I spent a few hours examining my room. After all, none of these people seemed to be particularly helpful, so why should I bother?

The bedroom was just as overtly fancy as the ballroom had been; queen sized bed, white dresser and all. My clothes were already placed in the drawers, but I couldn't find any of my other belongings.

After about an hour or so of this, I was interrupted from my thoughts by a knock on the door. I fiddled with the lock a bit and opened the door to find Kicks standing right outside of my room.

"The rest of us were checking out the rest of the mansion," he explained. "Digby wanted us to meet up and talk about what we found."

So, Digby was the one taking charge, then? Not that I was complaining.

"Well, if we're all here, we may as well figure out what we've found."

"There's not really much to say about the rooms," I commented. "I found clothes in there but there's not really anything else."

"I think the rooms may be soundproof as well," said Kicks. "K.K. and I tried to contact each other between the rooms and couldn't hear a thing."

"Anyone else have anything to report?"

"The stairways are blocked," muttered Cyrus. "Couldn't get through the bars."

"The windows and doors are similarly barricaded," confirmed Copper.

"So we really are locked in…" said Katie.

"And we're only limited to this floor," mentioned Harriet. "Our captor's base is probably up there, so to speak."

"Did anyone else find anything?" I asked.

"We have a laundry room," mentioned Reese. "So at least we have something."

"I checked out the kitchen!" said Isabelle. "Nothing but a fully stocked fridge and a ton of knifes!"

"A lot of knifes, huh."

"Yeah."

"…Shouldn't we do something about that?"

Digby sighed.

"I'm afraid we may have to work on the honors system for now. The knifes may be of use when it comes to cooking, and besides, there's no guarantee that any of us will actually attempt murder."

There was that subject again. Murder. Our only ticket out of here, apparently. But nobody here would be depraved enough to actually commit it, right?

Given that, we went to our separate rooms in silence.

Nobody was in the main hallway when I woke up the next day. I ended up loitering around there for a bit before grabbing something to eat from the kitchens in silence.

Well, if nobody was going to see me, I was going to have to come to them then, wasn't I?

I found Harriet near one of the windows in the hallway, presumably looking for a weakness in the metal covering.

"I can't find anything. It looks like we really are trapped, sugar."

She seems pretty perturbed. Should I try talking to her?

"I was going to get lunch. Want to join me?"

"It would be nice to think about something other than escaping for awhile."

We spent some time talking together. I guess we got a little closer.

"It's funny how you came to me, actually. I was just about to look for you myself."

"Huh."

"I noticed that you seemed a little upset back when this mess started, so I figured this would cheer you up."

Grinning madly and obviously quite proud of herself, she shoved a slip of paper in my hand.

"Well, go on. Open it!"

I looked down at the paper in my palm. It was obviously the same one that was in the envelope in the ballroom.

But where the paper had been blank, she had scribbled "Socialite".

"…Well, what do you know."

"What can I say? I'm good at reading people. Comes with the job."

"I thought you were a hairstylist. What does that have to do with reading people?"

"It does. I run a salon in the city. Shampoodle? Maybe you've heard of it."

"Sorry. I'm from Animal Forest, myself, so I don't hear much about those areas."

"No worries. Well, my technique is based around the idea that people should look as beautiful on the outside as they do on the inside."

"…I don't follow."

"It's pretty simple, actually. I ask customers a few questions about themselves, and base the cut and style around their answers!"

Talk about unorthodox…

"It's been quite successful, actually. My work's been quite the talk of the town, if you don't mind my bragging."

"Well, I've been working on this new machine of mine that can do all the styling itself."

"Like a robot?"

"Sort of. It still needs my input. Trust me, it'll revolutionize the industry!"

I still had no idea what she was talking about, but at least she was enthusiastic about it.

"Well, I should get back on track. It was nice talking to you, though!"

I guess that was informative…

Reese turned out to be in the kitchen, holding a large coffee pot.

"I found a coffee machine hidden in the cabinet. Want some?"

Do I really want to spend time with Reese? This'll take awhile…

"…Why not?"

I discussed some of the other residents with Reese over coffee. I guess we got a little closer.

"I'll be honest…" she commented.

"What?"

"I never thought that I would be put in a situation like this… With so many great people…"

"Well, you're the Saleswoman, apparently. Have you been at that long?"

"I went to business school, at the very least."

"Then shouldn't you be here as the Businesswoman?"

"Well, it's funny where vegetables will get you."

"Don't be coy."

"Humor me. What vegetable business have I gotten myself into?"

I was never really interested in this stuff… What was it again?

"…Tomato?"

"That's a fruit."

Ugh… Guess I got it wrong…

"…Parsnips?"

"Points for trying, but no."

…I guess I was wrong then…

"…Turnips?"

"That's right. I got caught up in the stalk market. I met one of the main sellers and she helped me get started off."

"…But you're not the Stalkbroker, either."

"…I didn't want to make that my life. Giving back… it's important to me."

"I don't follow."

"I actually work at a retail store and work with the stalk market as a side business."

"I still don't see how that's giving back."

"It's non-profit. Everything that gets sold goes to the original owner."

She smiled.

"I think it's my duty, in a way. It helps people get out of hard times."

She got up and went for the exit of the ballroom.

"Think about it."

She's nice enough, even if I don't understand her business model…

The next day, I found myself in the ballroom again surrounded by everyone else.

"I don't get it," muttered Digby. "I've examined all the possible routes. Nobody has any connection whatsoever. No similar hometowns, no previously existing relationships besides Isabelle and myself, nothing!"

"Perhaps it's random," suggested Rover. "Doesn't that form the idea of chaos?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" asked Celeste.

"Panic. If violence is what this person wants, then confusion is the best way to do so."

"That does make sense, yes…" commented Tom.

"Still doesn't tell us why," spat Cyrus.

"I think it's the panic idea again. They made it sound like an experiment before, so they're obviously waiting for a reaction," commented Harriet.

"So we shouldn't do anything," I said. "We don't give them what they want, and the police have to come for us eventually, right?"

In the back of the room Copper clearly swelled with pride.

"But still," said Digby. "We can't get out."

"So what should we do?" questioned Katie.

He paused, taking some time to examine the faces of everyone present in the room.

"We'll just have to live," he said. "Make a life here for the time being and hope that nobody is desperate enough to try to escape."

14 INDIVIDUALS REMAIN

And that's an example of how Free Times work. There will be another chapter in a week, so in the meantime vote in the poll for who the next chapter will focus on.