The Red Button

I wrote this when I was 17.

THE RED BUTTON

An uncontrolled chaos of voices spouted from hundreds of individuals, who each were rushing to find their correct terminals, mixed together in a random concoction that flowed energetically through the halls of the JFK airport. The closest thing to peace for these people would come later when they would forcefully compress themselves into a tiny airplane just to get hurled thousands of feet through the air. Various scents mingled in the air, whether it was the sweat of construction workers building a new terminal or it was the overwhelming smell of perfume that cascaded from the heavyset woman who pulled her two kids behind her.

None of this mattered to one man who sat alone on an insignificant black bench in the center of the boisterous airport. To his left was a television forced to lay words across the bottom of the screen so it could silently tell it's story. On the screen, at the time, was a local news reporter talking about a man who was killed by his sister. But the man on the bench was resigned to his own thoughts as he gazed down at a gold ring placed upon his finger. His green eyes were reflected back to him in the gold tint of the ring but he barely even noticed. The green eyes that were on his mind were the beautiful green eyes of his new wife. To everyone in the vicinity he was another nameless person taking up space and in their way, but to his wife he was known as Jason. She was everything to him, even his lips reminded him of that fact as he sat there, they slowly spread apart just to collapse back down several times, each time whispering the name of his wife into the stream of sound which carried it away and discarded it among the pandemonium. That though, was one thing he could never do, he would never discard her and for the time being he couldn’t even manage to cast her from his thoughts. He had been waiting weeks to see her after being taken from her for a job in New York City, finally, he was being brought back to her. Jason turned his sight from the ring and allowed his head to fall backwards upon the bench. The airport’s ceiling was white and lined with steel rafters. He, himself, was an architect and he loved the designs of buildings and learning how they worked, yet, he had another love on his mind still, his wife, Kimberly.

He closed his eyes and could imagine Kimberly on their wedding day. He could see her walking towards him wrapped around her father’s escorting arm. Her white veil rained down along with her long blonde hair. She had the biggest smile on her face that freed her white teeth. As soon as she could, she broke away from her father’s arm and hurried to her spot in the ceremony. She stood only a couple inches shorter than Jason, that being just one of the seemingly endless reasons to why she was so perfect for him. Every word that came from the preacher’s mouth simply crumbled away into a meaningless mumble as Jason stared deep into her eyes, to him, it was just him and Kimberly standing together, it was surreal. The splashes of yellow in her eyes faded to green which was abruptly cut off by the pupils’ of black. The iridescent lights surrounding them set off white sparks in her hollow black pupils. The memory reluctantly faded and the sparks burned themselves out. He was consumed by the black of her eyes and laid to sleep on the black bench in the middle of the JFK airport.

Unwillingly his eyes spread apart and he was conscious to the world again. Both of his arms flung themselves into the air to stretch and he let out a long yawn while his eyes crammed shut. His tongue dropped to the back of his throat and his stomach turned over the instant he opened his eyes. Above him was a single white ceiling, but the rafters were missing. The minor change was enough to throw Jason on the defensive as he jumped up from a small white chair. The unusual sounds that once polluted the air were now gone along with it’s creators. Now surrounding him were four white walls, a floor and a roof. In the corner of the roof was a white television set running a video feed of nothing but a white light. Two cords from the back of the televison escaped the room through a tiny hole in the wall.

He mumbled to himself, "Where am I?"

His mouth dropped open and began taking in air faster than he could let it out. Each rushed breath drove his heart into a hard pound that attempted to rip out of his chest. Blood from his head mimicked the people in the airport and fled, it compressed itself into his lower body and the only thing it managed to bring up into the air was his orange juice from that morning which sprayed over the white floor in a dull orange and yellow. His arms and legs seemed to weigh tons and they pulled him to the floor next to what had just forced it's way from his stomach and through his mouth. His throat and nostrils burned from the acid alongside his body which was slowly raising in temperature. The dim shadows that hid from the light above began merging with the white walls as the people’s voices had done in the airport. Everything started in a slow spin but gradually gained speed, he felt dizzy like the sweaty construction worker had when he ventured too close to the heavy set woman with excessive perfume. Before Jason knew it, he had found himself lost once again, this time in an outlandish reality. The spinning room had a hue of red pulled along with it and Jason did his best to make his eyes to focus onto it but it only continued to slip from his vision until his eyes crossed and were covered by his eyelids once again. There was nothing he could do but close them and let himself drift off again.

