A Modern Day Journey To The Center Of The Earth

Chapter 1:

Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick…

            The clock on the blank wall was the only noise that penetrated our sound proof walls. Five sleek black desks aliened in a row broke up the unblemished white walls where the remainder of my partners sat. Audrey sat to my left, fidgeting with a strand of her dirty blonde hair, her wide blue eyes flitting around the room in a panic. Raysha and Celia were sitting stiffly to my right. Raysha could barely see over the smooth desks, while Celia’s knees banged against the underside of them.

            Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick…

            We waited in our isolated journey room, blinded, deafened, and deprived of any information from outside. Despite the deceivingly empty room, we were fairly certain it was rigged with cameras and mics everywhere. The silence we were scared into was only broken by the clock, steadily telling us we were waiting, something was coming, soon.

Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick…

            Soon.

Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick…

            Very soon.

Tick, Tick, Tick- Whoosh!

A door appeared out of the wall we were facing. Nazzari stepped into the room with her head bowed low and shuffled into the empty desk. A man followed her in, the door vanishing behind him.

Audrey gagged on her hair she had been chewing, a nervous habit of hers, when the man turned to face us. Celia stiffened even more next to me. His eyes bore through us. One was a milky grayish-white, obviously due to injury from the white raised scar running down his forehead, through his eye, and ending at his jaw line. But his other eye was even more terrifying. A tinted red lens incased in a rusted metal eyepiece rapped around his ear and down his neck, disappearing under his flesh into his spine. The red screen flickered with holographic readings of us, analyzing our breathing, movement, posture, and heartbeats. A projection appeared in the air space between him and our barrier of desks we had shrunk behind. He whisked a platinum armored finger through it, dissipating the pixels. His hands were incased in layered metal, his fingerprints only showing through, giving his hand an armadillo look. He turned a knob on his rusty head gear, flicked the lens away, reveling a piercing blue eye, and grinned at us.

“Ladies, you’re in.”

That was it. No balloons, no party, no cake. No “Congratulations!” No paparazzi showdown, video snob pop ups, nothing. Just a rusty cyborg telling us what was already perfectly clear. Then said cyborg wheeled around on his heels and put an armadillo hand harshly on my desk. I jumped at the loud clang it made.

“Not impressed, eh? Well just as quickly, you can be out.”

Crap. I totally blanked on the mind readings, searching for mood spikes and harsh thoughts. Great way to make a good impression.

His serious face turned into a half smile.

“You’re lucky you’re the favorite.”

And he vanished out the hidden door.

What.