Having recovered from the perilous act before, the crow made his wait to a noisy, poorly lit room. Unlike the prior room that was constantly lit by the ever-present threat from below, this room’s lighting came off and on. Or rather, simple pushing machines had blocked the bulbs at regular intervals.
Through the teasing of the light, the bird could pull together the shape of the room. The walls were rectangular, colored a refined silver as if brand new. The room was insanely thing, allowing the crow to fly straight up without any wiggle room from his beak to his tail. The walls to the side stretched fairly far; the floor immediately below him was a pool of feathers, inviting fairly unpleasant images into his mind.
Making the journey up, the crow perched on top of the piston that kept blotting out the bulb. The piston was not alone in this crime, as on the edge of the circular machine was another crow, its outstretched body covering any light that might’ve escaped the pillar’s greedy grasp.
Right above the piston was another piston, though to the corvid’s relief, it didn’t travel far enough to crush him unlike the one he perched upon. Further upward was another light and set of pistons, but the crow would have to time his flight as more crushers eagerly awaited his folly, grinding their mechanical teeth in anticipation.
When he saw his opening, he bolted upward, but he was too late to fly above the pillar blocking the next light. Right below that piston was another one that threatened to crush the bird, forcing him downward.
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With little time to think, the black bird rushed up past the light, but he was immediately halted by a piston about to reach the left wall, forcing him back down. Suddenly he flew back up when he realized another piston was a feather away from munching on him. Perching on the piston with which he best, the crow flew up when he felt it retract, unable to rely on the light below as guidance.
In the dark, the crow flew with the hope that he would make it to the top, where the top took him. Up, up, and up he flapped his wings, praying that if there were any more pistons, they would miss him. With a thud, he had hit something he could not see nor immediately identify; what it was didn’t matter, for his hopes were dashed when he felt the push of the metal machine against him.
Too fast to lower himself, the bird simply accepted his fate without any retaliation, unafforded the luxury of regret, too scared to reflect on his past life. When all seemed lost, when the monster had its fangs wrapped around its victim, it relinquished the crow into another tube. At one end, the crow could see another light stretching from beyond.
Whether the metal monster had taken pity on the crow or wished him to suffer longer, he did not rest on. Instead, he followed the light, some sliver of hope still remaining within him.
“What am I doing and why? I was given one week to evacuate the premises. Somehow Sharp has not come around to check that I’ve really left. I wonder when he will? I wonder if he will? I hope he doesn’t. I hope no one sees what I’ve done. I only have a few friends left. Maybe it would be better if I just set them free now.”