You grunt. Your eyelids are laden and sluggish, so you decide not to open them yet. Your mind is inhibited with the drowsiness of the night’s sleep from which you just awoke. The room is bright, the blinds in the window behind your head doing a miserable job of blocking out the late morning sun. You reach up and grab the phone lying on top of the wooden frame of the bed, unplug it, and bring it down to your face. Forcing your eyes open, you blink at the blurry numbers on the screen for a few moments until they shift into focus enough to be readable: 11:23.
It’s late, but not late enough to force you out of bed; then, your stomach rumbles and you feel the depleted pit of acid shake in anger at its lack of material to melt. That’s enough: swinging the covers back, your legs swing out over empty space, and you leap the foot between your bed and rug to avoid incurring the shock of stepping on the cold tile floor. You sit down in the chair by your desk to slide on some socks and then trod to the bathroom. You notice the light that usually spreads under the door from your suitemate’s room is off. That’s odd, you think. Alex is almost always up before me.
You hear another growl emanating from your midsection and quickly change into clothes suitable for being in public before grabbing your wallet, keys, and phone and setting out from your room and into the hall lined with doors. You lock your door and travel down the hallway. It is completely empty and silent in the hallway save the slight sound of the friction between your shoes and the carpet and the rustling of your pants. You pass Kaitlyn and Karly’s room; there is no sound from within, but they sleep late on weekends. On your left is Zachary’s room. You stop for a moment, straining to hear the tell-tale sign of a YouTube video playing to indicate that he had not yet gone to bed, but hear nothing.
You frown at the lack of noise. You snap a few times right next to your ear—just to make sure you’re not going crazy—the sound sharp and loud, and then farther away, until your arm is fully outstretched. Should anyone happen upon you, they would undoubtedly brand you as odd for the scene you are making. The sound of the snap as your hand extends into space is less crisp, but still there. Oh, good. I’m not going deaf, I suppose, you think. I guess people are still asleep, for the most part. I can’t fault them for that; it is a Sunday, after all.
You shake your head to snap your thoughts away from the now less heavy silence and proceed out the door. You take a moment to glare at the sun with squinted eyes as it immediately assaults the sensitive organs, as usual, the moment you step from the safe haven that is the indoors. A bird trills in the tree to your left, and you turn, catching a glimpse of a red-chested bird with brown feathers. A robin. You listen as it calls out again and is answered by another in the tree across the small courtyard situated between two dorm buildings. At least the birds are making noises this morning.
There is no one in the courtyard, but then there is no need for anyone to be. Not only is campus supposed to be mostly empty due to the extended weekend for Martin Luther King Jr. Day, but the dorm in which you reside is the farthest out in this direction, so no one would need to travel by it. You shield your eyes with your left hand and turn to the right, striding off towards the cafeteria.
The space in between you and the building is void of people. There should be people traveling to and fro for food, recreation, whatever, but there is no one. You look for the usual group of three guys passing a soccer ball between each other in the grass field in front of the dining hall, but they are not there, either. No one is out throwing frisbee; there are no dogs being walked by their owners. Perhaps the weather is too uncomfortable for people to be outside, though it doesn’t feel that bad out today. You unlock your phone and open the weather app. It’s a crisp 40 degrees with a light wind from the northwest. Well, I guess it is still possible that no one wanted to be out.
You are now even with the side of the building. You glance through the large open window to your left; there is a Starbucks in there, but, there is no one inside. You stop by the doors and stare in through the panes of glass. The hours are written on them, but they’re too faded to read. Then, you notice that the lights are off. I guess it’s closed for the break. I’m sure people are in an uproar over that. Saying that, though, I don’t think Starbucks has ever closed for a weekend break. You shrug. You don’t drink Starbucks often, anyway, so you can’t bring yourself to care overly much.
Your stomach makes another ungodly noise, and you shake your head at forgetting your only real goal of the day. You turn back towards the doors of the cafeteria and approach. You tap the handicap button, and the leftmost doors swing open, allowing you to walk inside with minimal effort. I guess I see why people do this so often; it’s a great way to be lazy, though it’s not like it’s that much effort to open the door like usual.
You step through into the warmth of the building and look down to find your zipper and unzip your jacket. When you look back up, you notice the downstairs room is empty. The Subway right across from the entrance has no workers. Homestyle Cooking is equally as deserted, and the ever-present line at Moe’s is nowhere to be seen. Is the downstairs closed, too? What on Earth is happening on campus today?
