sigh and stretch my fingers, and begin typing away. I’ve committed, now. It isn’t until a few minutes into my typing that the timer actually starts dropping down:

44:59

44:58

44:57

-and I wonder if perhaps it waits for the previous timer to finish before starting. The one in the Red Room, which gave us a ten minute ‘head-start’.

…Something to consider, but not particularly pressing right now.

I do my best to journal the events of the previous room; typing away.

*

00:03

00:02

00:01

00:00

The computer screens cuts to black. I lean back in the crappy little chair and massage my wrists. I think I got everything down. I really do hope these are going somewhere. It does kind of feel like a waste of energy…

…I don’t know what the others typed this time. Orange wrote another letter to her daughter, and one to her husband, I think. Not sure what Yellow wrote, but it was barely a paragraph. No clue about the others.

The door to the next room- marked clearly with orange paint-begins to grind and creak, and we all turn to look as it slides sideways and into the wall, out of sight...

…The room beyond is brighter than the previous, though not by much. We head on in, to find a single beam light attached to the ceiling, illuminating a wall directly in front.

There are two ways to go: left, or right.

The wall has a load of imagery scrawled across it.

An arrow, in black, pointing to the left, accompanied by splashes of the following colours:

Red; Yellow; Indigo; Violet.

…And an arrow pointing to the right, accompanied by marks of:

Orange; Green; Blue, and White.

We consider.

“Should we do what it says?” Green asks the group. “Or go against it?”

I glance to Red, expecting him to pipe up, but he is uncharacteristically quiet, lost in his thoughts.

Blue speaks instead. “We might as well just do what it says. If we go the wrong way and have to double back then we’re just wasting time”.

“Wasting time?” Yellow said.

“There’s been a timer in every room so far”, Blue says. “Except the very first one, I guess. There’s probably going to be another in here. It might well have already started”.

“Well what are we waiting for then”, Violet says, pushing past the group and striding down the path to the left.

“Best of luck”, Indigo says to us, and then he too follows behind.

Red looks to Yellow and makes a gesture. “Let’s get this over with”, he mutters. “When going through Hell, keep going…” and once Yellow has begun to make her way down to the left, he goes along with her.

“Good luck, everyone”, Yellow squeaks to us before she vanishes round a corner and out of sight.

“Right”, says Blue. “Let’s do this. You guys ready?”

Green and I share a look, murmuring a reluctant assent. Orange stays quiet, though she nods in agreement.

To the right we go, around the corner and between two narrow and dimly lit walls.

…I hear the sound of the door grinding shut behind us.

“So… you’re the director of an orphanage?” I ask Orange as we walk.

“Yes, that’s right”, she says. “Mumbai. Just under four-hundred and fifty children”.

“That’s a lot”, Green says from just beside us.

“…Yes”, she says. “Yes, it is”.

“I don’t blame you for forgetting Violet”, I tell her. “I don’t think I’d be able to remember so many names and faces”.

“She has changed her appearance in the last couple of years, yes”, says Orange. “That purple streak in her hair… the piercings… But still. Still. I should have recognised her, and she is right. I could have done better for her”.

She sighs. “I need to do better. If I ever get out of here, I promise; I will do better. We will find more staff. Put them through the proper training, no cut corners…” she clears her throat and rubs her neck.

“Her words have had quite the impact on me, it would seem”.

I didn’t say anything further. We walk from here on in silence.

It isn’t long however before the walls open out into a smallish, rectangular room. Overhead is a long, orange beam light, casting its glow over the only object in the room.

…And it’s a hell of an ‘object’, alright,

The centrepiece of this damp, and otherwise empty room, is what at first glance appears to be a table, the flat surface of which has been knocked awkwardly to one side.

Closer inspection reveals it to be a game.

Each of the ‘table’s’ four sides has a handle, and contained in the table’s surface itself is an intricate wooden maze. It appears to be one of those ‘tilting’ games, where by tilting the table, you can make a ball roll through passages of the maze, the aim of which being to get it from one side to the other, without dropping it into any of the gaps or holes.

“…It’s a game”, Green says, adjusting his glasses. “I recognise this. They have them in escape rooms and stuff sometimes”.

Orange looks like she’s seen a ghost. “My daughter loves these. My husband built one in our house for her to play”. She runs a hand through her hair.

