The poll timer pulsed in the center of Hanson's vision like a heartbeat.
00:05… 00:04…
A man tried to start a prayer, lost his words halfway, and ended up whispering, "Sorry, sorry," to nobody in particular.
Percentages surged with terrifying speed.
A) HANSON — 44%
B) THE CROWD — 49%
C) CLOSE IT NOW — 7%
Hanson backed toward the narrowing doorway, sweat cold on his spine.
"Move!" he shouted into the maintenance corridor. "Everyone move!"
Elena shoved people deeper into the service passage, face twisted with rage and fear. "You heard him! Keep going!"
The creature advanced, slow as a nightmare.
The Psi-Filter in Hanson's head muted the pressure hum, but he could feel its countdown—like ice melting under his skin.
The doorframe pinched tighter.
If he misjudged, he would get cut in half by a decision made by strangers.
The poll ended.
RESULTS FINAL.
B) THE CROWD — 52%
The system obeyed.
The doorframe narrowed again, but not to trap the crowd.
To trap Hanson.
The gap became just wide enough for one shoulder.
Elena screamed. "No—!"
Hanson shoved his pipe through the opening and swung on instinct, striking the creature's reaching limb. The kinetic burst knocked it back a step.
The Psi-Filter timer flashed: 00:06… 00:05…
Hanson took a breath and did the only thing he could.
He dropped the pipe.
The chat exploded with panic.
DON'T DROP IT
WHAT ARE YOU DOING
NO WEAPON
RUN
Hanson turned sideways and squeezed into the narrowing gap.
The metal and concrete pressed into his ribs. His shoulder scraped, skin tearing. The world squeezed like it wanted to snap him.
For one horrible second the doorway caught him—half in, half out—then the reality pinch relented just enough for him to spill into the maintenance corridor.
The moment his feet hit the service floor, the doorway slammed shut behind him with a metallic shriek.
Elena grabbed his jacket and hauled him backward. "Are you insane?"
Hanson's lungs burned. "It was going to—"
"It was going to kill us anyway," Elena snapped, then flinched at her own words. "Sorry. I just—"
The service corridor was a narrow concrete tunnel lit by emergency bulbs that buzzed like angry insects. Pipes ran along the ceiling. Water dripped somewhere steady and patient.
More people had made it through than Hanson expected.
Not everyone.
Hanson didn't look back. If he looked back, he'd start counting.
The red ● LIVE badge pulsed.
The heart count climbed in small, guilty increments.
♥ 260,889 → 271,003
As if the audience liked the squeeze.
The chat, now steadier, scrolled with human fear.
NYC_EMT: YOU SAVED LIVES
BRO YOU DID THAT
I THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD
KEEP MOVING
Elena guided them deeper, keys jangling like a nervous habit. "There's a junction ahead," she said. "Service corridors connect to a hub. Maintenance access. Equipment storage."
"A hub?" Hanson repeated, remembering the objective.
Subway Hub.
A set.
Something in his vision flickered—a channel panel sliding up like an overlay you'd see under a video.
TRENDING TAGS:
#EarthOnline
#NYCContestant
#BottleneckChoice
The word Choice made Hanson's skin crawl.
A new donation alert popped up with a sparkle sound that made several people flinch as if it had physical weight.
✨ DONATION! ✨
From: "Helix_Bazaar" (Verified Offworld)
Gift Offer: "Sound Dampener (Field)"
Effect: Mask movement; reduce monster detection.
TERMS: Keep stream on. Stay in frame. No private zones.
Buttons hovered.
ACCEPT / DECLINE
Elena pressed her palm to a woman's trembling hand—steady, one beat of contact—then pushed her forward before fear could root her.
Hanson stared at the offer while running, anger rising. "No private zones?"
Elena looked at his face, then at empty air. "What? What are you looking at?"
"It's… never mind." Hanson swallowed. "They're offering something that makes us quieter. But it comes with terms."
Elena's voice dropped. "Everything comes with terms."
They reached the junction. The corridor split in three directions, each marked with faded paint.
ELECTRICAL
STORAGE
HUB ACCESS
The emergency bulbs flickered.
Hanson's interface chimed.
POLL (EARTH) — 00:12
WHERE SHOULD THEY GO?
A) ELECTRICAL
B) STORAGE
C) HUB ACCESS
The crowd behind them murmured, panicking, trying to decide without knowing the poll existed. A surge of helpless laughter climbed his throat.
We're not choosing. We're being chosen.
Percentages swarmed over the options.
C) HUB ACCESS climbed fastest—"hub" sounded like safety, because humans loved the word access, because the audience wanted the story to go where the system had already labeled it.
Hanson looked at the donation offer again.
Sound Dampener.
If monsters were following the camera, maybe quiet wouldn't matter.
But if monsters followed sound too—if any advantage could keep these people alive long enough to matter—he couldn't pretend pride was useful.
Elena's eyes were on him, sharp. "Hanson," she said. "Whatever you're doing, do it fast. People are losing it."
A child began to cry in the crowd. A man hissed at the child to stop. The mother glared, lips trembling.
Hanson made his choice.
He accepted the donation.
The interface flashed.
TERMS ACCEPTED.
STREAM VISIBILITY REQUIREMENT: ACTIVE.
A subtle shimmer rolled out from Hanson's body in a wide radius, like heat distortion. The sound of their footsteps softened. The child's crying became muffled. Even the clink of Elena's keys dulled.
People noticed and went quiet with awe.
"What…?" Elena breathed, staring at the air as if she could see the shimmer.
Hanson didn't answer. He couldn't.
Because a new icon appeared at the top of his vision, right beside the red ● LIVE badge:
🔒 FRAME LOCKED
And a line of text, small but sharp, pinned itself under the donation terms like a warning label:
Violation Penalty: Exposure Cut.
Elena led them into HUB ACCESS.
The poll ended.
RESULTS FINAL.
C) HUB ACCESS — 81%
The corridor ahead brightened, emergency lights flaring to guide them like runway lights.
The system was helpful when it wanted to be.
The hub opened into a larger maintenance chamber with shelves of tools and crates, a central panel of breaker switches, and—at the far end—something that didn't belong in a subway.
A black obelisk, glossy as wet stone, standing ten feet tall and humming softly.
On its surface, icons shimmered like a menu rendered by someone who had studied human interfaces and missed the point.
Text hovered above it:
EXTRACTION ELIGIBILITY TERMINAL
CURRENT QUALIFIED CONTESTANTS: 0
The crowd stared. Someone whispered, "What is that?"
Hanson stared harder.
Because his interface added a subtitle beneath the terminal, visible only to him.
Requirement: First Blood (Confirmed) + Viewing Quality (Pending)
Elena's voice broke. "Extraction. That means… that means we can get out, right?"
Hanson didn't answer.
He was watching the number.
And he was watching the word Pending.
Because he could already feel the next truth approaching like the pressure of the monster behind the door.
There was an exit.
But it wasn't a rescue.
It was a prize.