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How will I pass?
The morning was typical. On the outside, at least. But there was less conversation. Everything we talked about was trivial. I don't even know how there could be anything trivial to talk about. The test was all there was. It was all we ever talked about. But this morning, we worked so hard to ignore it. It didn't matter, though. No matter how much we talked about food, I couldn't think of anything but the test.
How will I pass?
It was my only thought. I imagined the referee had woken up, which wasnot good. But I had hopes that a five-ton beast would take longer naps than a human would.
I sensed that my father would walk out of the room soon. We'd been sitting there for about forty-five minutes.
My father stood up. Went for the door.
"Brian, when did you die?"
He stopped.
I slid my chair back.
He opened the door. "Before you."
I flinched to the sound of the door closing.
The room gave me a weird feeling. It wasn't cold in the room, but I had goosebumps. The referee wasn't in the room. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular. There was just a feeling. I couldn't put a word on it. I still can't exactly describe it now, but I didn't like it. There's only word I think of now that can describe it. Imminence. Something was going to happen. Not just something bad. Not just something good. It felt as though something good and bad were going to happen. I rubbed my arms. It was an odd feeling. But I figured that was all it was.
I returned to the room where I'd beaten the referee. Taking careful steps, I tried to feel around to see if the monster was in there.
My foot hit something.
I looked down. Nudged my foot forward. And I felt it again.
The referee was still asleep.
I walked to the side of the room. Took my marker out and drew a star on the wall.If I come back and he's not here, then he's awake.Simple enough.
And the only thing left to do was look for my father. I knew how to navigate the rooms. This second day of doing it made me even more comfortable. It didn't help me find him, but it gave me a better awareness of what was happening when I travelled in specific directions. For half of the day I had my compass out. Eventually, though, I was able to just know which direction I was going. It was starting to become second-nature. In the back of my mind I kept a grid of where I was in relation to my room. Different directions had doors with different functions. Now that I understood this, and was practicing it, getting lost was becoming a thing of the past.
I had been out a while. Thinking it was best to turn back, I began to make a journey back to my room. After a few rooms, I was struck with an odd feeling. It was almost nostalgic. A weird thing, since this was the very place I'd been working to get out of all along. I came across one of the papers I'd put down in a room all that time ago. Crouched down and picked it up.I've come a long way.But I didn't feel as though it were just me. There were several times that it felt as if something were directing me. When I went far in the wrong direction, it steered me in the right one. And I'm not talking about the direction I walked in the rooms. I'm talking about when I was about to kill myself. I'm talking about when all I could do was lash out at my father. When I considered murder. Something steered me right. I let the paper fall from my hand,But what was that something?
A comforting thought entered my head. That there was someone looking after me. At first I wanted to dismiss it as wishful thinking, but there was nothing I could argue against it. I would have said that I never saw this person, but I never saw the referee, and it was real. Sight wasn't a determining factor for me anymore.I don't know,I thought.Maybe when I get out of here, I'll find out someone was looking out for me.
I stood back up and went in the direction of my room again. There was only one thing missing for me to escape. A plan of action. I had to subdue my father. But I needed a plan. A plan for the when. The where. And most importantly, the how.
More walking through the rooms. It didn't seem like I had gone as far as I did until I had to make the turn back. As I travelled, I passed a few more of those papers I had put on the floor. After a few minutes, I went into a steady rhythm. About seven steps for each room. Seven steps. Open door. One step. Close door. Seven more steps. And so on. I was a few rooms away.
I passed something in one of the rooms. It wasn't another paper, though. I didn't disregard it. I'd learned that anything I found in this test was useful. So I examined it. It sat in the middle of the room. A key. A metal, lock-opening key. I looked around. I hadn't completely backtracked from the direction I came, I had just gone a way that I knew would get me to my room. That's why I hadn't seen this. Had this key always been here? Had I always gone around this room and never seen it?
I bent over and picked the object up. It hung on a key chain. A thought immediately came to mind.Try a door. I ran over to the north door. Examined the lock. I lifted the key in front of my eyes.If this does something, I hope it's good.I lowered the key. Tried to push it into the keyhole. It didn't work. I frowned. Turned the key upside-down. Tried again. It wouldn't fit. The key hadn't been made to fit that lock. I lifted it back to my eyes.Why put a key in the test that doesn't work?
Something else hung on the keychain. A small label. I held it up with my fingers. Written in black ink,Desk B100.
"Desk. . ." I said aloud. My eyes popped open.My father's desk!
I jumped into the next room. Looked around frantically. I knew where my room was, but finding my father's would be impossible. I'd only been there once. There was no way.Except he led you to your room straight from his.
I squeezed the sides of my forehead. Pictured the day.Okay, Jack, let's see how far your visual memory can go back.I returned to my room.I'll have to take the directions he turned and reverse them. But I have to know which direction we came from.I tried to remember where the bed was when we entered. Then, I shifted around in the room. Made what I saw match the memory.So, we came from this way. I pointed in the direction I remembered. It was North. We had come from the north door.
