WILLIAM AND WHITE

The T.V. screen blips and then cuts to black for a split second. This drastic change causes your body to spam and your mind to draw to immediate attention. Your vision is now consumed with the image of an entire audience of children screaming with excitement. The high-pitch of their fervor is enough to pierce your ears and cause your face to a grimace. Panning into the screen, in an unnaturally close close-up, you see a jubilant face painted like a clown brandishing a large and toothy smile.

“HI KIDDOS!! YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS??”

The children heighten the sharpness of their cheers.

“THAT’S RIGHT … PSYCHO BILLY’S HOUSE OF SLAUGHTER!!!”

As you brace yourself for more audible impact the children’s cheering is nearly unbearable for you.

“OKAY BOYS AND GIRLS; PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR THE WHITE PLAYER!!!”

The cheering continues its jarring drone and the clown waves the tops of his fingers at you in a coochy-coo manner.

“HI WHITE PLAYER!!! SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING ALL CRAMPED UP IN THERE!!!”

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated way.

“BECAUSE YOU ARE MY GUEST ON THE BESTEST GAME-SHOW EVER TO GRACE GOD’S GREEN EARTH. Games games games, everything is a game ... yer gunna do your typical white-thing ‘cause that’s yer game … WELCOME WHITE PLAYER!!! WELCOME TO MY HOUSE OF SSSLAUGHTER!!!”

There is calliope music that begins to play in a wonky way as its exasperated and muted notes compete with the hellish high-pitched voices of the youthful audience. The camera pans back now and you can see that this clown is certainly middle-aged but has a certain limber quality to his movements. Around him lie large objects of primary colors set onto a white background.

He takes a great deep exaggerated breath while he makes time for a dramatic pause. Then rapidly leans back to his uncomfortable close up to mumble:

“When I say everything is a game I mean that EVERYTHING IS A GAME!! Your life is a game, my life is a game, and no matter what, NO MATTER FUCKING WHAT we play the GAME!! So my part of the game is that I got to give you rules and bull shit, blah, blah, BLAH!! All I really care about is that you gather those scavenger items, then I can meet the THORN IN MY SIDE, FOR THAT LAST TWO THOUSAND TIMES, WHITE PLAYER!! So … you gunna do this so we can do that and get yer shit together for our final fucking show down?”

“I SURE FUCKING HOPE SO!!! fer yer sssake. I am the one that not only brought you here but essentially created you, I am you’re alpha and I am gunna be your omega so you see you oughta just stick with me and trust me your gunna have a GRAND! OLD! TIME!!”

His face has busted into an intimidating excitement and he inhales again exageratively.

“So yer gunna be a good contestant and stick to the game and give us a good show right?? Yer gunna play this thing through like a fucking Shakespearean comi-tragedy right to the fucking last scene getting them all in stitches, huh?? Yer gunna sing and scream bloody murder all night long??”

It is during this brief pause that you notice the children have stopped their incessant drone but you are not certain for how long it has been dropped.

“ALRIGHT, WERE BACK!!”

The children’s chorus of pain begins sounding again assaulting your ears from either side.

“OKAY, WELL WE HAVE GONE OVER ALL THE RULES AND THERE IS ONLY ONE THING TO ASK …”

The children and the clown scream in an ear-drum battering unison

“ARE … YOU ... READY???”

The final word is left with a pause lasting longer than the previous pauses in this conversation. You have a sick feeling in the bottom of your stomach as you feel you are being watched.

The television has grown silent and motionless besides the clown’s subtle sway and blinks. The pneumatic tube hisses and continues to slide in its downward motion. Your pulse throbs from the center of your chest and outward pressing at the very things strapping you in.

What do you do?

RED PLAYER: CAUGHT RED HANDED

Suddenly, while thinking of what you should do, a voice speaks from around the corner towards where you saw the man in yellow.

"Hey mouth-breather, we can fucking hear you. Slowly step out where we can see you."

Wait?!? Did he just say we? Immediately, you hold your breath but realize quickly that it is too late. Your mind sighs for an answer of what to do.

YELLOW PLAYER: Who the fuck is that

Prey hides, lets fucking kill 'em!

Our heart is beating so we can feel it in our toes and our nature calls us to spill blood, but we must remain calm, striking when the moment is right.


