Duncan pointed at the only object in the room besides the box—an aged clock on the back of the door, with twelve illuminated markings around its perimeter. “The hand has moved halfway to the next point since we came in here. I’d say we’ve only been in here less than half a minute. That means we’ve got twelve minutes.”
My breaths grew shallow. “Twelve minutes? We’ve got to hurry.”
In a panic, the six of us examined the box, looking for any clue as to how it opened, hands moving everywhere over the box, prodding and pressing in frustration.
Richard thumped the box. “I’ll kick you open in a minute!”
We all went silent for a moment.
“Wait.” I listened carefully. “Do you hear it?”
“What?” Richard snapped in exasperation. “Angels singing?”
Poppy glanced at me then pressed the side of her face onto the box so hard that her cheek squashed flat like a child’s against a window pane. “It’s ticking.”
“Ticking?” The short man, Andre, wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Like a bomb?”
“How would I know?” Poppy squinted up at him with her free eye.
Pulling her away roughly, Ruth put her ear to the box and listened. “It’s a metronome. Richard’s thumping must have set it off.”
Stepping around to another section of the box, I knocked on it and listened.
A slow ticking started.
I knocked again.
The ticking sped up. Another knock and the ticking sped up yet again, the sound echoing hollowly. I moved around the box to my right, bumping into Ruth. I began knocking again, this time knocking a fourth time. The ticking went back to slow on the fourth knock.
I stood. “What if below the six triangles are six hollow compartments, each with some kind of metronome device? They seem to go faster for three knocks then go back to slow again.”
I glanced up at the clock. Eight minutes to go.
Poppy elbowed Ruth as she hurried to knock and listen to each section of the box. “Yep. Six metronomes. The pitch is different with each one.”
“Wonderful.” Duncan rubbed his eye as if he were still having trouble waking up from his sleep. “Six of those things, all running at different speeds and different pitches. We need to figure this out, people.”
“Yeah,” said Richard, raising a wry eyebrow. “That’s really gonna help us.”
“Well, they can’t be mechanical,” said Saul, breaking his silence. “They must be electronic, because they’ve got the ability to change. They’re responsive.” He shrugged. “I’m a mechanic.”
“Seven minutes, people,” called Duncan.
Ruth straightened, eyeing Duncan. “We can all see that.”
“I’m just trying to hurry it along,” Duncan offered.
“Hurry what along, exactly?” said Richard. “We don’t know what we’re doing. Until we do, shut the fuck up.”
“It’s not helpful to give me that kind of attitude,” Duncan admonished. “I’m a team leader at work, and I know how to motivate staff. I’ve got twenty people under me.”
“Well, I’ve got some unkind news for you,” said Richard. “You’re a—”
“Stop yapping!” Ruth frowned as she listened. “Some of these have the same pitch. Wait”—she moved around the box, still listening—“they’re in pairs. Every two of them have the same pitch. It’s just the speeds that are all over the place.”
“Because of our knocking,” I said quickly. “We’ve been knocking haphazardly.”
“Yes.” She nodded firmly, looking around at all of us. “Because of that.”
“Then why don’t we try getting the speeds to match with the pairs?” suggested Poppy, her voice breathy and tense.
“You got it, cupcake.” Ruth wasted no time positioning everyone. She was doing exactly as she said she would—she wasn’t going to allow anyone to get in the way of getting through a challenge, even if she had to physically move them herself.
Duncan stood back. We didn’t need seven people to do this, and he evidently believed his role was to guide us through the challenge.
“Okay, people.” Ruth inhaled sharply. “We need to get these speeds exactly the same. Three people need to listen and learn from the person on the opposite side from them.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Duncan raised his eyebrows in innocent surprise against Ruth’s glare.