Chapter 3 — The Announcement
Andrew lay awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling as the hours dragged by. He watched the clock on his bedside table tick away the hours. At six, he gave up and got out of bed. He felt like a trainwreck. In a daze, he headed over to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, Andrew flicked on the harsh fluorescent light. The mirror greeted him with the reflection he dreaded. Shadows pooled beneath his eyes, his hair was messy and unkempt, and his shirt was soaked with sweat. He splashed his face, trying to wash it all away.
After completely failing to improve his appearance, Andrew headed to the kitchen, deposited his now cold pasta, and made himself some toast. As he waited for the bread to pop up, he thought about what he had heard on TV. The Ordeals. A game where he had a one‑in‑eight chance of starting anew.
A bing! sound interrupted his thoughts. His toast was done. He grabbed it and bolted to his room, heading straight for his computer. He had to check social media. The homepage showed him what he expected to see:
“Trending in Australia: #theordeals”
Andrew clicked on the hashtag. He wanted to see what people were saying about the game. He read some of the tweets that appeared on his screen:
@thecrazyone: Wellington just announced a game show where suicidal people kill each other for money #theordeals #wtf #godsaveaustralia
@cooper5: Not sure how to feel about the prime minister's announcement. Fighting suicide is good, but is this the right way? #theordeals
@maslov1971: Australia just announced a game show that will end in bloodshed for most participants. This is insane! #theordeals #resist #thisisnotokay
@stephan502: Australia is going to have a real‑life Hunger Games! How cool is that? I wish Europe had something like this! #theordeals #signmeup
The internet buzzed with speculation. The announcement had been very vague, so people filled in the blanks with their own imagination. Only two more hours until the next broadcast where the details would be revealed.
In anticipation, Andrew counted down the hours.
“Welcome to a special edition of Channel One news. In this broadcast, Prime Minister Wellington will give more details about The Ordeals. Let's go straight to Mike Wellington, live from the Canberra congress hall.”
Fixated on the TV, Andrew felt his pulse quicken. Every second leading up to the broadcast, he'd imagined what would happen if he joined the contest. Now, it was time for the great reveal.
The camera panned to Wellington at a lectern. He cleared his throat and began to speak.
“Good morning Australia. Yesterday evening I announced The Ordeals, a contest we plan to hold later this year. We noticed that it has sparked quite some debate. Today, I want to answer some questions you may have and explain why we think this game is our best chance to overcome our mental health crisis.”
“But, before I do that, let me tell you something personal. Some of you may know that I had a difficult childhood. My mother died when I was five years old, and my father was a chronic alcoholic. I often hid in my room and watched movies to escape from my reality. For a while, I could forget about the misery around me. But unavoidably, I would have to face reality again.”
“To a certain degree, I was lucky. I had a way to escape. Many people who struggle with mental health problems have no such option. Every day feels like a nightmare. And it's extremely difficult to get out of such a situation.”
“People with depression often see the world in a negative light. Death seems more appealing than anything life has to offer. Nothing can spark the joy that they once felt. But when death is near, something changes. We get a rush of adrenaline. We see things more clearly. That is the core idea behind The Ordeals.”
“The contest features cinematic scenarios that make the contestants feel like they are in a different reality. They will become the hero of their own story. They will forget their troubles and feel alive again. If they die, they will do so in a moment of excitement.”
It was as if Wellington was speaking directly to Andrew. The words resonated within him. Becoming the hero of his own story.
Andrew shook his head. How the hell was he falling for Wellington's bullshit? Why was he even listening to this?
Wellington continued, his voice carrying through the TV speakers: “Of course, we don't want to cause unnecessary harm or suffering. That's why we have strict criteria for participation. They make sure that only people who are in extreme pain can participate. We also ensure that all deaths in the contest will be painless. This way, we don't cause unnecessary deaths or physical agony.”
“The main goal of ‘The Ordeals’ is to raise money and awareness for suicide prevention. We expect the game to draw a lot of attention from around the world. The sixteen contestants will help thousands of others. Those who die will be honored as heroes. Those who survive will become famous for their courage in the game.”
Andrew felt a surge of adrenaline as he watched the TV. He knew it wasn't healthy for him to watch this, but he couldn't look away.
“The Ordeals consists of three games. Each one portrays a cinematic scenario in which our contestants will be the heroes of their stories. As for the deadly nature of the contest, only half of the contestants can make it through each ordeal. We start with sixteen contestants, and two will be left after the final challenge. Everything will be broadcasted on live television, but also tickets will be sold to attend it in person.”
“Only Australian citizens with a history of severe mental health issues are eligible to join. Registrants must provide a reference from a valid authority that confirms their mental health issues have persisted for at least one year. We will strictly screen all registrations to verify that they meet the requirements.”
