3x3

By Dennis Haupt

Upon waking up in a hotel room, Q has no recollection of how he arrived there. As he investigates, he realizes that he and others are trapped in a remote structure with no means of reaching the outside world. The only contact they have is with a moderator who orchestrates games and challenges. He offers a wish granted to Q and the other particip

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dennis Haupt
• Release date: Mar 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9783969560198

Book preview

Introduction

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Hello reader,

Life is all about making choices, isn’t it?

You just made a really good one. If you’re a fan of intricate mysteries, consistent science fiction, plot-driving what-ifs, and hidden puzzles in the artwork, that is.

If you find yourself enjoying our story, consider visiting https://behindthelastgate.com and maybe https://twitter.com/TheAuthorBTLG for the latest news, updates, and occasional games.

More books like this one will be released at unpredictable intervals. We hope you can enjoy them all.

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Q – 1

Hello Quentin.

Hello recorded voice.

Quentin Garamond listened to what his phone had to say. Or rather, the mysterious person who had sent the voice message. At the very least, there should be an explanation as to why this wasn’t the room he had fallen asleep in.

Good morning and welcome to the Hotel. Your room will be unlocked at 9 a.m.

The distorted voice laid out the situation. Quentin was in one of nine rooms, each inhabited by a participant. The rooms were arranged around a central hall where participants were to meet for daily challenges.

At first, Quentin confirmed that, indeed, the door was locked. Then he let the recording loop as he searched the room for hints – anything to tell him where he was or why he was there.

You might be wondering why your room is so large. There are two reasons for this. The first is that Participants may have to wait for several days, so we provide everything you may need while you wait your turn. Food, clothes, entertainment – tailored for the individual in question. Secondly, each room may be used as a game location.

There was a window, but it was painted black on the outside and made of material that withstood multiple violent collisions with the edge of the medium-sized fridge Quentin had removed from the kitchenette and used as a battering ram. The key required to open the window was nowhere to be found.

A maximum of three games can be played every day. Three suitable game locations will be prepared for you for each game that you and the other participants can choose from. Depending on your past performance, the difficulty will be dynamically adjusted.

The door seemed to be made of a very sturdy species of wood. Quentin was able to break off a tiny corner using a sharp knife he had found on the kitchen worktop, only to reveal a further, indestructible layer below.

You will not be forced to leave your room or participate in any game. But in order to leave the building, you must do both.

Quentin checked everything three times. He was sure he hadn’t missed anything in the bathroom, the built-in kitchen, or the small storage space separated from the rest of the room by a curtain.

In each game room are hidden compartments, locked safes, and items required for the games to come. It’s unlikely you’ll find them without hints, but trying isn’t forbidden. Sabotaging a game by manipulating them, however, is.

In Quentin’s case, the only thing that didn’t serve an obvious purpose was the credit card under his pillow. All the numbers on it were nines, and the apparent owner was named, simply, Q.

Quentin had no mobile connection, but he was connected to a wireless network. Someone must have unlocked his phone with his thumb and then set up the connection, he assumed.

After each game, the winners will receive a reward: a hint that will help them. Share it or keep it, it is their choice. We will not interfere once the games begin. Once they do and you meet other participants, introduce yourself as Q. If you reveal your identity, you will be disqualified. Do not give this phone to anyone.

Quentin checked the time and paused the playback loop. It was 8:42 a.m., so he decided to spend the next eighteen minutes piecing together his last moves. He had flown to Munich. He had booked a hotel room where he was supposed to meet Dominique Makarova, a half French, half Russian woman claiming to be looking for an investor to finance a new project. She had been pretty vague about it and insisted that she could only talk about it in person, but she appeared to have had an impressive success rate – impressive enough to make Quentin agree to throw a few hundred bitcoin at it if her demo seemed promising.

If his memory was accurate, she had never arrived. He had tried to reach her, received no answer, and then just went to bed, because those twelve hours of travel had been tiring. But things already started to become fuzzy the moment he entered his room, so maybe she had come and her project was an abduction.

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A clicking noise woke Quentin from his trance. He went to the door. It still didn’t open.

Open sesame!

