24
The Monorail speeds into the tunnel. My heart is plastered to the back of my seat. My spine hurts. The flesh in the back of my neck is burning. If I ever wanted to say stop, the muscles in my jaw wouldn’t allow me to open my mouth. My face is crumbling, like a paper bag in front of a vacuum cleaner. I hold on tight.
First, the journey into the dark tunnel goes up, and then the monorail leans to the left, then down, gaining speed.
Down. Down. Down.
Finally, it slows down in the dark and maintains a slower speed for a while, like a train drawing into the station. I see tiny dots of light at the end of the tunnel, like small light bulbs, shimmering in the distance. They get bigger as we come closer. The sun starts shining through. We emerge from the tunnel, and the Monorail stops under the sunny spot.
It feels like we have entered an alternate reality. One door opens to the left. We hurry to it, as if this crazy Monorail is about to explode. Above us, the sunny sky is a little different, as if missing its heart and soul. It looks as if it’s not real.
“I present to you, Artificial Sky,” says Timmy. “The latest invention, exclusively designed for Faya, on the other side of the Rabbit Hole.”
Beyond the door, there is a metal ledge in front of us, with star-shaped holes drilled in it. I can see the endless air underneath us, leading to oblivion. It’s hard to tell how high we are. I am afraid we are so high, we can’t see the ground through the holes.
“Please walk forward,” a female voice says from the microphones.
Leo starts walking in front of us. I cut in, wanting to be the first.
“Not this time, sweetie,” Timmy interrupts. “In fact, you will be the last in line.”
“No. She walks next to me,” says Leo, holding my hand.
“Oh. So the cat didn’t eat your tongue like I was told,” says Timmy. The crowd laughs and starts hissing. The crowd favors Leo. Is it because he is a Nine? Or because he is just tediously hot – and dumb sometimes?
“Not this time, Leo,” says Timmy. “I promise you, in the presence of over two million viewers, nothing is going to happen to her walking last in line.”
Reluctantly, Leo lets go of my hand and keeps walking.
“Stop,” says Timmy.
Leo stops in front of a huge vertical circle made of iron. I can’t see what it is exactly, but it looks like a ring-shaped hole, surrounded by an iron structure.
Farther beyond the circle, there is another metal ledge leading to a huge round clock made of wood. It looks rusty and old, with all kinds of swampy plants covering it. The clock is numbered from one to ten.
An old woman in a red cloak stands before the huge clock. Her long silver hair shows from under the veil, fluttering in the light wind passing through. She is using a wooden cane to help her walk, as she hunches her back forward. Her eyes have a silver shade to them. When I look closer, I discover that she is blind.
“Please say hi to Dame Fortuna,” says Timmy. No one says anything. “It’s true that Dame Fortuna is blind, but she is the Goddess of Fate,” Timmy laughs happily. “And Fate needs to be on the Monsters’ side today.”
“That’s the gypsy woman who foresaw the Year of the Ten,” Pepper says.
“So?” I ask.
“So, she is a liar,” Pepper says. “Can’t you see? We’ve all been already ranked, and there is no Ten this year. All this Year of the Ten thing was a lie. God knows what this creepy woman has in store for us now.”
“Please step carefully into the circle, and take your seats,” Timmy says to us. “What you see there, and what looks like a clock, is a Wheel of Fortune, although it rarely makes one fortunate.” Timmy smirks at the camera. “The horizontal metal ring in front of you has seats attached to its edges, circling around the huge void in the middle. Take your seats in the ring. You’ll find a blue box in front of you. Lay your palm flat on it, and Dame Fortuna will rotate the wheel. When the wheel finally stops, it will show your number.”
“Why are they giving us numbers?” I ask.
“It’s better we give you numbers, than you give them to yourselves,” Timmy responds bluntly.
Leo takes a step down into the ring, and we follow.
The ring itself has a metal floor, wide enough to walk upon without panicking about falling into the hole in the middle. I can’t see the bottom of the hole. It is infinitely deep. When I squint, trying to look harder, I see only fog and smoke. What is this place?
I see the metallic seats attached to the ring. Haphazardly, we pick seats.
Every seat is the shape of a vertical cylinder. It’s like a barrel. I stand in it, waist deep. It barely fits one person, and it’s like my own private balcony, allowing me to look over at the others, sitting in similar balconies attached to a ring.
Everyone takes a place. We are all standing in a circle, so we can see each other. Tight metallic belts buckle around our waists and shoulders. None of us can leave the balconies now.
On the right, I see the box Timmy told us about. It has a blue substance inside that looks like jelly. This is where we are going to place our palms so the Wheel of Fortune can spin and give us a number.
“What are the numbers for?” asks Pepper again, as if I haven’t already asked.
“I will explain later,” says Timmy. “After each one of you places their palms on the blue jelly.”
“So cool,” says Vern. I am glad that’s all he says. He can be distracting at times.
I am dying to know what happened between Timmy and the audience when we were offline. It’s starting to bother me.
“The only problem is that there are eleven of you, and only ten numbers on the wheel,” says Timmy. “The audience has the right to spare one of you from this part of today’s game.”
This hasn’t happened before. The audience’s vote has never been taken into consideration.
The screen shows the votes. With the iAm, you can get results within seconds. The screen shows that the crowd has favored Leo.
“Leo, the crowd’s favorite, will be spared,” says Timmy. “So let’s play. Let’s start with Pepper.”
I have a bad feeling about this numbering thing. Leo looks puzzled. We all do. What kind of crazy game is this? How much does this setting cost?
Pepper places her palm on the blue jelly. She doesn’t hesitate a bit. Sometimes I forget that she has a death wish. Dame Fortuna gives the wheel a slight push.
I could have imagined anything happening at the point when Dame Fortuna pushes the wheel, like the blonde host you see in lottery shows.
Anything.
All, but what I am actually seeing.
How do they do something like that?
I can’t believe my eyes.