Stepping through the doors, the bleak world was now dimly lit by a single dull bulb on the ceiling. Finally breaking from his stream of consciousness, the crow examined the new room.
No longer was he surrounded by plastic, but instead a rusty metal interior with thin strips rising to a roof, glass windows filling the areas between the strips of metal and the wall behind the bird. The room as a whole was utterly massive, befitting a human more than a tiny corvid. The floor was a sheet of metal polka-dotted with black feathers.
What caught his attention more than anything, however, was a giant hole in the center, the exit guarded by a grate. Perching atop the metallic cliff above the hole, the crow could see three levers. Beyond the windows were three pipes, all separated from one-another in a dark blue expanse.
Of the three levers, the crow pulled the red lever on the left toward himself, resulting in the nearest crane to sink below him. As the crane halted, a swishing sound from below summoned the bird who saw the barrier was lowered, but another one guarded the pipe’s exit. Flying back up, the crow pulled the middle, green lever, resulting in the middle second crane swaying from right to left before stopping; the sound of a barrier lowering was heard again, this time more distant. Pulling the final, blue lever, the third crane moved diagonally into place.
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Flying down and making his way thought the pipes, the crow watched as the barrier blocking his exit removed itself, but he had spun around at a swishing noise behind him. The barriers at the front had closed again, a sense of déjà vu flooding the corvid’s stomach, and ill sense to be sure.
As the small bird made his way into the second pipe, the gate behind him closed, a sense of urgency compacted with déjà vu had sent him into a panic, his instinct driving him to begin running forward as fast as his stick legs could carry. He would fly if the space around him would allow it, but alas the pipes were too narrow.
Just as he got to the end of the second pipe, he dove through the rising barrier and kept running, anxiety beginning to well up inside. As he came to the end of the final pipe, he dove through the barrier, pulling his left leg in just before it could be crushed by the thick wall.
“Day 274:
That’s it, the man has shut me down. Sharp took one look at my magnum opus and shook his head, told me to pack my things and leave. I thought he was an inspector, not a supervisor. He said he’ll give me a week to pack everything.
Birds are my job, they’re my hobby, they’re my life. I didn’t dedicate my heart and soul to becoming a scientist to be shot down by this…I can’t even write those words. I have one week, I’m going to make it count.”