The ice finally calmed down, leaving an arcade cabinet. Red stared at it, dumbfounded. It looked like that silly rhythm game his autistic, transgender niece was obsessed with. He had stopped the mantra, but it seemed like the reactor had taken on a life of its own. It wanted something from him. It wanted him to play the game.
He approached the machine cautiously. The ice was easy to walk on. It felt like concrete under his shoes and made crunching sounds as he stepped on it. A trail of white footprints was left behind where his weight had crushed the ice into a powder.
As he neared the machine, he saw that it had a visual display. It was backlit by a light affixed to the wall of the lab, and some strange contortion of ice crystals embedded in its glassy surface was refracting the light to provide color and contrast.
A song was already selected–it was some electronic garbage with heavy synthesizer use and one of those distorted basslines that sounded like flatulence mixed with static electricity. The song was called “Nuclear Meltdown.” Whatever entity was in command of the situation, it certainly had a sense of humor.
“Well then,” said Red. “Let’s dance.”