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Mythology

The lift doors slide gracefully open and I’m met by a smiling blonde woman holding a clipboard.

“Hello and welcome to PRGT enterprises. If you’d like to follow me…” she glides back, allowing me to enter

the elevator, which I notice, is unusually larger on the inside. I step in and turn to face the now closing doors.

“Where am I?”

The woman smiles again. An oversized toothy grin that makes me feel uneasy. “You…” she flips a paper over

on her clipboard and examines it, “are going to floor seventeen.” She chuckles slightly.

What?

“Hmm, that’s where all our extreme cases go. You must’ve been through hell already to get yourself a ticket

there!”

Sorry, what?

The lift begins to ascend as the woman presses the button marked 17 with a dainty, perfectly manicured fin-

ger. I realise as we fly through the building (I assume this is a building, that is…) that the entire lift interior is

made up of mirrors, aside from the floor and a dark wooden panel containing the floor numbers. My reflection

stares at me with the same expression I feel on my face.

Only, there’s something different about it… Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

Ping!

“Here we are.” the woman announces as the doors open to reveal a red room with black carpets and cream

coloured chairs lining the walls and centre, like an airport waiting area. In fact, everything about the room is

very much like an airport, except for the lack of windows looking out onto the runway and departure boards

on every wall.

The woman ushers me into the room and immediately, every head occupying the hundreds of seats snap up

to gawk at me.

Oh god.

“Okay, Miss…” she checks her clipboard again, “Pinn, if it’s okay, I’d like to ask you just a few quick questions

before you take a seat.”

“Uh, sure.” I reply, aware of the two hundred eyeballs goggling at me profusely.

“Lovely.” she scuttles around to face me, clipboard and pen at the ready, “What do you remember before

seeing me in the elevator?”

I shrug. “Nothing.”

“Okay, that’s good.” she scribbles furiously on the paper. “Now, do you know where you are at this moment in

time?”

“No, can you?”

“Great, that’s all in order.” again, her pen scratches madly at the paper, “Finally, can I get you a drink? Per-

haps something to eat?” Her unnatural grin is beginning to get disturbing, chilling me right to the core.

“No thanks, I’m good. But could you tell me where?”

She cuts me off midsentence with a quick, “You sure?” Then she hands me a slip of paper with a number on

it and disappears into the elevator again, her shoes clacking against the metal floor.

The moment she’s out of sight behind the doors, a loud rumble of chatter erupts from the people already oc-

cupying the room. I slowly turn around.