The Cassandra Concept

part 0.01 - 
part 0.02

They follow the man in scrubs down some corridors. The lighting is even worse, than in the janitors lounge. The stinging smell of sanitizer and some aggressive detergent gets stronger with every step.

Decker shows them the way.

The soft gleam oozing from the last vending machine fades away.

The longer they go, the harder it gets to breathe. It’s hot and stuffy.

Tom is too late, but Steve is not asking him why. He really got scared, that his test subject has second thoughts. In those eternal ten minutes, he makes up a Plan B.  What amount of booze he needs to persuade a hobo to play along? And then Tom arrives, not greeting him, not looking him into the eyes. This is bad… Alternatives might be needed…

Somewhere in front of them, Decker rustled with some keys.

God knows where he got them from, or what he paid to get them. Money… Something Decker never scorns, God bless him.

Behind Steve, Tom drags his feet and coughs nervously.

Decker slows down, as he reach a bin.

In the bin, there is a back-pack and a  small oxygen bottle. He pulls out the two items and opens a big heavy fire door.

His foot holds the wing of the door open, and makes an inviting gesture into the solid darkness. “Welcome to hell.“ Tom can’t suppress a gasp. Crap! Steve thinks of hitting Decker, with a chair or something. Right into that greedy mug of his. “Don’t get worked up! I’m joking.“

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