Glass cage of emotions

You managed to stop yourself just in time. In front of you stands a floor to ceiling glass wall, still clean and pristine centuries after any man forgot about it. Observing, forms a square. Deflated, colourful sacks of fabric, their bean-like innards spilled on to the floor, lingers around it. When you try real hard, you can almost imagine the community using this as an area to socialize in. Talking about what's new with you and, no, I will not join your fantasy football league, Tim, stop pestering me. Hey, Claire, how's your creepy coffee project going? A watering hole.

And right in the middle: Town hall. Or someone made a 1:1 scale replica of one, inside an aquarium... Because it's a square glass cage. Wait, how do you know what an aquarium is? You have no idea. Sometimes you get these thoughts and don't think about it too hard. Last time you did that, your nose and ears started bleeding. Better not to.

A long, polished desk, fancy chairs along each side, all converging towards a living display of black ants fighting white ants, hanging on the far end. Either hanging or literally floating mid air. It's hard to see since the glass cage is so crystal clear. A painful image of smashed glass invades your thoughts, shards digging themselves into your bare feet, slipping as you're unable to get a grip and pull them out.

Wait... where's your shoes? Sigh, really!?

Oh, and there's a goopy thing floating inside a jar on the middle of said desk.

"Why's there, like, a brain in a jar?" Emalie asks.

Horrified, you turn to her and mouth, "Christ, Em. You can't go around saying that. Not okay. Brains have feelings."

Em mouths, "What?" Which works much better, being a single word, rather than an entire sentence.

Shocked, Em half shouts, "Woah! What is that!" Enthralled by the sight of an ant battle. "Looks like... someone stuffed a bunch of gravel and snow in a tumbler and turned it on. I... It's so boring, but I can't look away."

"I know. Look at it go." You add, completely enthralled, "I thought it was two colonies of ants, but I kinda see the gravel and snow thing now."

"The noise is coming from in there," Emalie cups her hand against the glass and presses her ear up. "Yep, like, totally coming from there. Must be loud if we heard it from base camp."

Carefully, you give the glass cage a pat down till you find something reminiscent of a door. Really, though, it's just a handle in the wall.

As you open it, you squeak in surprise.

Emalie runs over to you. "Shiva! Are you--" and stops when she sees the same thing you are.

When looking through the open door, the Town Hall is a complete mess. Notes strewn everywhere, chairs overturned, the black mirror a large crack creeping across. Despite the damage done on the mirror, it's still hissing the same ant battle you saw from outside. Right, and, the goopey thing in the jar isn't neatly suspended in whatever liquid holds it. Rather, several wires run from it and down into a hole beneath as it floats upwards, bounces of the top, is pushed back a little, then floating back up. Every time it hits the top a tiny bump can be heard.

Wasting no time, Emalie sets upon the cracked mirror. Running her hand long its edges, most likely trying to figure our how to loosen it.

You decide to inspect the notes. You also pocket a free pen. Not quite able to discern why, pocketing it fills you with a smug sense of vindication. It takes you actual effort to not stuff your suit full of stolen pens. They're not really anything special. A faded logo on the side - you can't quite make out - and some text spelling, Pleasure Tech and, in a smaller font below, Together we got this!

Bump.

The goopey thing has made another attempt at escaping and bounces back down, distracting from daydreaming about a house made of pens.

You wouldn't blame anyone if they mistook it for a brain. It almost looks like one. Almost. Especially now that the glass cage deception reveals that it isn't as smooth as you'd have thought. Not only does it have that classic sponge-spaghetti look. It also has that brain stem nerve root thing going on. Also, a third half. This is what your group must look like when Mute isn't there. You mushed in-between Emalie and Jorrel, creating this off-putting unnaturalness in a fundamental order.

Emalie jumps back with a yelp as sparks fly from the black mirror. Outside the class-cage overhead lights flicker to life. Both above and below you, running along the edge of the glass cage, lights - you can only describe as mild and smooth - gently powers on.

Then the most awful thing you've ever heard in your life. A musical piece only five notes long. Duh, duh, de, deee, du. Pause. Duh, duh, deee, deeeiii, du. Pause. Repeat. Pause. Repeat. Judging by the look on Emalie's face, she's getting that same urge as you: Attempting awkward small talk to fill the silence and drown out that awful noise.

Thankfully, someone else beats you to the punch!

A cheery voice from the mirror says, "Hi, I'm Rolph! How may I assist you today!"