Deadly Decisions
You open your eyes to a dingy room lit by a flickering bulb. Two doors stand ahead, each marked with a note, but from where you’re lying, the words blur into unreadable shapes. Between them, sprawled across the wall in neon green paint, is a message so loud you’d have to be blind not to see it:
MAKE YOUR CHOICE, CHOOSE THEIR CONSEQUENCE. YOU HAVE THE POWER, THEY HAVE THE JUDGEMENT.
What the hell is going on? I swear I’ve seen this movie before. My body feels heavy, but I push myself up and walk to the door on the right. The note reads, “If they like it, why take it away?” That makes no sense. I cross to the left door. “Sacrificing the few, can save the many.” That’s just eerie. I hesitate, then return to the right door and open it.
The room ahead is pitch black. You step inside, and the door slams shut behind you. You spin around, startled, and squeak when you realize the door is gone — just a solid wall now. You pound on it, fists aching, but nothing happens.
I turn back around, heart racing, and a projection flickers to life on the wall. A bus full of people. They’re all eating something, slowly, methodically. The image zooms in: a popsicle. It’s strange. Every time someone bites into it, it regenerates instantly, returning to its original shape. The video speeds up. Daylight shifts across the bus in fast-forward. The passengers never move. They just keep eating and eating.
They’re getting fatter. Slower. I watch in horror as one slumps over. Dead. Then another. Oh god. They’re eating themselves to death. Why don’t they stop? Why won’t anyone stop them?
If you can hear me, whoever you are, do something! Why are you showing me this? Is this some twisted prank? This can’t be real. It can’t be…
I throw up. The image fades. In its place, a new message appears:
“47 million dead after consuming the new ‘Miracle Pop’, sources say corners were cut to get the product to market.”
A minute passes. The message fades again.
YOUR CHOICES MATTER.
You’re back in the room. Again, two doors. You walk hesitantly to the one on the right. “If he did it, he deserves it.” You cross to the left. “If he is innocent, why would she lie.”
Okay. So now I’m supposed to decide someone’s innocence? But they haven’t told me anything. Either way, it sounds like the guy gets punished. I mean, I have to support my fellow women on this. The statistics don’t lie.
You step through the door on the right.
A video begins. A boy, no older than ten, sets plates and arranges a table. A fragile woman is helped into a chair by a man whose face is etched with emotional pain. The kind that screams, My love is leaving.
The man turns to the boy. A distorted voice echoes through the room: “Thank you Kyle. I hate to ask but could you please help your sister tonight with her homework? I need to go in early, and your mom’s had a really bad day.”
“Of course, Dad,” Kyle says. “I told you I wanted to help.”
A little girl, maybe eight, pipes up: “Dad, he just thinks if he helps you’ll get him a new game!”
Kyle’s face falls. “No, Katie. Mom and Dad really need our help. I don’t need any more games while Mom is still sick.”
The dad glances up at the cupboard, where a copy of Dogomon is hidden. Then quickly back at the kids, making sure they didn’t see.
The video fast-forwards. Kyle does everything — cooking, cleaning, helping. Four days pass. He bursts into the house, paper in hand, and races upstairs. He hands it to his dad. The audio is garbled, but a few words cut through: “Congratulations… Support… Expenses Paid… Recovery.”
Joy floods the parents’ faces. The dad hands Kyle the game.
“Thank you so much for all you’ve done, kiddo. We got you this the first night you made supper. We were going to give it to you next month for your birthday, but this letter…”
The video fades.
And I cry.
What would’ve happened if I chose the other door? This makes no sense.
A message appears on the wall:
LIFE IS A SERIES OF CHOICES
Well, no shit, Sherlock. But they should be the individual’s choices, not mine!
You see the two doors again and angrily approach the one on the right, wiping the last of the tears from your eyes. “Save the children.”
What the… What kind of — I’m saving the kids. I don’t care.
You enter the room on the right. Same setup: two doors, flickering light, and the slam behind you. A video begins to play. A reporter stands in front of the White House. The garbled voice says:
“A new bill is passed that outlaws the use of the insecticide HVH3779, also known as Killer Bee Killer. The bill passed almost unanimously.”
The video speeds up. News articles begin to pop up — attacks by swarms of killer bees.
Oh my God. What did I do?
The knot in my stomach tightens. Bitter bile rises as the death count begins to climb. At first, it’s slow — a few thousand here, a few thousand there. Bursts of ten to fifteen. Then suddenly, the number spikes: five hundred thousand. Four hundred thousand. Six million.
With the outlaw of HVH3779, scientists are already noticing an extreme influx in killer bee offspring.
The screen freezes on a newspaper from my hometown. A picture of my best friend and my sister plastered across the front page. The headline:
FATALLY STUNG
The video fades.
And the message appears:
CHOOSE
“I refuse to play this sick game! I’m done!”
Silence echoes around you. Shadows cast by the flickering light stare back with sterile indifference. You sit on the ground, arms wrapped around your knees, refusing to even acknowledge the doors.
CHOOSE NOW
The message on the wall begins to flash. A cool breeze brushes the back of your neck.
“No! I refuse to play. Find someone else!”
Goosebumps rise on your arms. The hairs on your neck stand. The air crackles with static. You take a deep breath in defiance and feel fire in your lungs.
Oh my God. They’re trying to suffocate me.
Panic surges. You leap to the door on the left and wrench it open, the only thought in your mind: Air.
