Vox Mentis

They can't hear her, or see her. The recording is for later. Everything is happening on its own now.

Look for a way out of the chair. I assume they've got something keeping her in it.

Nothing is keeping you in the chair, except the helmet. You begin to peel it from your head. Part of it resists. When you finally get it off, you see that it's the needle, which is four inches long and wet with clear fluid. You put that on the floor and try not to think about it.

You get up and inspect the box under the chair that the helmet is attached to. There's nothing but a chip and a battery. You stand up and circle the chair. It's just a chair. You look at the video cameras. There's nothing unusual. They stand on heavy metal tripods, gazing at the empty seat.

“All right, Jessshica. It’s time to open the boxsssschhh.” No indication they have any idea what you're doing.

“Gahh,” you say. You begin to walk toward the box, but your heart fails you and you retreat back to the chair. “Fuck. Fuck.” Something mechanical purrs. A seam cracks open and the top of the box begins to rise.