A Fun Little Game

The silence started to get on Andrew’s nerves. Ten people, all sitting in a room, and nothing to talk about? Not even basic pleasantries. He could tell his incessant fidgeting was starting to annoy those around him, as he caught a few glares from over the top of the cubicles. He was desperate for something, anything to break the frustration of the silence.

He didn’t need to wait much longer, as an indignant shout of “Oh come on!” echoed around the room. An observer escorted a young man in cargo shorts and a tropical shirt from his cubicle.

Andrew heard him mumbling. “Lemme get another chance, will ya? I was just looking at something, honest. C’mon, don’t be like that, I won’t tell. Here-.” He tried to shove a wad of cash in the observer’s hand, but they ignored him. As the door closed behind him, the young man shouted, “Whatever, this game is stupid!”

The rules, of course, were simple. Andrew had skimmed over them before agreeing to take part. Each participant would be given a cubicle. That was their station. Participants were to sit at their station for four hours. They were to bring nothing with them, not even a phone; items for writing and drawing would be provided upon request. They could stand and stretch, talk to each other if they wished, but they could not leave their station. Most importantly, they were not permitted under any circumstances to eat or touch the slice of chocolate cake stationed in their cubicle. The slice of cake should be completely untouched by the end of the four hours. Anyone who broke this last rule would be disqualified and escorted out of the game by one of the observers. A pot of one million dollars would be split amongst the winners at the end of the four hours or given to the last person remaining if everyone else had been eliminated. Andrew thought this game was peculiar, and if not for that final bit, most likely wouldn’t have even bothered to participate.

As it was, he was unsure why he of all people was selected to be one of the ten people in the game. He had only just started working for the company and knew just the few people in his department. Some of the other people, he assumed, were much more important than he was. The only two people in this room younger than Andrew were the interns. He didn’t know if they were interns, but he had seen them frantically running errands around the building, so he found it safe to assume. Their eyes darted nervously around the room, and they appeared to shrink in their chairs. There was another younger man dressed in full business attire, tapping at a Bluetooth earpiece. He grumbled about the lack of signal in the room and that he had to leave his phone outside. A mother watched her child, a boy of no more than five, drawing on the paper he had been provided. Although, now that Andrew was paying closer attention, the mother’s gaze was more closely and discreetly turned towards an older gentleman. He had several glittering watches on his left wrist, each one Andrew estimated was worth more than he made in a year. Another businessman, older than the first but younger than the gentleman, had started to make small talk with the interns. In the corner, a woman in stilettos loudly clicked the gum in her mouth and stared at the older businessman.

The kid had already reached for the cake once, only to be scolded by his mother. “Hey, Mommy said no cake for you in here. This cake is only for adults.” Seemingly satisfied with that logic, the kid went back to coloring and never bothered with the cake since.

“How are you kids liking the company so far?” The older businessman leaned in closer to the interns. “They give you enough food and water out there?” He laughed, his breath catching on the honey in his throat. The interns exchanged side glances before one of them nodded timidly. The older businessman laughed again, louder and wetter. “You know, it’s ok to speak your mind in here.” He clapped the male intern on the shoulder. “Lighten up, kiddos!” The intern winced as a small smile forced its way out.

Another half hour passed without incident. At this point, however, the younger businessman stood up and marched over to an observer.

“This is all ridiculous, I’ll have you know.”

“Please return to your station, Mr. Randall. You will be disqualified.”

He scoffed in the observer’s face. “You’re not the boss here. I bet you don’t even know who I am. I worked for the CEO for years. I should be getting this piece of his fortune. There’s no need for the rest of these-,” he gestured to the room, “to be here.”

The observer opened the door. “You have been disqualified. Please exit the game room.”

The young businessman stood open-mouthed for a second, like he was thinking of a retort. He resigned to close his mouth but shouted back in the door, “I make more than this in a month! Enjoy your table scraps!”

“He seemed a bit of a nuisance, don’t you think?” The older businessman drew his chair closer to the interns as he spoke, eyes glistening. “Now, with him out of the way, how about you two and I make a deal?” He wiped the brow of his forehead with a cloth. “I know you kids are really in it for the money. After all, you’re young and probably wouldn’t mind a cool hundred plus grand to go towards your colleges.” He licked his lips and leaned in closer. “But what if I told you, I could make you even richer?” The interns’ eyes widened. “All you gotta do is, take your slice of cake with you on the way out. I promise you; I’ll pay you two hundred grand each when I win the whole pot. Pretty simple, right?” The woman in the stilettos snorted. The older businessman waved her off. “I know what you’re thinking: ‘But what if I win and no one’s left?’ Now, do you really think that old CEO’s gonna give a million bucks to a couple of interns?”

