Though this round of projections had undoubtedly been taking longer than the others, dragging their feet clearly hadn’t accomplished anything. Ei straightened out his uniform cap before coming up to the next cell.
“Prisoner 002. It’s time for your final projection.”
Even though Ei was the warden that Andrew was the closest to feeling comfortable around, he couldn’t feel anything but anxious when he saw him approach the cell. Andrew wasn’t even a little bit of a superstitious person, but he couldn’t shake a deep dread that had been plaguing him all morning.
“…are you sure there isn’t any way to prevent anyone from attending the projections.”
Ei pushed up his glasses. “Short of luck or violence on my part, I sincerely doubt it.”
Andrew sighed begrudgingly while getting up.
“I see. I suppose it can’t be helped. In the event that my projection fails to show it once more, my crime is that I caused a strike and let it get out of hand - wherein a gas explosion brought the building down on everyone in the vicinity; all the picketers, union busters, and uninvolved bystanders. If this is to be the last projection, there should be no room for misinterpretation.”
Well, no need for Ei to ask if anything else needed to be said. That surely covered it. He jotted down notes as he began to lead the prisoner away.
With that, Andrew’s as stoic as ever while making his way to the projection room. Once the wardens started strapping him to the roughed-up chair, however, any of the participants could plainly see the unease showing on his face.
—
Again, Ei shoos you away so the chosen prisoner can be guided down the long hallway alone. By now it’s clear this walk is the only thing the wardens are so particular about keeping the prisoner alone for. Once they reach the courtroom, they don’t bother to keep you away as they set the prisoner up in the burnt chair as properly as they can. Perhaps it’s not worth the effort. Perhaps how you behave in the projections is a test in itself.
Regardless of their motives, a few of you make the trek yourselves today, finding the hallway only marginally less lonely with your company. The walls still seem stifling, the unnatural murmurs pressing in on you tighter. Sometimes you swear you glimpse a face or beckoning arm in the wall. Just tricks of the light.
But the courtroom is wide open, if barren, and there’s not much else to be uncomfortable about until the prisoner of the day is secured in place. A strange…—machine? Somehow enough of it remains in shadow to obscure any useful details—emerges from the wall to hover around the prisoner’s head, then everything but you and the wardens is swallowed by utter darkness. There’s a low murmur somewhere behind you.
It only lasts a moment, though. Once the shadow subsides, you find yourself seemingly somewhere else…