Once again consciousness came back to him and this time he was prepared to find himself in the all white room, now sprayed with orange and a lost individual. From the floor he could see tiny white bolts holding the chair in place which made for a better support to raise himself up. His head was thumping with pain and now he was allowed to focus upon the red that had mixed in with the white tornado he was trapped in before. Placed upon the wall at the same level as a door knob would be placed upon a door sat a single red button. He made his way towards it but still kept his distance, something about the button invoked fear into him and every step closer increased his heart rate. Blood rushed down from his head again but he still stood transfixed by the button. His arm stretched forward as far as possible so he could keep his body as far from it as possible. As his finger tip caressed the smooth surface he could feel the cold temperature run up his finger and send waves of shivers down his spine to the tips of his toes and the tips of his short blonde hair. Fear and curiosity fought inside of him; one telling him to get away from the button while the other told him he should see what happens. Ultimately, curiosity won after it was reinforced with logic that stated two relevant opinions. What could a single button do to hurt him? Plus it seemed to be his only chance of escaping this cryptic room.

The skin on his finger flattened out as he began to press the red button but just as the button started to ease into it’s chute someone cleared their throat behind him. Fear came back into the battle with such a vengeance it left Jason frozen with his finger still attached to the button. Following the cough was a maniacal voice that somehow seemed to convey two contradicting attributes; it was soothing yet malicious. “Please, Jason, I ask that you do not press that button, it could be the end of you.” The statement alone scared him away from the button and immediately his arms dropped to his side. The disembodied voice had said his name but he was still reluctant to turn and face it, until it urged him too. “Turn around Jason.”

He turned to meet the voice but all he found on the opposite side of the room was the television set and it’s white glow. “Hello, Jason, I would usually show some type of manners to my guest but we are slightly behind schedule and we have some business to attend to. I’m sure your doing great besides the fact you are in a room with no exit. . . and there is vomit at your feet.”

While the voice was speaking Jason had been working on getting working up his courage in order for him to speak. When he did his voice eluded him and only came out as a whisper “Who are you?”

Without pausing the voice answered his question though it was a whisper, “There is no need to know me Jason, just know that I know you. I know everything about you and-“

He couldn’t take hearing his name, it made him cringe on the inside and without further notice his mouth spoke in clear words, “Stop saying my name.”

But once again without a moment’s notice the voice continued this time showing clear hostility, “How about I say your wife’s name then?” Jason’s mouth dropped open and he was scared of the next words that emitted from the voice, “Kimberly.” Hearing his wife’s name sent Jason into a fury. He began panicking and becoming hysterical but the voice just continued, “I’m sorry Jason but whether you like it or not I will continue to say your name, and if I really want to I will also say Kimberly’s.”

Jason just broke down on the inside this time around and asked quietly, “What do you want with me?”

“Results, simply results.” The room went quiet and television that was recording a white light now began to show a dark shadow completely block the light out. Jason just waited and watched until the shadow went towards the light allowing it to show around it’s edges. The shadow was apparently a man and he was sitting in a chair. “Sit with me Jason.” The shadow had a long arm pointed towards the chair behind Jason. Just as Jason began to sit the voice started speaking again, “Now I can almost guarantee you will see your wife again by the end on this experimental survey. . . Just in most cases a body bag.” Jason immediately leapt from his chair and began screaming incoherently. That threat by the shadowy man with the maniacal voice once again set Jason into a frenzy.

“I will explain to you the rules as soon as you are seated again.” But Jason couldn’t sit after hearing the news he continued to scream. There was no way he could go without seeing his wife, it seemed unfeasible. After a few seconds of Jason’s rant the voice let out a high pitched screech from the television set that made Jason’s ears want to bleed. His hands cupped over them as he subjected to the shadow’s wishes and sat in the chair. Once the shrill was finished the man started speaking.

