found drama

One. You walk in to the kitchen and there she is, pint glass in hand. On the counter is the nearly empty bottle of that rare and expensive beer that you had been saving. She is enjoying it. It feels like a betrayal although she claims it was an honest mistake. She offers you what’s left in the bottle (not much) but none of what’s in here glass. Two. The hotel is a single, vaguely conical shape. All the rooms are along the exterior and slowly spiral upward. There is an elevator in a central shaft but otherwise the “hallway” is a single continuous ramp that slowly wraps upward. And you are naked and locked out of your room. Your sons are inside but one is too young to let you back in and the other is taking a malicious delight in your embarrassment and peril. You scramble from door to door, trying them, but they’re all locked. There is nowhere to hide and you can hear a family coming slowly closer. Three. Somewhere between a job fair and a course catalog, but at the United States Air Force Academy. Perhaps a bit like a science fair? You go from booth to booth and station to station, learning little bits about each possible career path within the branch. One station is a simulation of flying a fighter plane. You sit down and a helmet is placed on your head — VR goggles over your eyes and electrodes attached to your scalp. You “fly” expertly, albeit perhaps a little too closely to the enemy craft. But an electrode slips free and the simulation spins wildly out of control. The helmet is suddenly snatched away and you are intensely scolded.

About Rob Friesel