And so I went North.
By reversing the memory of that day, I was actually able to travel in the right direction. I followed the memory as it played back in my head.
If I was doing this right, I was a few doors away from my father's room. The thought of what the desk contained began to excite me. Would it have objects, or information? Maybe it would give me something so I could gain a way out. Or maybe it'd have more answers. Answers to who was holding us here.
I walked through the next door. One room away.
And the door to my right opened.
I took a step back. "You're awake."
The referee shut the door. "Yeah."
I slowly reached for my gun. Ready to make another light go out.
"I'm not going to try to stop you."
I held the gun behind my back. "Good."
The monster shifted on its feet.
"Why?" I said.
It exhaled.
I raised my eyebrow.
It didn't answer me.
I took a step forward. To my surprise, I heard it cower back.
It breathed softly.
I crossed my arms.It's not going to stop me. . . The referee's afraid of me, now?
The referee cleared its throat.
I lifted my gun towards the light.
It panicked. "Jack!" it growled. "Don't. Don't do it."
I lowered the gun.It's actually scared. . .
After a few seconds of odd silence, I put the gun away and walked toward my father's room. "Looks like someone's more afraid of dreams than I am."
It grumbled.
I opened the door. No one was inside. My father was somewhere else. Good. I entered the room, and approached his desk. Underneath was the one drawer. Just as before, it was locked. I took out the key.Please, please work.I inserted the key into the lock. Closed my eyes.
The key turned.
The lo
ck clicked.
I opened my eyes.
The drawer began to slide forward.
"Yes," I pulled it open. Looked down into it.
Only one thing lay inside. A large black object.
I pulled it out. It was a binder. A label was stuck to the front.Box 100 Tester's Manual.Underneath that,Assigned to J-98: Box History and Navigation.
I took a deep breath. Went over to the circular table in the middle of the room. A tester's manual. And something about a box. Project B. Project Box. I remembered. That's what I had called the test.
This situation was odd to me. A key in the middle of a room that gave me access to secret information. Why would it be that easy? It had been there for me to find it. But if it were in the open, for me to find something hidden, was I really finding any secret at all? This must have been another part of the test, I thought. It was something else planted in order for me to act on, or react to. It made my thoughts return to the person in charge of my hell, of the test. Could I trust this information?
When I had first entered this room, my father had the drawer locked and a key in his own possession. They didn't mean for me to find this. Unless that was just to bait my interest. So I'd go after it.
I ran my hand across the face of the binder.Well, are you going to read it, or not?I couldn't know what it contained unless I read it. I tapped the front.Okay. Here we go.
I cracked it open.
My father entered.
I gripped the binder.
He was startled.
I started to stand.
The binder caught his eyes. They popped open wide.
I froze.
We made eye contact.
It was one of those moments again. Not knowing what my father would say. Not knowing what he would do. There was only thought that ran though my head:What's going to happen?Over and over. My brain didn't give me an answer, though.
I stood all the way up. Slowly began to walk backwards.
Immediately my father ran at me.
I ran for the door. Clutched the binder close to my chest.
He seized my shoulders just as I was grabbing the door handle.
I kept my grip on the handle.
He squeezed tight and yanked me free from the knob. Tossed me to the side and shut the door with his foot.
I stumbled and held my hand out. My hand hit the floor before me but didn't keep me up. My elbow bent and I fell onto the concrete. I looked down. The binder was still held firm, secured by my left arm.
My father bent over. Grasped the top and bottom of the binder.
We struggled, both trying to break the book free from the other person.
My father won. He yanked it upward. But as it was released from my grasp, its momentum sent it right into my dad's face.
I curled my legs inward and kicked the side of the binder facing my father, sending it through the air.
It opened up and landed behind me.
I turned over. It was a few feet away from my face.
My dad tried to crawl over me.
I rose up, causing him to fall to the side. Quickly I slid myself forward.
My father grabbed my leg.
I looked at the page.Guiding Principle 10: Allow the test subject's-
He dragged me away from the book.
No!I grabbed the page. It tore out of the binder.
My father grabbed my shirt and used me as leverage to bring himself forward.
I struggled to get closer to the notebook.
My dad pushed me away with the back of his foot. Grabbed the notebook and closed it.
I shoved the paper into my pocket.
We simultaneously scrambled to our feet.
I breathed heavily. Watched the binder.
My father narrowed his eyes. "You should mind your business."
I raised my eyebrows. "Why cant I see it? Is this about the man in charge?" I pointed at the binder. "Who's making you do what that book says?"
"What'd I just say? It's not your-"
"Itismy business. Why can't we break his rules? Why can't we just get out of hell together and stop him?"
"You don't know what you're talking about, Jack."