We STAND, TURN TOWARD the CORNER, and PREPARE to COUNTER a possible attack. "Hey mouth-breather, we can fucking hear you. Slowly step out where we can see you."


If this shit comes at us, we'll fucking break its leg.

We should refrain from killing it for now, it might know something of use.

BLUE PLAYER: Blur The Technicolor

I take a steadying breath, willing my body to calm.

(OK, take stock, quickly)

I QUIETLY CHECK the PAINTING, including the frame and back, looking for any series of numbers or hidden objects. Satisfied, I SNEAK down the hallway, trying to minimize my own shadow as I head to the far door. I take the left branch of the hallway,then turn right pressing my back against the wall, LOOKING back at the place I was, waiting for the shadowed shape, tensed for any action, making NO SOUND.

(Maybe they could help?)
(They also might be a complete psychopath)

I let my eyes adjust to the darkness

(I've got a screw.. I could cut, with it?)
(Now who's the psychopath?)

My fists clench spasmodically.
(NOT me)

I close my eyes for a moment, images flashing in my mind's eye.

(Crying)
(Held down)
(A knife)
(Over and Over)
(Blood Blood BLOOD!!!)

(...Not me..)
...
(Are you sure about that?)

I clench my jaw, hands at the ready.
(I'll defend myself, but I won't attack)

I meld with the darkness, allowing my breathing to move in time with the hisses of the RASA TUBE.

(If it's a god damned cat, I'm going to laugh 'til I puke)
I bite my lip to keep from smiling.

WHITE PLAYER: Carte Blanche

At first I stare blankly ahead of me. The feeling that I know something, but it won't surface in my mind fades as I try to solidify it. The more I grasp, the more it eludes me. Eventually, I loosen my mind and try to allow the images to come to me. Nothing does.

I stare at the words "Please Stand By" and I wonder what am I waiting for?

"HELLO!!! WHITE PLAYER!!! ARE YOU THERE!?!"

BLUE ON THE MOVE

As you look down the hallway toward the darkness your eyes cannot help but feel disgust at the crooked and tacky wallpaper. Walls sweating with condensation from the hot moisture spitting from the tubes behind you seem to clam, swell and box you in despite being ten feet apart. The wall to your left adorns a painting that contains odd and alarming subject matter. You are not sure you recognize it, but it seems like something from a medieval period work but this would have to be a well framed reprint, right?



The hall continues twenty or so feet before opening up into perhaps a perpendicular hallway. It is with the same gaudy wallpaper but there is a door that breaks its pattern. The door is metal and appears like one that would be found in an airlock. The stale air you breathe takes on more significance. The door would be opened by turning a wheel that is placed nearly dead center of it or at least you hope it is that easy.



Your attention now turns back toward the rasa tube. It is embedded in the wall and only the outer-end of its rounded corners is bulging out from the wall. Looking and admiring the crafty work of welding, riveting, and mechanics you cannot help but wonder if the entire mechanics cannot be jury-rigged in some way. Perhaps the elevation control could be re-routed manually to move back upward.

Upon closer searching of the inside of the tube you can see that there are a few screws that could be unscrewed. These could come in handy, and perhaps could be a good spot for any modifications you make for the tube. You obtain a handful of nuts and bolts.



Satisfied with your search you begin to sneak down the hall. As you reach its end along the hall to your right you can see that there is another source of light peaking around the corner of the end of the perpendicular hall on your right. You can see that the hall breaks into another direction and it is from here that you guess the source of this other light is coming from. Around the corner and just to your right, where the hall opens to its most extreme, you can see another door. Closer still you make out that the door has some sort of locking mechanism. Like the latch on a suitcase the lock culminates on the door with three dials. Each dial contains the number zero and an indicator above establishes that it is locked.

With sharp ears you establish that there are sounds of hissing from that hall too. Could it be another rasa tube? And wouldn’t that mean another player? It is then that you notice another sign. There is movement of some sort within the light causing shadows to kaleidoscope by in odd and abstract forms.

The very thought that you could be this close to another causes your heart to pound in an animalistic fashion. With a slow and pensive movement you realize that you still have the screws in your hand and carefully, without even the slightest sound, manage to place them in a side pocket. The palms of your hands feel cool and sweaty and your mind begins to race with options.