“They’re mocking me. They have her down here. I knew it. They have her. They have her down here in this horrible place”.

“It’s probably a coincidence”, I tell her. “There’s no proof at all that your daughter is down here. We’ve seen no evidence, no evidence at all. So please, remain calm, and let’s get through this, okay?”

“…There’s no screen in this room”, Green says, suddenly. “It isn’t giving us the rules”.

“I suppose we have to assume it’s the same as the previous”, says Blue. “Fifty minutes til the door opens. Sixty minutes til it seals forever”.

As if in direct response, something flashes on the wall just overhead. We all look up to see another timer, as expected, and it begins to tick its way down.

60:00

59:59

59:58

“Okay”, Blue puts a hand on Green’s shoulder. “Green, keep going. Go out through that way at the opposite end of the room and see where the corridor leads; if there are any further hints or places to go, or things to do”.

“Right”, he says, setting off at once in the direction of travel.

There’s a wooden clunking from the table, and a ball rolls lazily in from the side, and into view.

…The ball, and all the intricacies of the table’s maze cannot be interacted with. There is a thick plexiglass window preventing us from manually moving the ball from one end to another. The only way to move it is by tilting the table, and making it roll.

We hear, very faintly in the distance, the sound of someone shouting and ranting, though we cannot make out the words.

…It sounds very much like it could be Red’s voice.

I can imagine the things he might be saying quite clearly in my head:

‘A GAME!? A bloody fairground GAME? They’re sh*tting on us! The people who put us down here! That Asura bastard! He’s sh*tting on us!’

“So what?” I ask aloud, looking at the women beside me. “We complete the game; get the ball to the other side, and we get the cards?”

“Likely”, Blue replies. “Or half of them, since the others are probably playing something similar”.

Orange is examining the table. “There’s a slot right here”, she says from the other end. “It’s card-sized… I guess this is where they’ll come out from?”

“Then let’s do this”. I roll up my sleeves, still damp from my trip into the dark pool. I grab hold of the handle of the nearest side. Orange takes the one to my right, and Blue the one opposite. Green will take the handle to my left when he returns.

“To you, Orange”, I say, watching the table as we steadily tilt it to the right. The ball rolls down a little wooden passage and knocks up against a wall. It needs to go to Blue, now, but that requires us to navigate it around a hole into the unknown.

…Allow me to briefly describe the table.

The ball has a long way to go, from one side to the other. The beginning is a series of wooden walls; maze-like. And a series of simple holes to avoid. After this, it gets a little more complicated. The ball has to be led past a tiny, miniature statue of the Asura, the supposed ‘game-master’ of this terrible place, and past a wide, rectangular hole into the darkness below.

Beyond this is a further maze, though much more contained, and narrow. There are two passages that lead directly into a hole. Beyond this are a series of other obstacles. A pipe-like tunnel that the ball has to pass through. A little circle of the table that is, somehow, spinning independently of anything else. By clockwork, perhaps, or some other unseen mechanisms beneath the table’s surface.

Beyond this are other barriers and dangerous routes for the ball, including a long and winding ‘river’ of sorts, snaking its way round the edge of the table. Finally, the ball must pass beneath a pair of intricate wooden scales and into the ‘deposit slot’ at the table’s end.

We are operating on the assumption that this final place for the ball to come to rest will trigger the appearance of the cards we so desperately need.

“How hard can it be?” I ask aloud, words I will quickly come to resent.

We pass by the first hole with ease, and I am met with a rush of elation.

This is going to be a breeze, I think. We’ll have the cards with time to spare. We can go and help the others.

…”Alright, bring it down to me”, says Blue.

“Wait”, I say, “it needs to be tilted slightly towards the left. Orange, lift just a little-”

There is wooden clatter as the ball rolls into the hole and is lost to the void.

Disappeared.

“Alright, well, that was just the first try. We’ll go again”, I say, glancing up to the timer.

58:07

58:06

58:05

We try a second time, and the ball is likewise taken by the same hole.

The ball clatters, and is lost.

Green returns.

“Hey, quick, take your place at the table”, says Blue. “Did you find anything?”

“No”, he says. “There’s nothing. Just smooth wall. It leads around and ends up at the next door. It’s got yellow paint across it. It also links back up with the other team. I met Violet coming up from there; same story, a wooden maze-game like this one”.