“We've set up a website at theordeals.gov.au with a form for registration. The registration deadline is the 15th of March at midnight, exactly one month from now. After that time, a team of professional psychologists will go through all registrations and sort them based on the situation of the registrant. Our team will make sure all background checks are performed to ensure the registrant is eligible. Only the top sixteen contestants will be allowed to enter. Even when someone is picked, they can still withdraw at any moment till the start of the first ordeal. The event will be canceled if there are less than sixteen eligible contestants.”
“That's all I have to say for now. I'll take a few questions from the press.”
The camera zoomed in on the crowd of reporters surrounding Wellington. They all raised their hands and shouted. Wellington pointed to one of them.
“Prime Minister Wellington, thank you for your speech,” the reporter said. “I still have serious ethical concerns about our government facilitating a contest in which most contestants will die. Why, in your eyes, is this an ethical thing to do?”
“Thank you for your question,” Wellington said. “Whether someone should have control over their own life is a heavily debated subject. Too many people choose the road of suicide every year, often in ways that lead to extreme physical pain. As explained, ‘The Ordeals' is our attempt to remove this pain by creating a surreal and exciting environment. I would like to stress that only people suffering from an incurable mental illness can join. Our projections show that this contest will lower suicide rates across the country. We aim to save lives, but we know that sacrifices must be made to achieve that.”
As soon as Wellington finished his answer, the reporters erupted into a frenzy of questions. Wellington pointed at another reporter.
“Prime Minister Wellington, thank you for your speech. If the event is a success, do you plan to make it a regular occurrence?”
“The Ordeals is an experimental project,” Wellington said. “We expect the contest to generate significant revenue, which we can use to improve the mental health situation for many years to come. After this contest, we will evaluate its results before making new plans.”
“One last question,” Wellington said, scanning the crowd. He pointed to another reporter.
“Thank you for your speech, Prime Minister Wellington. Given the controversial nature of this event, how do you expect other countries to react? What will you do if they oppose it or try to intervene?”
“That's a good question,” Wellington said. “I have already contacted the leaders of other major countries and explained our rationale. So far, there has been no serious opposition. Of course, if there is any diplomatic tension or conflict over this event, we will handle it accordingly. We are not looking for a war. If that's the only option, we will cancel the event.”
“That's all for today. Thank you for your attention and support. We will keep you informed.”
Wellington stepped away from the lectern and the screen switched back to the news studio.
Andrew turned off his TV. He needed some time to think. He didn't buy most of the things the prime minister had said. Politicians are just like salesmen: they know how to make arguments sound convincing and manipulate a crowd. This was nothing but a death show for people's entertainment. Someone had to be putting a stop to this event. It just couldn't exist.
Andrew wondered if his immediate rejection was driven more by fear or anger. A fear that he might be tempted to join the event.
He swallowed hard. He probably could qualify if he applied.
But did he dare?
*knock knock knock*
“Come in!” Andrew shouted from his desk. He had been glued to his computer all afternoon, following the online buzz about The Ordeals. Steven opened the door, holding a plate of rice and veggies.
“Thanks,” Andrew said, getting up from his desk and taking the plate from Steven. Steven smiled and handed it over.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” Steven said, sounding nervous. “Is this a good time?”
“Sure,” Andrew said.
“Have you seen the news lately?”
“Yeah, I've seen the prime minister's proposal,” said Andrew. “The whole internet is going wild about it.”
“So, ehhh,” Steven stammered. “Since the announcement yesterday, Marge and I were concerned you would take these matters too seriously. I promised I wouldn't act overprotective, but it would be nice if you could relieve some of our nerves.”
“I'm not planning to join,” Andrew said. “It's an absurd event for a government to organize. I was just taken aback by it, that's all. Do you think the government can get away with this?”
“I don't know,” Steven said. “I sure regret voting for that psychopath.”
“Yeah, you're not the only one with that opinion. The whole internet is full of it. I'm curious whether a coup might happen sometime soon.”
“Anyway,” Steven said with a sigh. “Just remember that Marge and I love you and we want you to be well. If there is anything we can do to help you, please tell us and we'll be there for you. Now go eat your dinner before it gets cold.”
The door clicked shut, leaving Andrew alone in the dim light of his room. He exhaled shakily, the weight of the conversation pressing on his chest. He didn't want to lie to Steven, but there was no way Andrew could admit that the announcement had stirred something in him.
His gaze drifted to the computer screen, the cursor blinking beside the web address he'd typed earlier: theordeals.gov.au.
Andrew's fingers hovered over the keyboard.
He looked down at the untouched plate of food, then back at the screen.
“Why does this captivate me so much?” he whispered.
The room offered no answers.