[ You walk into a cramped, claustrophobic room. The walls are haphazardly papered in an overwhelming number of photos and notes, some of which are smudged with glossy, rusty brown smears.]
[ The yellow power cable winds around underfoot, over a floor that’s spattered with blood both new and old. At the far end of the room, it plugs into the base of a narrow pedestal with a single large, red button on top. The pedestal is labeled with a small, metal plaque that reads “SIMULATION”.]
[ There’s a yellow sticky note stuck to the button that says “DO NOT PRESS”.]
[ Despite the note, you can tell by the number of old, bloody handprints all over the button that it’s been pressed many, many times before. ]
Culpa
[ You walk into a cramped, claustrophobic room. The walls are haphazardly papered in an overwhelming number of photos and notes, some of which are smudged with glossy, rusty brown smears.]
[ The yellow power cable winds around underfoot, over a floor that’s spattered with blood both new and old. At the far end of the room, it plugs into the base of a narrow pedestal with a single large, red button on top. The pedestal is labeled with a small, metal plaque that reads “SIMULATION”.]
[ There’s a yellow sticky note stuck to the button that says “DO NOT PRESS”.]
[ Despite the note, you can tell by the number of old, bloody handprints all over the button that it’s been pressed many, many times before. ]