“Then let’s get it over with”, Blue says with determination, and we try again.

We make it past the second hole, this time, and the third. With a hasty tilt towards Green the ball knocks into the miniature statue of the Asura, and falls through the long, rectangular hole right by it.

The ball clatters, and is lost.

“Sh*t”, mutters Green, as the next ball appears at the start with an accompanying little mechanical whirr.

“You were too quick on pushing it up, Orange. Next time just let me ease it back”.

“It was heading right for that hole”, Orange retorts, gesturing to a circular hole by the rectangle. “If I hadn’t done anything it would have rolled right into it”.

“Guys-” Blue cuts in. “Just keep going”. She rolls her neck and stretches her back, before returning her attention to the table.

We go again.

The ball clatters, and is lost.

We go again.

The ball clatters, and is lost.

We get it past the rectangle. Through the little tunnel and onto the slowly rotating circular panel for the first time. We take a moment to consider our next move, and in our hesitation, the ball is rolled around by the panel.

“F*ck, we have to move it right away- Blue up to you”.

“No”, she says. “Not too much. Grey just ease it up ever so slightly”.

“Orange”, says Green, his voice thick with stress. “Quick, quick-”

We are careful with the table, but it isn’t it enough. The ball is rolled around and is nudged right into a hole.

The ball clatters, and is lost.

Green slams a hand down onto the wood. “Goddammit!” he shouts as Blue runs her fingers through her hair, exhaling deeply through her nose.

I consider these developments. I glance at the timer.

42:40

42:39

42:38

Almost twenty minutes down and we don’t have a single card. The fear is returning, now. That cold panic. The deep dread, with occasional, lurching spikes of terror. Thoughts come to my mind of becoming trapped down here, between these featureless walls with only the maze-game to keep me company until I lose my mind, or starve to death.

I rub my jaw.

We go again.

We fail at the second hole, again.

The ball clatters, and is lost.

We go again.

We make it to the rotating platform.

“Bring it back to ME!” Blue shouts, sweating.

“F*CK’S SAKE, NO!” Green blurts out as the ball wobbles around the very edge of a hole.

“Fuck, bring it- bring it around a LITTLE to Blue, but Green not so high!” I put forth as the ball rolls precariously between two voids.

Orange tries to speak up- “the safest path is back towards me. Blue, slowly lower it back to Grey; Green, just-”

She is interrupted. “BACK!” Green shouts, “BACK, BACK!”

The table lurches. The ball clatters, and is lost.

“FOR F*CK’S SAKE!” He shouts, throwing his hands up into the air. Blue groans and rubs her hands across her face, wiping them on the sides of her trousers afterwards.

“This isn’t working”, I say out loud.

Blue begins a retort, but I cut her off, perhaps a little rudely.

“Blue, just one second- sorry-” I turn to Orange. “Orange. You said you had one of these things in your house, right? Earlier, you said your husband made one for your daughter”.

She nods. “Yes, that’s right”.

“Then you’ll have had the most practice. Out of all of us here”.

She shifts, “well, I suppose, probably-”

“And you’re a director. You run a whole operation back home. A massive one. You KNOW how to lead; so come on, take charge here. Please. Come on, just tell us what to do and we’ll do it, we’ll work together”.

Green looks between us. Blue is not convinced, it’s plain across her face, and Orange herself is doubtful.

“I don’t know…” she says, “I don’t think-”

“You can do this”, I tell her. I reach out and squeeze her shoulder. “Take the lead. You can do it. We all want out of here. We trust your judgement”. I make quick eye contact with Blue and Green, who remain silent.

“…Alright”, she says, shooting a look of her own up to the timer. “Okay, let’s do this”.

And so we do.

The three of us remain silent, doing to the best of our abilities exactly what it is that Orange tells us to do, and as the table would have it, we make it all the way from one side to the other, failing only at the very final hurdle, right beneath the scales, when Blue tips it a little too far in her direction.

The ball clatters, and is lost.

“Okay, it’s okay!” I say pre-emptively. “That was the furthest we’ve got so far”. My heart pounds. I try to avoid looking at the timer. It’ll only stress me out. I know we don’t have long left. “Let’s try again. Exactly as before. We got this”.

“We’ll go again”, says Orange. “Everyone ready?”

“Yes”, we say in the affirmative, sweat leaking down our backs, and we go again.

