Frantically you search through your possessions, but nothing you have even vaguely resembles a card that would fit into such a slot.

"sixteen seconds to terminal action!"

You take a look at the door, but see absolutely no way to open it.

"fifteen seconds to terminal action!"

the handle is as firmly stuck as a football fan in the pub on a Saturday afternoon, and you can't even get a finger into the slot.

"fourteen seconds to terminal action!"

Sticking your fingers in your ears, you turn and begin legging it blindly back in the direction of the boxing ring.

"Thirteen seconds to terminal action!"

Undoubtedly your feet are making quite a noise on the metallic floors, but betweene the horrific waling of the Klaxon and the booming basso diabolico of the voice you can barely feel the vibrations of your footsteps, let alone here them.

"10 seconds to terminal action!"

You put on a spert, but it seems with every announcement the voice is getting louder and louder! it began at your average brain busting carhorn in the ear volume, but now it's past through explosion, volcano and rock concert levels and soon will be approaching the truly eardrumb exploding proportions only normally experienced in the most brainless and drunken of nightclubs.

"eight seconds to terminal action!"

eyes streaming, legs wobbling you stagger onwards, fingers stil in your ears.

"five seconds to terminal action!"

You think you see the light of the boxing ring ahead, but when you charge at it you find yourself striking your head against the metal wall somewhere near one of the stil glowing orange arclights, clearly you've become disorientated as well as near half deaffened.

"three seconds to terminal action!"

It's at this point that your knees actually give way and you find yourself lying in a crumpled heap on the metal floor as the waves of hiddious sound roll and crash over you.

"two seconds to terminal action!"

You close your eyes wearily, thinking that dying would probably be a releaf.

"one second to terminal action! ------ zero!"

Abruptly, the sound stops. you wait breathlessly for a few heartbeats, wondering if your about to be fried, stabbed, crushed or otherwise desposed of, but nothing continues to happen.

Cautiously, you unstick your thumbs from your ears (something that requires a surprising amount of effort), and rub your eyes. looking around you see nothing but the orange lights of the corridor stretching away in both directions like sign posts on the way to a very unpleasant destination (probably a railway station).

Nervously you stand up, feeling every joint and muscle throbbing after the sonic battering. Then suddenly you are knocked to the ground again by a barrage of solid, horrific sound so loud and deep that it hits you like a wall.

just before your skull cracks like an egg under a bulldoser, you have time to here the words:

"you are my sun shine, my only sun shine, you make me happy when skies are grey!"

well I don't know about taking sunshine away, but sadly this wrendition of the old song, 8 octives below middle C sung at a volume of septuple forte has taken your life away.

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