Several eons later, your isolation is broken by the sound of a pressure lock disengaging. All around you, the four accursed walls slide ever so slightly off their hinges, permitting a shearing knife of glorious sunlight to penetrate your little iron box. All at once, the walls fall aside, revealing four much thinner (and more importantly, much more transparent) glass panels in their place, leaving you stood in a box not unlike one you might find a mime pretending to be in, encompassed by a gigantic iron cross where the hated walls had fallen.In fact, you were in much the same position as the other 23 young men and women all around you, a quivering sea of faces, arms and bodies pressed up against their glass containers, all wild eyes and twitchy movements as they registered their surroundings in tandem.“None of you know why you have been gathered here this day.” A deep, baritone boom echoes through a concealed speaker, seemingly from every direction at once. “Your memories have. .” Jeff’s mom spoke up. “Don’t you want more than that?”“No, thanks,” she replied. “I don’t have much of an appetite.”“It’s how she stays so slim,” Jeff’s dad interjected.“You’re sure?”“I’m sure. I’m kinda ... turkeyed-out.” She propped her elbow on the table, held her forehead and muttered under her breath.“What does that mean?” His mother looked toward Jeff. “Jeff?”He sighed. “We had a big turkey dinner at her folks’ place, yesterday.”“Oh ... I’m sorry. If I had known...”“It’s okay, Mom. We had no way of knowing. Besides -- turkey is our traditional Christmas dinner.”“Awk ... ward...” Beth chimed in.“Keep your comments to yourself, young lady,” Mrs Brooker said sternly.Chelsea’s gaze darted around the table from Jeff’s mom to his dad to his sister and back again. “If you’ll excuse me...” She stood and headed up the stairs.Jeff’s parents’ gaze focused on him. “Jeff -- what’s wrong?” his mother asked.“I’ll go talk to her.” He headed up the stairs and found Chelsea sitting on the.
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