You move onward to the stairs and climb up them to the buffet style cafeteria. Your footsteps echo as you go up the stairs; you strain to hear the voices of people gossiping about classwork or relationships, but, disturbingly, there are no human voices coming from out of sight above you. There isn’t even the sound of the television that usually sits across from the register to swipe in.
You make it to the top of the stairs and glance around, your hand already reaching into your pocket and pulling out your wallet. In a practiced motion, you flip one side open, and your card slides out. You go to catch it, but stop mid-movement. It clatters to the floor as your mind finally catches up to what your eyes are seeing. The room is empty. You stand, frozen, eyes stuck on the grill which usually cooks burgers. It is turned off and the lights above are dark.
You hear a growl. Your empty hand slaps against your stomach as you snap out of shock. Oh, shut up. You know I’m trying here! It rumbles again. Why is the building unlocked if everything inside is closed? Well, maybe it’s not all closed.
You snatch your card off the floor and bound back down the steps and turn to the only area of the building you haven’t been in: the campus grocery store. You press your face against the door, cupping your hands around your eyes to see in. The lights are on, but you can’t see anyone. You shrug. You can’t really see anything important from the door, anyway. The register is to my left, and the staff are probably behind it.
You push against the door, almost expecting it not to open, but it does. You step inside and immediately glance to where you know the register to be. There is no one behind it. You quickly maneuver through the three aisles, looking desperately for some staff member who can ring up some food so you can eat. The store is empty. Well, people or not, I’m not going to steal food. There’s no excuse for that, and the building probably has cameras anyway. Your stomach rumbles. I do need to eat, though.
You grab a box of Pop-Tarts and a small plastic bottle of chocolate milk. You start to turn back to the register, but quickly snap back around and grab a soda, as well. At the register, you scan the items and swipe your card through the card reader. Everything registers smoothly and you put your items in a bag before going back to your dorm. You still don’t see anyone, but your mind is too settled on food to really notice.
Once you are back in your room, you rip open the box and tear through two packages of Pop-Tarts, then drain the bottle of milk. Your stomach now full, you decide to work on some math homework due in the morning. Professor Schnyder would not accept “everyone on campus disappeared” as a viable excuse for not doing my homework. You reach into a drawer, pull out a calculator and press the “on” button. The screen remains blank. Oh, come on! Don’t tell me the stupid thing is dead! With the way my day is going, there’s no way I can buy batteries for this. I guess I’ll see if Alex has some.
You step out into the hallway and to Alex’s door. You knock a few times, and wait, but there is no answer. You knock again, just to make sure. Still no answer. I guess I’ll try Kaitlyn and Karly’s room. You stride to their door and rap it with your knuckles a few times. You wait a moment, but there is no answer. Come on! Someone in this hall has to be in their room! You go for one last stop at Zachary’s room. Still no answer. You start to walk away, nearly shaking in frustration. Halfway back to your room, you remember a few weeks back when Zach’s room was broken into. He had left it unlocked while he was off campus for some gaming tournament. Maybe he left it unlocked again?
You turn around and come back to his door. You slowly reach out and grasp the handle. You push a little. It gives slightly. You push harder and the door swings open. The inside is a mess. There is trash piled up in a corner: bags of chips, soda cans, plates of mostly eaten food. On the desk are three monitors, dark, turned off. You slide a few things around on the desk, looking for batteries on the off-chance that his miserable organizational skills would allow for them to be on the desk.
You grit your teeth slightly after a few moments of nothing, and then reach for the drawers of the desk. You grab the notch on top and begin to pull it out, but stop. What am I thinking? I am breaking and entering and trying to liberate batteries from Zach. What would he think if he came back and found me in here? You let go of the drawer and step back. Still, I need batteries for my calculator. I’m sure he’d understand. You open the drawer and rummage through its contents. There are many interesting things within, but no batteries. You look through the other two drawers, but find them discouragingly empty of batteries, too.
You exit Zach’s room shaking your head. Well, maybe I can check Alex’s room, too…I don’t know if the door is ever unlocked, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Having made up your mind, you walk back down the hall and attempt to open Alex’s door. It swings open just as easily as Zach’s. You step inside. It’s mostly clean, relatively well organized. On the table, you spot a remote. Well, if I can’t find batteries throughout the room, I can always borrow the batteries from the remote. I’m sure Alex won’t mind. I’ll give them back as soon as I’m done with my math homework, anyway.
