[ WP ] There are 6 people on an elevator . It suddenly shuts down and a voice from the speaker said : The elevator will only function if there is only one left alive .

He dragged himself out of bed reluctantly. It ’ s been a while since he ’ s had to use this odious alarm clock. Been a while since he ’ s had to rise before noon. He knew he should be happy about getting a job interview after 9 agonizing months of dinking, internet porn and endless online job applications ( and really the job applications were the only addition to the routine from his employment days ). 
 
 But he was also acutely aware of the countless, nameless others who were applying, networking, interviewing. Well-qualified, degreed, experienced. He wasn ’ t much of a doer, so to speak. He had gotten his associates degree after a string of unfortunate hourly gigs and that afforded him opportunities a cut above the miserable retail and food industry hell that he knew so well. And that was enough. Until the layoff. 
 
 After a brisk shower and the blackest cup of coffee, he headed to the apartment parking lot. His banged up car looked even more banged up than usual. Got in, ignored the smell, and headed toward the ugly faceless building that looked very much like the place of his previous employment. 
 
 The elevator smelled of sweat and cheap cologne. He pressed the button for the third floor. It appeared his elevator mates – all five of them – were all headed for the same floor. Judging by their formal attire, visitor badges and nervous expressions, probably to interview for the same measly position. Of course. 
 
 Preening her dry, stringy hair, the heavy-set woman in front of him was throwing furtive glances at her the other occupants. And what a miserable bunch they were: A tall, skinny man with a serious face and sallow skin fidgeting with his old-fashioned brief case; some pimply youngster, probably fresh out of college; an older guy in a wrinkled suit and a rat-faced, blondish fellow with an unpleasant smile. 
 
 That smile quickly disappeared when the elevator shut down with a terrible, violent sound and a robotic voice from the speaker announced: “ The elevator will only function if there is only one left alive. ” He laughed. Was this a joke? The pimple faced started saying something with a whiny, nasal voice. The woman shushed him: “ Quiet! Maybe it ’ s a test? Part of the interview, you know. ” 
 
 Test or not, Rat Boy looked deranged. His unpleasant smile stretched to its limit, his small yellow teeth showing. “ You bet it is, ” he hissed. And then he lunged forward clawing at the woman, reaching for her throat. Meanwhile, his sallow faced companion got busy jabbing at another with what appeared to be car keys. Thick blood splattered the grimy walls of the elevator. 
 
 He felt something wet on his face. Probably blood. Piercing screams filled the small space-turned-a-Gladiator-arena. And then an impenetrable darkness cloaked him. 
 
 When he came to, his eyes slowly focusing on the growing wet spot on his crotch, he realized he had passed out and was now surrounded by blood and the disfigured corpses of his rivals. 
 
 He was never much of a doer, really. 

