don't be afraid,

[shitglasses]

COMPROMISE OR DIE

CIRCLE is a 2015 film about 50 people waking up in a room with no memory of how they got there. Slowly they realize they have to choose who lives and who dies if anyone is to escape. Only one can walk away.

Fifty people is too many for a thread, so how about two?

SUDDENLY, you wake up in a strange dark room with another person. Maybe you know them; maybe they're a total stranger. There's no way to escape and only one way to survive. You find nothing of use, no doors and no windows, just a note etched into the wall: DECIDE WHO LIVES. IF NO DECISION CAN BE MADE, BOTH DIE. YOU HAVE ONE HOUR.

Ready, set, go.

Comments

[lottabones]

Triffany Lottablog. Professor of archaeology. Got some pretty good papers done during my tenure, but I'm not sure if there's much else I regret.

[She folds her hands and speeds through the list of academic accomplishments that she's already had.]

...Apart from not sayin' goodby to my husband.

[heal_or_execute]

Archaeology? Fascinating field.

[Mordin brightens up and looks ready to steamroll her with excited science chatter. Then she drops the part about her husband, and his face falls with sympathy.]

...I see. Personal regrets - unfinished business. Understandable. Common topic when contemplating mortality.

[lottabones]

Personal things don't really matter much once you're dust and bones. [She gives him a heavy shrug.] I think my office will be fine without me, but my husband...

[Triffany takes a deep breath, and exhales. Now's not the time to get beaten up about family. She still has an hour left. Mordin sees her swiftly switch her expression into a cheerful one, her paws held before her chest.]

Anywho, I believe you were an army doctor? That's what I'm guessin'.

[heal_or_execute]

Not quite. 'Special Tactics Group' - more of an intelligence unit. Sabotage, reconnaissance, occasional assassination.

[He rattles it off like a grocery list, pacing a bit back and forth, his long three-fingered hands gesturing.]

Retired now. Operate a clinic. Still get... consulted, sometimes.

[lottabones]

Ah. You don't see many doctors involved in that. [There's no judgement in her voice. People are different.]

And you take on those...non-medical jobs, too? Just wonderin' if you got somethin' important waitin' for you back home.

[heal_or_execute]

[Mordin hesitates for a moment, touching a long finger to his chin. Then he shakes his head.]

No. Yes, actually, but not important. Research backed up, data in safe hands. Near natural end of lifespan anyway.

[He lets out a quick, soft sigh.]

If escape impossible - logical choice for me to die. Lesser loss from utilitarian perspective.

[lottabones]

Are ya sure?

[Most people would jump at the opportunity to live, even if it was at the cost of a freely given life. Triffany's been looking forward to her eventual demise, and she has been ready to face it without a fight.]

You're a doctor. I'm sure you have plenty else to life for.

[heal_or_execute]

[Mordin blinks, thin membranes nictating sideways across his big dark eyes. Not the response he was expecting.]

...Yes. Much to live for. Interesting work, good friends. None of it more important than your life.

[He gestures towards her, and forces a thin-lipped smile.]

Tried to live saving others. Would like to end on similar terms. Neater that way.

[lottabones]

But-

[It's hypocritical to say this, but she can't let Mordin die.]

You could do so much good if you go back.