Peeking around the corner, I waved Emily forward with an impatient hand. She scurried forward, red hair blatantly obvious against the dark corridors of the Containment Center. She had the sense, at least, to wear a black bandana. In fact, her entire outfit was black. Black boots which made a ridiculously loud clacking noise on the polished ground, a thick black sweater that at least kept the autumn chill out, and black jeans. My own gray outfit seemed bright in comparison.
Blowing some wisps of hair out of her face, Emily pulled her pocket knife out of her jeans. I watched in frustration as she fumbled with her knife to unlock a certain door. Impatient, I grabbed the knife from her and with a deft twist, unlocked the door. "We're in a prison for troubled adolescents! How can you not pick a lock?!" I whisper-shouted. She whispered back angrily, "I'm in here for hacking! I'm not the person who broke into a government building!" I sighed in exasperation, turning back to the now accessable room behind the door. Waving Emily forward, I scurried in myself.
The door shut noiselessly behind us as Emily gently nudged it into a closed position. The room was a plain gray concrete, decorated only by a concrete pedastal in the center of the room. I walked with careful feet up to it, motioning Emily to do the same. The pedastal had one of those buttons that either moo like a cow, or say something stupid like "That was easy!". You know, the kind teachers get. I walked up to it, studying it.
Turning to Emily, I asked the question she was waiting for. "So, you're sure? You hacked all the info you could get?" She nodded silently. "So, what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty."
YOU ARE READING
Buttons
Short StoryA story that explains that one awkward character, called the Book Traveller, who is forced to hop betwixt short stories and fanfics.