“The rules are simple. You will have thirty seconds to walk over to that red button and make the decision of two lifetimes. If you press the button you will die when the time runs out, so why would you push the button? To save a life, or to try to save a life. You see in another identical room is an identical button with an identical person waiting to press or not to press an identical red button. If they push the button they die but in doing so they have a chance at saving a life, this life being yours. Here’s the catch. If you don’t push the button, and the other person in the other room does, then you live and they die. Vice versa, if you push it and he or she doesn't then they live and you die. Here’s the secret. If you or the other person pushes the button neither of you will know, ever. If both of you push the button to sacrifice yourself then you both are dead for nothing if neither of you push the button then both of you die for being so selfish. Once I-“

Jason couldn’t help but ask another question, “Who's in the other room?” He had a feeling that he already knew who it was but he had to know for sure.

The voice just kept going, “As I was just explaining, once I start the countdown I will tell you who is in the other room. . . Are you ready to start?” Jason hoped by not answering that it could delay the man and give him sometime but the voice carried on. “Good lets begin.”

“NO, wait! Why are you doing this to me?” Jason began crying and he was panicking he didn’t have much time to live. He had to find a way out.

“I want my results, now are you ready?”

Jason began screaming “NO” over and over again but the voice went on to announce who was in the other room.

“Kimberly Garrison, maiden name Yarnell.” As the voice said the name time seemed to slow down. He now knew he would never see his wife again. He broke down and fell to his knees crying he didn’t know what else to do.

Then a new voice emerged, a woman’s voice that almost sounded fake, “Thirty seconds until termination process.” Jason jumped up and began to try whatever he could though he knew it was useless. He charged the wall holding the television and began kicking and punching it but no damage was apparent.

“Twenty seconds until termination process.” Jason began jumping up and down trying to grab hold of the television and pull it down but once again he failed, it was too high. He started to break down again but was rejuvenated by the man’s laughter. Jason ran for the-

“Ten seconds until termination process.”

-chair. Jason tried to grab the chair but the bolts had a tight grip. He turned to the screen where the man had previously rested and he saw the image of his wife crying next to the button. He couldn’t tell what she had done but was able to see what he had to do. He slowly stepped towards the button as the lady started back again, “Five. . .” Jason stopped in front of the button. “Four. . .” He began stretching his arm out for it while keeping his body as far away as possible. “Three. . .” He rested his finger on the button’s cold surface and turned to face the- “Two. . .” -screen where his wife was trapped inside.

Jason spoke up as he pressed the button, “I love-“

”One.”

“You.”

A beep echoed through the room then the woman stated, “Countdown complete, commence termination process now.” The screen went blank and turned off. Jason turned to the button he had pressed and pulled his finger away. He and the button stared at each other as he waited for death. The televison made a clicking noise and Jason turned to see the man who had been previously submerged in white light. The man had brown hair nicely combed to the side and was wearing a black suit. He seemed so familiar, but said nothing just watched until the television clicked of again. Jason wiped away tears from his face that would continue for the rest of his remaining life. As he lowered his hand from his eyes he could see down the barrel of a gun held by the man in the suit.

Just as the man had promised Jason saw his wife once more. He saw her through the barrel of the gun. She was walking towards him like it was the wedding day all over again. This time her father was not escorting her down the aisle, this time it was a bullet. His wife’s green eyes were no longer splattered with yellow enclosing two black pupils. Now they were chunks of blood soaked brain splattered against a white wall let loose from Jason’s skull. His memories etched their way down the side of the wall to form a puddle on the white floor where each memory would only dry, never live again.

A couple days later, a reporter on a local television network explained to the public that a body had been identified as Kimberly Garrison the wife of suicide victim Jason Garrison. The reporter spoke into his microphone with a soothing voice and hint of wickedness, almost maniacal. “Police assume the husband murdered his wife and then went on to take his on life.”