CHOOSE YOUR OWN MINDFUCK: A Night in Eighth Block Tower (A65)

Bedlam Bible fans! Explore the Eighth Block Tower! Choose your fate! New posts every Tuesday and Friday. September '23 through December '23. Don't succumb to the huummmmmmmmm...

You’ve decided to blow him up by the crack near the front entrance…

“It’s a tight squeeze, so you’ll have to be the one to set me off. I won’t be able to do it myself,” the wired man says, then hands you a tiny remote with only a single button and a short, wiry antenna protruding from its top. It’s clunky and awkward. You get the feeling he made it himself.

The two of you are standing outside on the sidewalk, near the front entrance of the tower. It’s surprisingly bright outside, despite it being the dead of night. A full moon blazes overhead, somewhat obscured by the surrounding buildings. 

Several others stand in the spaces around you—some homeless, some tower residents—but no one seems to be doing anything other than just standing. Are they waiting? Maybe, but you’re not sure what they’re waiting for. A couple of them are pacing back and forth. One is mumbling things to himself angrily, but under his breath, so you’re not able to make out exactly what he’s saying.

The man you’re with has these giant, unblinking eyes, thick electrical wires jutting out of his skin that run from the top of his body to the very bottom, and if it weren’t for his dirty tighty-whities, then he’d be completely naked too. For some reason, not a single soul pays him any mind. You get the feeling guys like him are fairly common in these parts.

Geez. If that’s true, then maybe the man’s right, you think. The tower really should be destroyed. It’d be for the greater good of the entire world.

Your thoughts are interrupted by another hot belch of black smoke.

“Destiny awaits,” the wired man croaks, then gets down on his hands and knees and crawls into a small hole burrowed in the foundation of the building. At the top edge of this hole, there are substantial cracks extending upward, nearly penetrating through the entire first floor. You surmise these cracks are significant enough that even the tiniest of explosions could potentially take the entire building down.

This guy’s serious, you think, as if initially you truly thought the man wasn’t crazy enough to follow through. The remote nearly slips from your grip due to your sweaty palms.

“Do it!” the man yells, his voice slightly muffled from being tucked inside the hole. The lower half of his body is lying still on the pavement, in full view. “Now! Damn it! Now!” He kicks his legs in frustration.

Your thumb hovers over the button on the remote, but before you can convince yourself to press it, the glass doors of the Eighth Block Tower’s front entrance swing wide open and out steps three figures: Bee and her two friends, the exterminators. One of the exterminators is carrying Bee’s trash bags. He casually looks over at you and the moment he makes eye contact, the bags fall to the pavement. One bursts open, causing a stream of roach cadavers spill out onto the sidewalk.

“What the hell, Grey? You alright?” Bee asks, but he ignores her question. Instead, he digs into the pockets of his coveralls and removes what looks to be a small photograph. His eyes light up in excitement.

“Divey, it’s him! See for yourself!” he shouts, in an awkward cockney accent. He hands the photograph over to his partner. Immediately the other exterminator is filled with rage.

“The name’s Synthe, you facking baboon,” the other man says, also speaking with a cockney accent. He manages to contain his rage long enough to take a quick glance at the photograph. You’re starting to panic. They all seem to be looking at you now.

“Wait… this whole time you two have been looking for him? Super Shit Face?” Bee asks, once again bursting into a fit of laughter. Her laughter calms your nerves a bit. Perhaps it wasn’t as serious of a situation as you’d built up inside your head.

Then you notice the gun—the pistol handle sticking out of one of the exterminator’s pockets.

“Fucking do it! Now!” the wired man yells. “Nooooowwwwwww!”

Hearing this briefly distracts the three of them, and as their heads are turned, you make a run for it. Once they take notice, they shout at you and the one withdraws his gun.

Without giving it a second thought, you mash the button on the remote and instantly the walls of the Eighth Block Tower crumble before you. It all happens so fast you hardly remember the details of it—the fire, the smoke, the whipping winds caused by the blast wave—it’s gone, a blurred memory. You’re not even sure if the explosion made a sound, all you know is that it happened. The crumbling bricks and minced piles of meat all around you attest to that.

The blast was enough to take down the tower, destroy your enemies, and every last trace of evidence against you. You may not have the cash you set out for in the beginning, but you do have a second chance at life, and you can’t put a price on that.

THE END

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