Remel has made his way back to the university. The time is 14:00. Keys is in the poet’s room.
Despite the fact that Remel didn’t intend to go anywhere in particular, he had inevitably ended up in ‘The Poet’s Room’. The door was open slightly, silently inviting Remel in. Keys was standing in the middle of the room, which was empty, with open arms. For the first time, there was a smile on Keys’ face. The light bulb which was usually off during the daytime, went supernova on Remel’s arrival. He struggled to keep his eyes open as the warmth attacked his face.
“Shift forward,” he said to Remel (who was already in the room).
Unsure as to how to react, he could only step forward. His next step, however, was nothing of the ordinary. Before he could land his foot on the floor, he dropped. In the first fraction of the second, Remel assumed that he had just taken a false step, but he struggled to regain footing. His eyes were unable to open, and he zoomed downwards into an invisible abyss. He wailed for help, but there was no one at his disposal. A cold spot fell on Remel’s forehead amidst the radiance of the light which still shone on him as he tumbled downwards into nothingness. He could only be mortified during his beyond abnormal descent to death. Within a minute of falling, and a throat aching from screaming, he was able to open his eyes to find himself on a metallic floor completely unlike the one in ‘The Poet’s Room’. The cold spot on his forehead materialised itself into a finger as Remel’s vision cleared. He lay on his back analysing the foreign surroundings with a group of people staring at him in the dark.
“He’s up and running!” shouted Keys as he lifted his finger from Remel’s forehead.
The room that they had been transported to was roughly the same size as the poet’s room, but this one was filled with state-of-the-art technology and devices. The room was dark, and the little amount of light that came from the computers was absorbed by the black metallic walls. Remel could barely make out an emblem on the wall which read ‘Uncensored Change’.
“Send him back. We’re not ready!” replied a deep and coarse voice.
And so Remel took the journey he had just fallen into with reversed effect. He found himself on his feet again in the poet’s room.
“What was that!” shouted Remel, when he returned to the empty room before fainting abruptly.