…Slowly, steadily, rolling the ball through this ridiculous little life or death game. It taps against the walls. It ambles its way around the edges of the holes. The table is kept in a vice-like state of control and fevered concentration, the pounding of the blood in my veins getting stronger and stronger as we approach the table’s far end.

“Steady now”, says Orange. “Grey, a little back to you. Green, hold”.

...The ball rolls.

“Now the slightest bit to me… Grey, level it out”.

The table tilts.

The ball rolls…

…And it passes beneath the scales and into the end-zone. The drop-point. The table makes a pleasant mechanical noise that we haven’t yet heard before. Orange herself makes an exclamation of success.

“YES!” Green yells, pumping his fist in the air. “Orange you BEAUTY!”

Blue exhales, tension visibly leaving her body, and her face is brightened by the first grin I’ve seen from her all night.

…It’s gorgeous, actually.

“We did it! We did it!” I exclaim, partly in disbelief, hastily making my way around the table to the groove that Orange identified earlier. “We actually did it!”

From this groove, the first card begins to appear as the mechanisms whirr. Green reaches down to pluck it out and we wait for the next one.

…

…Except, there is no next one.

…We hear the sound of the ball returning to the beginning of the game, and I feel a cool wave of despair wash over me.

“It’s… just the one”, says Orange. “You get one card for every time you complete the game…”

We all look back to the timer.

21:02

21:01

21:00

“Three more to go”, I mutter. “Oh, God. Right. We can do it. We did it once, we can do it again”.

“I wonder how the others are getting on…” Orange asks.

“Don’t worry about them”, says Blue. “We have ourselves to worry about here. Prioritise. Focus”.

We look down to the card. The unspoken question in the air is: ‘who should get to use it?’

…I’m the first to speak, though I’m sure I’m speaking aloud the thoughts of the others. “Orange, you should take it. It’s thanks to you that we got it”.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

Green takes a moment to think, and then sighs, handing it over to her. He makes himself smile. “He’s right”, he says. “You deserve it”.

She takes it, with a nod. “…Thank you”, she says, as she slots it into her collar. It beeps, and chimes.

“Come on then guys”, says Blue. “We go again”.

…We go again.

*

The timer ticks down and we continue our strategy. Slowly, painstakingly moving that damned ball through the maze.

We make it to the opposite side flawlessly, for the second time in a row.

We receive another card. Green is the first to it. He doesn’t rush, there are no hasty grabs… But there isn’t any discussion, either. He raises it up to his collar and slides it in. It beeps, and chimes. The relief in his face is palpable.

“Alright”, he says. “We go again. Two more”.

The table tilts. The ball shifts from place to place.

We lose it again, once more, to a round of suppressed swears and glances to the timer… But we power through, and with white knuckles we finally retrieve our final two cards. The penultimate going to Blue, just as I suspected, and the last to me.

Is it my colour? Is that it? …They all feel the same way. That as ‘Grey’ I’m not worth as much as the others. I’m not needed to open the final door. I’m the ‘expendable’ one…

I slide the card into my collar and it beeps and chimes, and we all collapse backwards against the wall, aware of the ache in our long-tensed muscles and weary from the force of the concentrated willpower.

The timer shows us that we have about five minutes to spare.

“Come on then. Let’s get to the door”, says Blue, and we go, groaning but relieved… us triumphant and exhausted four, heading down the corridor to the yellow door.

I don’t fail to notice that we pass by another of those curious, barred-off vents, up high near the ceiling. I consider asking Green why he failed to mention it, but I just can’t be bothered. He probably didn’t think it's worth mentioning.

I’m actually looking forwards to the forty-five minute respite at the computers. Maybe I’ll go a little easier with the writing this time… I do tend to get carried away once I’m on a roll.

…But as we approach the open doorway, we all realise…

“The others aren’t here”, says Orange, and we come to a stop, hesitating.

The timer above the door reads the same as the one by the game:

04:12

04:11

04:10

“Oh, shit”, Green says, wheeling around to look down the opposite corridor. Voices can be heard, and, making a choice, I run down to find the others. Blue, Orange and Green all stay behind.

“Get them to hurry!” calls Blue as I round a corner and sprint between the walls.

I stumble to a halt in a room identical to ours, although obviously the individuals around the table are different.

