"You all were elected," Celia Dupoint said. "To keep our world alive. Perhaps you all think you are being thrown in a death trap, but you are not. There are possible ways to escape the Siniverse. Syndee has said so himself."
"Who's Syndee?" a girl from Austrailia asked. She was a cute girl, perhaps thirteen, with twin braids and tan skin. Her voice did not fit her body, however. She almost sounded like a boy.
"Wonderful question," Celia interjected. As a matter of a fact, I have ruled this place or nearly a hundred years and yet nobody has ever asked me that. Syndee rules the Siniverse. He is a God of sorts, and controls what goes on in there, that is, excluding you. You control yourself."
"That's probably because everyone know already," someone interjected.
"So he sets us up to die," she repeated. "Great, I hate him already."
We all said yes in our own way.
Celia shook her head, however. "It is your choice whether you live or die. You make your own actions."
"But he makes them harder," a boy in the back corner with a Norse accent asked.
Celia ignored him.
"You all seem so reluctant to go through with this. I would like to let you each know that what you are about to do will save the world as we know it. If it weren't for you, our world would collapse. There would be no hope and we would all live impoverished and sick. What you all need to understand is that you are all our heroes."
Various thoughts ran through my head. Little thoughts about how insincere Celia was and how or why anyone would choose me for something like this and how I was going to survive. I suddenly found myself raising my hand.
"Yes," Celia said, taking aback slightly by the fact I was seemingly more polite than anon else here. "American girl, what's your question."
"Why us?" I asked. "Why are we chosen? How?"
Celia smirked ever so slightly. "Syndee chooses. He chooses you each based on your individual fears and strengths."
"Why fears?" I asked.
"Because that's what the Siniverse focuses on. May I ask what your name is?" she asked me.
"It's Poplar. Poplar from America."
"I see." She typed something into her handheld device that almost caused it to ring again.
"Well I think you'll be pleased to know why you've been chosen. "
"I seem to doubt that," I said and sat back. Celia wasn't amused.
A week passed where we trained and prepared to take the Siniverse. It wasn't as much training as it was mental prepration. I was careful not to make friends because I knew that I would lose them, or that they would lose me. It was the final day of preparation, and every one of us were gathered in a room together, exhausted mentally and physically unable to fight. Each of us had traded in our country colored outfits for black ones. Lucky for me, mine were already black. That day, I had my thick brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Most of the other girls there had tried their best to look pretty by the use of makeup or hair rollers. The men had also tried to look strong, but I, with my model build and natural tan, felt enough self confidence that I didn't care how I looked. I also had enough sense to know it didn't really matter.
Celia entered late that morning, a handkerchief in one had that she continually blew her nose in. "It's hard to believe you all leave today. I feel so proud and so close to each nd every one of you now," she wiped a tear, "and I hate to see you all go."
She was so insincere in everythign she did. I couldn't bring myself to like her, despite the fact that she controlled me and everyone else.
"Today, you each choose a weapon. There is only one of each, so choose carefully. Choose something you feel that you can handle, that can help you, and that you can find solace in."
She opened a cabinet door to a weird holographic conainer. I didn't know holographs even existed anymore.
"One at a time, youngest to oldest," Celia instructed as we each lined ourselves up in the correct order. Thank god we had stickers with our birthdays on our chests. At almost eighteen years old, I was closer to the end. I watched as each person chose their individual weapons. Guns, knives, swords, hammers, anything you could imagine was there. As I came closer to the front of the line, I watched every person walk away with exactly wat they needed. I had no idea what I would be able to handle so I chose not to think about it.
When it was my turn, a holograph with three different weapons surrounded me. There were three images, me with each weapon: a spear, a lance, and an axe.
"I-I don't know," I muttered.
An unfamiliar voice answered me. It was male "Choose what you feel the most connected to. It'll be the most beneficial to you."
I looked at each image-- pictured myself with each weapon, fighting. I then reahed my hand in and grabbed the double-headed axe. As I walked away, my new weapon in hand, I watched the next person grab a pistol.
So that hour was up and we all gathered around Celia. She was done with that sad act. Now she was down to business. It was colder now than before. It wasn't until I scooted closer to the guy beside me (Ethipia, I think) for warmth, that I noticed the giant portal in the wall.
I feel like we all noticed at the same time because a wave of panic overcame each of us. "Holy shit," I muttered.
"I'm not going through that thing," the Ethiopian guy stood up and said.
"Celia, there has to be another option. Why can't we strike up nother deal?" a girl from France panicked.
"There is no other option," she said with a tone that was colder than ice. "This is for the greater good."
"I don't care about the greater good," I called out, and everyone started to yell.
Suddenly we heard a scream. She had just pushed a guy through the portal.
I knew at that moment that there was no backing down. We had to do this, and none of us wanted to. I started to feel the tears fall down my face in the chaos. This was really happening.
"So who's next?" Celia asked, and when nobody answered, she pushed the closest person to her through the portal. We all fought for a while before finally giving in, forming a straight line and awaiting our iminent death. After about thirty minutes, she approached me. I kept my head lowered and my eyes closed.
"Good luck, Poplar," Celia said. "I really mean it."
Celia didn't push me down the portl immediately. She gave me a minute to compose myself first in case I wanted to step in on my own, but when her small hands touched my back and I started to spin, I knew there was no going back. I kept my hands glued to my axe.
This was real. I was going to die soon.