You come out of the chute in a roll, land in a ready stance, instinctively sweep the room.  The stone floor is slick, and the air feels thick, oily.

“Come out here please,” purrs a voice.

You step out light, on the balls of your feet.  A woman in a business suit with a clipboard nods, checks something off.  “We’re interested in your problem solving skills.”

The lights come up on a long, steely hallway.  Unseen motors spool up, and shiny blades spin along the walls, the floor, the ceiling.  There’s a distant, animal roar.

“Take your time,” she says.


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