Her vegetable garden looked neat and orderly, like it had just been watered a while ago, so she couldn’t be far. Red knocked again, harder this time and then pushed the door open.The hut of her grandma was quite old, and didn’t even have locks on the doors, so she let herself in to the small, crowded room inside which was dimly lit by the sun shining through the small windows. She carefully stepped through the kitchen and around the corner, where her grandma’s bed stood, alarmed by a movement she saw there. As she came closer, she noticed the older woman rolled up under her blankets, with barely her head sticking out.Worried, Red began to touch her gently, feeling her hair soft and warm, but short and thick in places. “Grandma?” Red whispered cautiously, running her fingers across the features of her face. “Are you alright? You seem to have larger ears and eyes than usual?”“Mmh, I’m okay,” the woman replied, hoarse and muffled. “Don’t worry about me, just sit that basket down over. All of us are in the same situation. I’m second from the right end of the line. The wall in front of me is black glass. The room is brightly lit, so I can’t see through the glass, but I get a great view of the ten of us standing here, naked, noosed, waiting.An execution? No, a rather complicated and lethal game. As I said, I can’t see through the glass. But I know what’s there: a wide corridor with a little console in front of the glass. The console has a slot for a credit card, a dial to select one of us, a switch labeled "drop: long/short", and a big red button.Waiting. I don’t know when, but sooner or later a customer will swipe a credit card and push the button, and one of the trapdoors will open. Maybe one of my friends. That’s happened three times already. The first was Carole. She was a blonde, big-busted and leggy, shaved. Her trapdoor opened, and she kicked and struggled for nearly five minutes before going still. She’d enjoyed the hell out of it, though, her nipples erect.
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