Young Writers Society

Tempest Briar

Tempest Briar flung the door open. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Pel gulped and stepped into the building.

Inside was a small waiting room, decorated with all-black wallpaper and fake black plants. Other denizens were slumped in cheap chairs around the room, most of them malnourished and dressed in ragged clothing. One was rocking themself back and forth, muttering hollowly.

Tempest Briar hissed. “Ouch. This person definitely has an aesthetic.” He stepped further into the building. “Well, where do you think we should go?”

Pel was about to say he wasn’t sure, when suddenly, a robot materialized in front of them. He jumped backwards, remembering the guards from the elevator.

“Name, please,” it asked in a bored voice. It held up a clipboard with a list of names on it, with some of them crossed off. Pel hoped it meant they’d had their turns being experimented on, not that they’d been terminated or anything…

Tempest Briar frowned. “We didn’t give our names to the guards. How would you have ours?”

The robot sighed. “Name.”

Tempest Briar rolled his eyes. “Fine. Tempest Briar.”

“Aapeli Morgan.”

The robot took out a pen and scribbled on the page. “You’ll be up shortly,” it muttered.

Tempest Briar hummed. “Up for what, exactly?”

The robot didn’t respond, it just moved on to a group of people that had just entered.

Tempest Briar huffed. “What an enlightening answer. Thank you so much!”

The robot ignored Tempest Briar.

Pel shifted from foot to foot, trying to size up the room. “Well. Um. This place looks very depressing.”

Suddenly, there was a buzzing sound, and the robot called, “Lafi Mir, it’s your turn.”

An old man slowly lurched over to a doorway in the back of the room.

Tempest Briar sighed. “Hey, Pel. Did you manage to sneak a look of the roster? To see who we’re after?”

Pel squinted, trying to remember. “Uh, Anabel Ping, I think?”

The newest group of experimentees settled into some frayed chairs.

Tempest Briar sighed. “So I guess we just… wait.” She sighed. “Because even laying in wait to be poked and prodded by some scientist man has to be boring.”

Pel huffed a laugh. “Right.” He wanted to make some joke, too, but words failed him (as they so often did). So instead, he just gestured awkwardly around the room. “Feel like taking a seat, or no?”

Tempest Briar shrugged. “Do you think the chairs will somehow eat us?”

Pel glanced askance at the furniture. “I should hope not, but now that you just said that, I can’t help but worry… I think I’ll stand.”

Another group was called up.

Tempest Briar hummed. “What do you think they’re doing in there?”