You scavenge through the room, but come up empty-handed again, so you empty the remote of its batteries and exit the room. There are only two, and you need four, so you again decide to enter someone’s empty room. This time, Kaitlyn and Karly’s room. Without hesitation, you reach out and push the door open. You quickly walk in and gut the room in your search for two more Triple-A batteries. As only one drawer remains unsearched, you again feel hopeless at the ridiculous situation of the day. I swear the world is out to get me. This is just insane.
You open the last drawer and find not batteries inside, but something remarkably more valuable. Stuffed into the drawer are 10 bundles of cash. They’re thick enough that they barely fit, and all hundred-dollar-bills, too. Where…no, how on Earth did they get all this money? There’s no way they could get this money through ordinary means. I mean, we’re college students for Christ’s sake!
You stare at it in awe. Your mind drifts to your family at home; your younger brother and sister wearing hand-me-down clothes from their older siblings. Your parents’ older vehicles…your own car which you bought after three years of working thirty hours a week on top of high school. You think of your house; there are three bedrooms. You share one with your twin; your younger brother and sister share one. Your parents get the last. They’re somewhat cramped, but comfortable enough. Your life is hard, but not so hard as to be unbearable. But, you think, oh what my family could do with this money. We could afford so much more; we could go from surviving to living!
No! I must not steal. We can survive as we’ve been doing for as long as I can remember. I graduate this year; once I get a job, I can help mom and dad put Jacob and Alyssa through college. It’s not right to steal. You step back from the drawer and walk towards the door. Your hand reaches out to push the door open, but you are held back by a stray thought. I could only take, say, half. There’s a lot there. Kaitlyn and Karly certainly won’t miss it, and even if they did, they would have no way of knowing it was me.
You turn around and approach the drawer again. You kneel next to it and reach out. You run a finger along a bill. The material is smooth. Your fingers splay out and you wrap them around a wad as thick as you can hold in your hand. You pull and separate the bunch from the rest, then quickly shove the drawer shut to avoid more temptation. This is all I will take. Now, I should go back to my room and hide it.
You stride across the room with purpose; your hand reaches out to grab the handle and twist it open, but it begins to move of its own accord. You stand and stare, frozen in shock. It seems my luck is just meant to curse me, you think. The door opens and smacks against your shoulder. A voice calls out from the other side. “Who’s in there?”
You step back, still staring at the space that used to house the handle. The door swings fully open and a police officer steps into the room. He takes one glance at you holding a wad of cash in your hand. “Where’d you get that?” You try to open your mouth, but your lips seem glued together. You can’t say anything, so you just shake your head and point back at the drawer. The officer steps into the room and curly blonde hair becomes visible from behind him.
Jovial eyes and a smirking face pierce into your eyes and soul from between the dual curtains of hair framing a face. A hand reaches out and pries yours open, slipping the bundle of money from your clammy fingers. Karly drops the money on the floor. “I never thought someone would try to steal fake money, and I especially never thought you would be the hall thief.”
Your eyes narrow, your face a mask of confusion. You try to ask what she’s talking about, but your lips still refuse to part. Her smirk widens, if that’s possible. “Oh, don’t act innocent. We caught you rummaging through three different rooms and stealing from two.” Karly points directly above her and you see a camera mounted on top of the door frame. “It’s a pity. I thought it was Alex who was stealing stuff throughout the hallway, but I suppose my suspicions were only because of your rooming next door.”
The police officer approaches you from behind and you hear the sound of metal clinking. “You’re under arrest for two counts of larceny and three counts of breaking and entering.” You feel the cold metal of the handcuffs snap around your wrists and the world goes dark.
You grunt. Your eyelids are laden and sluggish, so you decide not to open them yet. Then, you hear a robotic voice. “Simulation complete.” Your eyes snap open and you sit up. As you do, a man’s voice calls out, “Thank you for your time. You’ll find your test results on the table in the next room. Please take the papers and exit through the marked door.”
You swing your legs off the table and follow the instructions, finding a single sheet of paper with your name on it, a few short sentences thanking you for taking part in the testing, and a percentage next to a bolded phrase. But what catches your attention is the large text at the bottom that only reads, Humanity’s moral compass is superseded only by that of its dubious nature.