January 11. Liveable neighbourhood trial paused after protests

 

The day was dawning, pausing for breath Logan did his best to move forwards, making sure he stayed undercover; he was 29 years 362 days old and needed to last another four days. He was still in Channel 6, had a month left before he could move to 7, and for the first time, felt scared.

Logan had signed up, desperate and willing to take any risks to win. He was confident in his ability make friends quickly, adept at appearing to listen to others and making his words count and since the lynch mobs are started, Marianne had called to say so long, Jim had called him beautiful, but Wayne had made it obvious he wouldn’t mourn his passing and was likely responsible for those on the streets calling for a change.

Something cracked or snapped ahead of him, a branch perhaps. Visually everything was perfect but the audio seemed to go in and out sometimes, breaking the auditory fourth wall, the grass momentarily Dralon.

“Who are you?” A woman’s voice, inquisitive, not threatening.

Logan tried to picture her, an Aunt?  Someone from the tele? There had to be a connection, that was how things worked. The siren called out an instrumental pop will eat itself tune. Only four more channels to go, he reminded himself, and it would be over.

“I can’t see you, but I can hear you skulking around, why are you hiding?” Her voice was closer now, soft, but no more recognisable, “I’m not one of them, if it’s you.”

Another decision to be made, another jump into the fire, Logan crossed his fingers and stood up, blinded by the light.