"I invented this!" I yelled. "Who's in control of my hell? You don't have to follow him. You have the knowledge to get us out of here. Why can't we-"
"-Jack!" he tossed the book down.
My eyes stayed fixed on his.
"You have no idea what is happening." My father squeezed the sides of his forehead.
I exhaled deeply.
He pointed his finger at me. "You want to know what happened? Before you woke up?"
I opened my mouth. Hesitated.
We stood silently. Our deep breaths filled the room.
He kept his finger held at me.
I kept a stern look on my face. Nodded. Still breathing heavily.
He put is hand down. "Okay, I'll tell you," he slouched his shoulders a bit. Closed his eyes, picturing it. "I sat there, watching you sleep," he looked down to his side as if to see me there, in my bed. "Behind me was this. . . man. He had given me the book. Made me read it. All of it. And then. . . he only had one thing to say." My father looked at me. "Do you want me to tell you what he said?"
I didn't move.
He squinted. "I know I have the ability to let you pass. And. . . heis just a man. But when he said it, I. . . I could feel the blood on his hands. Blood from people he'd dealt with in the past. I could hear the heartlessness. He leaned forward and whispered in my ear." My father's eyes shone. And he said slowly, articulating every syllable, "So I'll ask you again. Do you want me to tell you what he said?"
I took a deep breath. Nodded. "Yes," I whispered.
"He said, 'If you help him pass, then I'll take this gun. And I'll sit him down. . . right in front of you.'" he shook his head. "'And I'll send the bullet right through his skull, making you watch the entire time. But you know what? Maybe I'll tell him first. I'll tell him why this was happening to him. And to whom will my finger point? You. Because you didn't do as you were told. And then. . . as he realizes thatyou're the reason he will rot for eternity, I will kill him in front of your eyes.'"
I pictured the man. The only person I could imagine, though, was myself. I shook my head. As much as I hated this person for what he was doing to us, for what he was doing to my father, I was just as guilty for the same type of evil in my own life. That's why I came to mind. Because I was the worst person I knew. But now, I may have found someone worse. My hands quivered. I shook my head.
My father covered his eyes.
I looked down. "You said he was a man. . ."
He wiped his face. Nodded slowly.
I laughed uncomfortably. "Who puts a man in charge of hell?"
He shook his head. Silently he crouched down and picked up the notebook. "There are things that you just don't know, Jack."
And the ticking of the watch came back into my head. The hair on my arms stood up. Lunch soon.
He held his hand out. "Now, give it over."
I curled in my lips. Had he seen me take the page?
"Jack," he exhaled. "The key."
". . . Oh." I shook my head. "Oh, right." I tossed him the silver key.
He lifted his hand and caught it. "Thank you."
We stared at each other.
I swayed, shifting my weight back and forth between my feet.
We stared some more.
I looked back at the door. At my father.
He looked down.
I ran out.
fifteen
He was surprised. Why would my father have been surprised? The key was left in the center of the room. He acted as though I'd broken in by force. No. It was on the floor. The thing was in the open. I know, it was his locked desk drawer. But he new my dreams, and he always knew what I was going to ask for when I needed something. He couldn't have been oblivious to the fact that the key was on the floor.
I ran to my room. It took a few minutes,
so lunch was already there when I arrived.
I took out the paper as soon as I entered the room. I unfolded it and flattened out the crumples as I ran to my seat. What was on this page had to be important. My father made sure not to let me have the notebook. Even after all I'd found out, there were still things he was hiding. I pushed my plate to the side and put the paper on the table.
This was it. I took a deep breath. Either this would tell me something I already knew, or it would change everything. I looked at the first words again.Guiding Principle 10.Just like my father had said, they had rules. I wondered how many there were. Would they be able to help me pass, or would it just be a bunch of random guidelines? I scratched my head. Looked down at the page.Only one way to find out.I read the words from the beginning.
Guiding Principle 10: Allow the test subject's own inner thoughts to become his reality. He can defeat himself without your involvement.
My eyes widened. I flattened the page with my palm. Kept reading.
Do not bring the subject to the realization that these ideas were his own. Serve as an aid; let him come to a conclusion that these thoughts were perceptions of an external source, rather than his own subjective thoughts of a concept which he has little-to-no knowledge of. It is amazing how easily a test subject can fail when left to his own thoughts. Do not hinder these. Only guide them.
I looked up.Wait a second. Looked back down. There was one sentence left to read.
Furthermore, the test subject is very likely to believe that you are-
And the page ended.
I put my hands on top of the paper. And everything I'd read started sinking in. My mouth simply hung open. Atest subject can fail when left to his own thoughts?I scanned through the page again. Those last complete sentences.Do not hinder these. Only guide them.My father was leading me on? I didn't know how far I was supposed to take what this paper said. Was it saying my thoughts were completely false? Or only partially? And what were my thoughts wrong about? My thoughts about how to pass? My thoughts about the test? About my father? About myself?
Jack in the Box Page 14