“WRONG!” shouts Red, slamming his fist against the wood. “YOU DON’T LISTEN! YOU DON’T FUCKING LISTEN YOU STUPID GIRL!”

“Don’t talk to me like that you old bastard”, Violet replies. I look between them.

Red is flushed with veins popping out the side of his neck.

Violet is, likewise, red with fury.

Yellow sobs quietly, tears streaming down her face.

And Indigo… Indigo is the scariest, to me. He wears an expression I have not yet seen from him. An expression of cold terror. His eyes are wide and sweat leaks down from the sides of his hair. His hands shake against the handle on his side of the table.

The timer ticks down.

The table lurches.

Their ball rattles, and is lost.

“What the hell is going on?” I ask them. “Are you guys okay? How many cards have you got?”

My heart pounds as I await their answer.

…Two? …One? …ZERO, perhaps?

“Three”, replies Red, gruffly. “We’re close. If these idiots would just do as they’re told then we’d have it”.

The ball rattles through the maze. It knocks against a wall and drops down into a hole.

The timer ticks down.

02:04

02:03

02:02

Violet takes a step back from the table and screams, running her hands through her hair, tugging at it. “I can’t do it”, she says. “I just can’t do it. Indigo I’m sorry. I really am”.

…And she turns, and she leaves.

She runs right past me through the corridor and towards the door.

“Hey!” shouts Red after her. “Hey, hey come BACK!”

…But she does not.

“Sh*t! Damned b*tch!”

“Red, hurry. Tilt, please. Let’s get this going”, says Indigo, waving his hand.

“He’s the only one left”, says Red. “Grey, take over from Violet, quick!”

Yellow too takes a step back. “I can’t get trapped here”, she whimpers. “I really am sorry. Please forgive me. Please”. And away she goes, running after Violet towards the door.

“COWARD! HOW DARE YOU!” shouts Red. “COME BACK!”

…But she isn’t coming back either.

The timer ticks down.

“GREY!” Red barks, as I consider my options.

I really, really don’t want to leave this man behind. And I admit it, for selfish reasons as well as altruistic ones. Won’t we need his indigo key for the final door to escape?

“GREY STAY HERE, WE CAN DO THIS! WE DON’T NEED THEM! WE GOT THIS!” Red’s eyes bulge from his head. I shake my own head with a grimace, cursing under my breath… but I take my place at the table, Goddammit. I do my duty.

“OKAY!” Red shouts, “I think we have one last shot at this! Obey without question and we might just make it. GREY. You’ve done this before, you know the routine. Tilt to YOU. Indigo, go easy. UP”.

The ball taps and knocks and rolls its steady, trembling way through the wooden maze.

…Past the rectangular hole.

…Through the tunnel.

There is a sharp, collective intake of breath as it wobbles around the edge of a hole at the rotating panel, but we keep it steady.

01:05

01:04

01:03

Indigo is muttering to himself, over and over and over, but I am unable to make out the words. I cannot afford to focus even a slither of my attention on them. My will is bent with incomparable and uncompromised force upon this accursed maze that lies before me. Tilting, ever slightly in my hands at my command.

00:56

00:55

00:54

The ball rolls past the final hole, wavering on the edge… Then makes it way beneath the scales and drops down into the end-zone.

The table whirrs.

And the final card is dispensed.

“GRAB IT! F*CKING QUICK!” Red shouts into Indigo’s face. The man slips and stumbles, his hands shaking violently as he fumbles the card and drops it to the ground.

He crouches to grab it back up and he tries to slot it into his collar.

The first attempt misses.

The second, also.

…And the third. It knocks uselessly against the metal of his collar.

I grab it from him and hold him steady, slotting the card into its place.

The collar beeps, and chimes.

“HUSTLE!” Red screams as he barrels into us, and as a trio we race through the corridor towards the door.

00:10

00:09

00:08

And there it is.

I can see Blue and Orange waiting for us, paled and eyes wide. The others must have gone on ahead.

“GO!” Red roars. “GO!”

And go we do. Leaping through the air through the doorway, over the threshold and into the relative safety of the shadows beyond, Blue and Orange hastily retreating to make space for us as we thud and clatter and bash our ways down to the floor amongst them.

Exhausted, panicked but safe.

…For now, at least.

The timer hits zero, and the door seals tight shut behind us with a grind, and a clank.

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