The door slams behind you. A note flutters to the ground. You pick it up. It reads:
SILENCE IS A PEACE OF MIND
You ignore it at first, eyes locked on the wall where the video usually plays. It’s blank.
Confused, you look up. Another message appears:
NO DECISION IS STILL A DECISION
Now distraught, you stumble to the left door and read the note.
“Right.”
You turn to the right door.
“Left.”
What is this? I want answers. Please — I’m begging you!
Tears blur your vision. You wait. Minutes pass. The light flashes blue, then yellow, then back to blue, and finally settles on white.
With no idea what to do, you step through the right door.
It’s a hallway. You follow it to a room — similar to the others, but this time, there are no doors. Just two hallways, one on either side, both leading back to where you came from.
The wall ahead glows with a message:
SOME OUTCOMES HAPPEN REGARDLESS
As the message fades, the wall that held it now reveals four doors, each marked with a note.
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You approach the first one and read:
“Tim wants to kill his boss.”
Okay… probably not going to choose this one.
You move to the next door:
“Tim’s boss overlooks his extraordinary work ethic and chooses nepotism.”
Alright, now I see why Tim wants to kill him. Hopefully the next ones are better.
Third door:
“Tim’s boss had an accident while golfing. Tim is now the boss.”
That seems a little ambiguous, but definitely better than murder.
Fourth door:
“Tim sleeps with his boss and gets killed by her husband.”
Oh wow. That was… unexpected, to say the least. Honestly, of all these, the third option sounds like the safest bet.
You enter the third door.
As you step through, you notice something strange. Each of the other doors seems to open into this same room. What the hell is this? What’s the point of choice if all the choices lead to the same place?
The door softly closes behind you. A projection flickers to life on the wall.
It shows a man in his mid-twenties, dressed in a suit and tie, sitting at a desk. Subtitles appear at the bottom:
“Tim thinks of killing his boss after being passed over for the promotion he was promised.”
The scene shows Tim opening an email. His expression shifts — curious, confused.
New subtitle:
“Tim receives an email from his boss explaining that while her choice of nephew was nepotistic, she is resigning and has recommended Tim to take her position. The change will happen next week.”
The video fast-forwards. Tim looks happy. He’s at a restaurant. He proposes. The camera swivels to the woman’s face. It’s his former boss.
Subtitles:
“Her husband left her, so she left the job. Tim and her became close and are happy together.”
Wow. That’s… actually sweet. But it still doesn’t explain why there were four choices. The only one that doesn’t make —
The screen flashes.
Now Tim is angry. Subtitles:
“Tim’s boss chooses nepotism over performance.”
Tim enters the room, reaches into his suit jacket, pulls out a gun, and fires three shots: one into his boss’s head, one into a young man seated nearby, and the third into his own.
OH MY GOD. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?
The screen flashes again. Tim is smiling. Subtitles:
“Tim has just received the promotion he wanted.”
He enters his boss’s office and invites her to celebrate with the team. She agrees. The scene shifts to a bar — Tim and his boss talking, laughing, making out. Then a bedroom. They lie naked beside each other.
Another man enters the room, face twisted in rage. He stabs Tim in the heart, then slits the boss’s throat.
Holy shit. It’s showing me the outcomes of the choices I didn’t make.
The screen flashes again. Tim is crying. The scene shifts to a golf resort. The camera follows from behind Tim’s shoulder as he crouches in a bush.
Subtitles:
“It took Tim a while to learn that his boss always missed the shot on the sixth hole and sank it into the bushes. Her playing partners knew it took her twenty minutes to find the ball.”
Tim crouches as his boss enters the thicket. He pushes her forward. She twists her ankle, falls. Her head snaps at an impossible angle.
Final subtitle:
“Tim left the golf course. His boss’s death was ruled an accident. A month later, he got her position.”
You stand frozen, reeling from the shock of what you just witnessed.
This can’t be real. It has to be a game. Why would he —
The thought trails off as a new message appears on the wall:
ONE DECISION CAN IMPACT SEVERAL LIVES
As it fades, three doors materialize.
You approach the first and read the note:
Your brother is sick
You move to the next, numb and hollow:
Your mother is sick
A tear forms as you brace for the third:
Your father is sick
You shatter inside.
This game is making me choose which one of my family to kill? I can’t do this.
A message appears above the doors:
CHOOSE
Please… just give me a minute to think. You’re asking me to make an impossible choice.
There’s no response. But you decide to take as long as you can. Your thoughts spiral — how can you be responsible for the death of someone else you love? This time is worse. You’re not just watching. You have to consciously choose.
The tears won’t stop. Your breathing comes in rapid bursts. After what feels like mere seconds, the lights begin to flash.
I can’t make this choice!
The air thins. Panic grips you. You grab all three notes, ball them up, and drop them to the ground. You mix them blindly, hands trembling, and pick one at random.
Your brother.
Your heart sinks.
The door corresponding to your brother glows faintly and opens on its own, as if the game knows you couldn’t do it yourself.
An invisible force pulls you into the room. The wall comes to life with three distinct videos playing side by side. Each one is identical — except for who gets sick.
You watch your brother, your mother, your father. Each one sweating, sneezing, blowing their nose. Each one crawling miserably into bed.
Each one waking up the next day… smiling. Healthy.
The videos fade.
A message appears:
NOT ALL CONSEQUENCES ARE BAD.
