Rusty iron clavicles rub against your wrists. You shift the chains further up your arm and rub the scraped skin. All you can think about is *her*. Through the stone walls you can hear the roar of the crowd. Somewhere a gladiator is dying a bloody death. Someone knocks at your cell door. You turn to see the head of a centurion. He narrows his eyes as he peers at you through the bars. "Now this is a tight spot, isn't it?" he asks. "You should have known better than to be seen about town with the Emperor's daughter." You say nothing. "Ah, but I've got the skinny. I'm friends with people here." The centurion beckons you to the door. The chains hold you back an arm's length from the bars. "When you walk out, you'll be given a choice. There's two doors. Behind one is a tiger. Behind the other lies your beloved." He lowers his voice. "Now listen. The tiger is the door to the right. The one to your left holds your lover." You hear muffled voices down the hall and the rattle of chains. They're coming to bring you out. "Remember," the centurion says, "The tiger is to your right." [[arena<-Continue]]It's a cold day in Rome. You shiver under your tattered clothes as the centurions drag you into the arena. Your feet rake the dusty stone, dragging through congealed blood, feces, and other untold filth. Around you the crowd jeers, throwing rotten olives and pits. Before you, in his box, sits the Emperor of Rome, resplendent in (color: "purple")[purple] and (color: "gold")[gold]. His daughter, your beloved, is nowhere to be found. *Maybe the centurion was right.* The announcer steps to the edge of the box. "Prisoner, before you are two doors. Caesar demands that you pick the method of your punishment. Choose quickly, or you will be cut down here and now." *Pick, pick.* You approach the doors. They're so thick that no sound could possible come forth, and even if it could the roar of the crowd would drown it out. You approach the left door -- the one with your beloved -- when you stop. *Is the centurion baiting me? He told me the tiger is in the right door so that I would choose the left one. But what if it's the one on the left that holds the tiger?* You shuffle to the right door, only to stop again. *No, wait. No one could have known about my affair with the Emperor's daughter. I told no servants where I was going that night. No spies could have possibly followed me. The only one who would have known ... was her.* "Hurry!" the announcer shouts. [[right-door<-You pick the right door, the tiger.]] [[left-door<-You pick the left door, your beloved.]] [[mercy<-You beg for mercy.]] (set: $mercy to false) *I have only the centurion's word,* you think. *All else is conjecture. I'll pick what is certain to me.* You approach the right door and open it. Behind is a cool vastness. The crowd's jeers have quieted. You await the breath of the beast, the slapping of claws against stone, and a sweet pain of sharp teeth ripping into your throat. Instead, there is nothing. Caesar rises from his seat and approaches the edge of his box. "Criminal, I know your mind. You would choose death over dishonor. But I have no mercy left for you. You will be exiled to the province of Tomis for the rest of your natural life." [[exile<-Continue]]*I have only the centurion's word to rely on,* you think. *And there must be some other explanation for how the Emperor discovered our affair. I must trust in her.* You approach the left door and pull it open. Behind it is a dark hallway, cool from the shade and the stone. The crowd quiets. You hear nothing. You turn to the Emperor's box. Caesar sits, watching. You take one step inside the hallway. You don't hear the tiger as its teeth enter your throat. You are overcome with shame, but your death is thankfully quick. (display:"end")(set: $mercy to true) Only one thought enters your mind: this is a false choice. Neither door holds what you want. There's only one thing left to do. You fall to your knees. "Oh Caesar," you shout, "I am a mere dog in your presence. I am a fool! I know not what I do. Please, I beg of you, spare my life, and in return I will give you a life of complete obedience." The crowd is stilled a moment, but soon jeers. "Kill him! Kill him!" they shout, the roar growing louder. Then the Emperor rises from his seat, approaches the edge of the box, and speaks. "Mercy, criminal? You ask for *mercy*? You do not know the meaning of the word." He waves his hand to a nearby centurion. "But I will teach you mercy. You will be exiled to the province of Tomis for the rest of your natural life." [[exile<-Continue]]You sit on the rocks along the shore, casting a line into the brawling ocean. You have caught nothing today, and you resent the salted fish that will be your only meal later. A gleam catches your eye. A ship floats just over the horizon, a broad, red sail hosted above her. It approaches the shore. You watch as it comes closer, and you can see it is manned with centurions, off to fight the rebellious Egyptians in the south. One of the soldiers tosses a white bundle of cloth off the side. The ship turns away from the island as the bundle floats -- no, swims -- to shore. You climb down the rocks to collect it. It's her. "I never told," she says, gasping for air, trembling in the cold, hard air. "I wasn't there when you had to choose." (if: $mercy)["I heard you asked for my father's mercy. I could not believe that our love meant so much to you. If we have to endure this horrible place together, I'm glad to know it." She draws close to you, drawing your warmth.](else:)["I couldn't believe it when they told me you wished to end your own life. Do you trust me at all? Am I worth so little compared to your pride?" She draws away, pulling her wet clothes close to keep warm.] You look out at the sea, silent. (display:"end")==><== #The Lady or The Tiger *by Erik Gern* *adapted from the story by Frank R. Stockton* [[cell<-Begin]]=><= The End [[title<-Play Again]] <==