The pair turned away. Andrew couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it sounded like they were debating each other intensely. After about five minutes, the older businessman interjected again.

“Now, you can trust me certainly. You can have your cake and eat it too. Do we have a deal?” The older businessman pulled the interns in closer around their cubicles. They sheepishly grabbed their slices of cake and hurried to the door. The older businessman laughed. “That’s how it’s done!”

“You two will be disqualified. Are you sure?” The interns didn’t answer, but waited for the observer to open the door. As they turned to leave, the woman in the stilettos called out:

“Hey, you two.” She was standing at the older businessman’s cubicle. She reached in, took his slice, and threw it on the floor. He began sputtering and cursing at her. She smirked, waltzed over to her own slice, and picked it up. “C’mon, I’ll treat you both to lunch. And I’ll give you some real advice.” She joined the wide-eyed interns at the door.

“Mr. Calhoun, you’re also disqualified.” Another observer went over to the older businessman. He stood, too much in shock to protest.

The man with the wristwatches chuckled as all the observers went to escort them out of the room. When they didn’t return immediately, the gentleman looked around the room before coming back to Andrew and the mother.

“Well, well, well. I’ve been friends with Benedict for many years now, and this game is just typical of him.” He shook his head and smiled. “Why, when we were boys, he did something just like this to a group of schoolkids. Of course, there was no prize at the end back then. All the kids just sat and waited nicely.” After looking around to make sure the room was still empty, he continued. “Aren’t you all a bit curious?”

“About what?” Andrew asked cautiously.

“Well, what kind of cake must he have brought in to be worth such a prize? Have you taken a closer look at it?” Andrew glanced at the gentleman with apprehension. “Go ahead, there’s no one here but me, and I certainly won’t tell. After all, it’d be two against one.”

Andrew leaned in closer to the cake sitting at his cubicle. There were intricate gold swirls along the top, and the sided were coated in an alluring layer of ganache and cocoa powder. Mousse swirls adorned the edges. Three layers of rich-looking dark chocolate cake were separated by a different color of filling between each layer. The smell almost overwhelmed Andrew. Not too sweet, not too bitter. Andrew blinked, snapping his head away. The mother was still entranced by the cake, so Andrew cleared his throat at her. She quickly looked up and wiped at the corner of her mouth, eyes darting in mild embarrassment.

“So then, how about we play a game of our own?” The gentleman’s voice curled around them. “There’s six slices left, and only three of us. What if we just took a bite of ours and switched the plates? No one would be any the wiser. I’m sure Benedict himself would be proud of our clever plan.”

The mother laughed in his face. “Do you think I’m stupid or something?”

“No, but you’re interested.”

“You’re just using us to experiment. There’s no harm for you if we get caught.”

He nodded. “Perhaps. But, if it will make you feel better, I’ll eat it with you.”

“They’ll notice something.” Her voice wavered.

“Not if we’re clever about it. A thin scoop along the side or front, and it looks no different than the other slices.”

The mother thought for a minute. The boy came up to her, waving a drawing in his hand.

“Mommy, Mommy, look!”

She barely glanced over before dismissing him. “That’s nice, sweetheart, now let Mommy think.”

“Consider this: If all three of us do get disqualified at once, we’ll still win. The rules clearly state that the money gets distributed among the last remaining players in the event of a tie.” The gentleman sat down in front of his cubicle.

After a moment, the mother sat down at hers. She pointed at Andrew, and then at his cubicle expectantly. He was tempted, but as the mother stared daggers at him, he was finally convinced.

“One,” the gentleman began.

“Two.”

“Three.”

The old gentleman was right. It was absolutely the best thing Andrew had ever eaten. He was so wrapped up in the experience, he didn’t hear the door open, and the observers return.

“All three of you are disqualified. Please exit the game room.”

The woman laughed nervously. “We still win, though, right? We’re the last ones.”

One of the observers shook their head. “No, he wins.” They pointed at her son.

The mother laughed again. “That’s wonderful! We won, Tommy, we won!”

A loudspeaker crackled to life above them. “Congratulations, Thomas Steinbaum. You are the winner of one million dollars from the Benedict C. Arbiter Fund,” the voice in the loudspeaker croaked. “An account has been opened in your name, locked by a password that you will receive in secret on your eighteenth birthday. You will be made known of this beforehand. You are the sole owner of this money, and it may not be transferred to another account. You have final say in all things involving this account. Your mother may not take any of it from you without your express permission.”

Amid furious protests by the mother, the loudspeaker crackled again. “Come now, Mrs. Steinbaum, no need to make a fuss, surely you read the rules. It’s just a fun little game, after all.”