The djinn lived in Kari's chest, deep among the ribs. After the events that led to Kari being sent to this tower, they had sworn a vow of silence so the djinn might never escape by riding on their words. Everybody here deserved to and should have been hoping to die. It irritated Kari that Haralda and Beck felt differently.

When the time came, Kari would tell the group why they were here.

Presently, the stench was unbearable. Acid burnt the back of Kari's throat, and the familiar taste of bile encased their tongue. While Beck and the punk were riling each other up, somebody placed a hand on Kari's shoulder — right on top of a burn mark, too — and they looked up to see the old man who wore a fur coat over his bare chest. There was an odd expression on his face. Kari had never seen anyone look concerned before.

He said, "Hello there, little one, my name's Tarquin, are you okay there? Would you like some water?"

BEGONE, whispered the djinn. Kari bit down on their lip and shook their head before ducking around Tarquin to stand at podium number nine next to Haralda, who was continuously updating a leaderboard for the swear box. Kari just wanted not to exist, why couldn't anyone here respect that?

"Aww, he's a shy one, isn't he?" said Tarquin, raising his voice above the argument.

"All I'm saying is, Becky boy," said Connie, jamming her tattooed finger into Beck's face, "There's nothing interesting about just shooting down a bird. Look at Faust, he doesn't know if he'll ever regain sight in that eye, and Tarquin lost his summerhouse! You just haven't suffered like we have!"

"My life has been a neverending procession of suffering," added Faust. "And today is the icing on the shit cake."

"Girlie," said Beck, "You don’t know sweet dick about how close things got for us. If you really can't get your dumbass head around it, I'd be happy to hold it under a bucket of water so you can see what it was like."

"Um, excuse me?" called the man from up the stairs. "We did say we were here, but you just ignored us and started an argument."

"Are you actually trying to start shit with me? Me?" said Connie, shadow boxing in front of Beck. "Man, you wouldn't go two rounds."

"Connie," said Tarquin, "I think we should listen to the reasonable gentleman around the corner, don't you? Weren't you just saying we needed to act quickly?"

"He's right, of course," said Haralda. "I will not tolerate any further disruptions, Beck. You're already £15 down."

Beck smirked. "Alright, alright, cool it. Just trying to be interesting, right, Connie?"

"We're just taking certain precautions." Connie shrugged.

The upstairs man walked downstairs, revealing himself to be a priest, and alongside him came a woman who looked like she'd always been an aunt.

"Oh, Eirlys, how wrong you were," muttered the priest, covering his nose with his robe. "Good evening, brothers and sisters. I propose that we get straight to testing the democracy of reality."

"Let's all have a spa day and get squeaky clean! I love the music in those places," said the fat aunt, taking her place at the podium named Greer.

The fifth podium lay absent.

Faust stepped back from his screen to look at the group.

He said, "Wait, can we rewind just a tad? What was it you both meant by being interesting and taking precautions? Why did everyone just nod at that?"

"Oh my GOD," exploded Connie. "We got you up to speed, you fucking snail! Which bit still don't you understand?"

"...The bit about being interesting and taking precautions."

"If you want to live, be iiiiiinteeeereeeestiiiing," sang Greer.

"Oh," said Faust. "Oh. THAT bit about being interesting and taking precautions. Excuse me for an instant."

Faust walked over to Tarquin, and gently prised the axe out of his hands. Then he raised it skyward before bringing it down onto his own skull — or attempting to, anyway. Tarquin caught his arm before he could finish the blow. The two were locked in a brief struggle until Connie came to wrest it away.

"Faust, what's come over you?" said Tarquin. "Are you quite alright?"

Tears streamed down Faust's cheeks. "I'm cursed, I say, cursed! Inevitable death once a counter hits a number — sure, sign me up, the time comes for us all, who gives a fuck — but rejection by an audience? I'm a less likable person than that fucking ostrich, so give that back and let me off myself! Nobody's going to break my heart but me!"

"There, there," said Tarquin, hugging him tight. "Shhhh, shhhhh..."

Beck whistled. "Wowee, what a freak show. Where the hell did they get these people?"

"No, Beck!" snapped Haralda. "And Constance, I will not permit any more retorts. I'm stepping up as leader here, because none of you seem to have any respect for the democratic process — apart from of course, Saheel and Greer. Thank you for being so patient. Might I ask where the third member of your team is?"

The pair hung their heads and studied their feet.

"She's... well, she..." said Saheel.

"I'm terribly sorry," said Tarquin. "Goodness, we've been awfully insensitive, haven't we?"

"Please," said Saheel, "Let's just get on with a vote. Perhaps a motion like 'Return everyone to a state of cleanliness'."

"Spa day, spa day," crowed Greer.

"An excellent and productive suggestion," said Haralda, raising her pen. "All those in favour of the motion 'Return everyone to a state of cleanliness?"

Everybody's thumb suddenly emitted a bright amber light.

DENY THEM, whispered the Djinn.

Straining under the effort, Kari twisted their hand until their thumb was pointing up and began to shine green — the others did the same. A count popped up on Kari's screen:

8 👍 1 👎 — INSUFFICIENT MAJORITY

"That's impossible," said Saheel. "Could she be..."

"I saw everyone vote yes," said Beck, resting his gun over his shoulder. "What the fuck is your team playing at? What are you not telling us?"

Greer fished her phone out of her pocket and yelped.

"Jumping giggerybirds!" she cried. "I've got fifteen missed calls from Eirlys!"

Only Kari noticed the number tick over to 9000 and turn red.