He held his credit card in front of what he believed to be a scanner. His suspicion was confirmed by a green light and another click. The door could be slid to the side, and doing so revealed a circular room with couches, tables, a bar counter, and TVs pretending to be aquariums. Everything was well lit. Quentin did the only reasonable thing he could think of: check for hidden items, hints, things left behind by whoever had set this place up.

Now it makes sense that my room was such an odd shape. It’s part of a ring.

Quentin had a habit of silently talking to himself in his head. There was someone living in there. Who gave responses, too. Strange? Sure. But did he need to get treatment for it? Surely not. His partner often provided valuable insight, thanks to his different viewpoints.

That was clear from the start, genius.

Quentin checked the furniture from all sides. If this was indeed a game and given how much effort must have gone into this, secret items hidden about the place wouldn’t be unlikely.

Be polite, Mr. Voice.

He checked the time – after searching the room, lifting every flowerpot, digging through the soil, turning every couch upside down before putting everything back approximately where it had been. Even at 9:30, there was no one else there. There were eight other rooms, doors all still closed.

Polite won’t help you. Smart will.

I’m rich enough to be abducted, but this setup? What’s it for? Do they want to entertain me before I’m told about the ransom I’m supposed to pay?

How about you let out the others using that card of yours? Maybe once you know who they are, you can start piecing together why you’re here.

Quentin raised an eyebrow. He went to the nearest door. There was indeed a scanner, and it recognized his card. After opening the door, he was met by a hostile stare.

What took you so long?

The slim woman in front of him looked upset, but not worried. Her room was entirely pink and little-girl themed. If she was fine, maybe all of this was just some weird prank?

I didn’t know I was supposed to unlock the door, Quentin defended himself calmly. Not that it was necessary: He was about two-and-a-half times bigger than the irritated young lady in front of him. She was wearing an elegant black dress. Quite an expensive one, Quentin could tell.

You didn’t? Her anger was gone instantly. I’m sorry, then.

She performed a curtsy.

I’m Princess. Pleased to meet you. May I know your name?

Right after she said this, she took out her phone, read a message and put it back.

Oh, I understand, commented Mr. Voice, There’s a gamemaster. She was instructed to say this.

I’m . . . Q. While I’m here, that is. Can you give me a short summary of what you’re doing here?

So efficient, she responded. I like you.

You found a friend, Mr. Voice remarked. But careful, don’t break her. She looks rather fragile.

Now, would you be so kind as to open one more door so that the games can begin? Princess asked while having a look at Quentin’s arms. And should it come to it, vote for me. I’ll vote for you. Let’s team up. With my brain and your strength, we’ll be out of here in no time!

Then she smiled playfully, making Quentin feel like his crush had finally said yes. He couldn’t help but smile back. It was out of character for him, so much so that he was confused by it. His own wife had called him heartless multiple times before asking for a divorce, and all Quentin had responded back then was Guess you’re right.

She’ll backstab you the moment it gives her an advantage, Mr. Voice commented. Don’t trust her. Don’t trust anyone here.

You’ve been here for how long? Quentin asked the woman who had passed him and immediately noticed dirt on the ground.

Three days. You’re the newest addition. Her tone had become cold as she walked through the room. You were busy, I take it? You wasted your time. The interesting stuff is always in the game room.

Quentin decided to stay silent, listen, and observe.

So, Q, let me tell you what I can, she whirled around in a dance move. Each day, three games are played. The morning, noon, and evening games. Princess counted them on her fingers. The winners of each game participate in the night event if they fulfill a secret condition. I’m not allowed to say more. Sorry.

So this is not a prank?

She threw her hands in front of her mouth, eyes wide open in surprise.

O. M. G. She spelled out each letter. You’re him!

You’re the chosen one, Quentin. Who would’ve thought? Mr. Voice could be annoying sometimes, but his out-of-the-box comments had proven valuable often enough, so he was invited to speak whenever he wished.

I’m . . . him?

You’ve been announced. The last participant. We’re complete.

Several questions had piled up by now.

The last? How did you know, if not by my name and appearance?

I really should’ve realized earlier, but I’m not the fastest in the morning, she said while throwing herself onto a couch, crossing her legs. You received no proper introduction. A handicap. We all got some hints about what this is about, but you didn’t. You’re the mystery player. She was overjoyed.

What can you tell me? What is this? A gameshow? Rich people pitting us against each other in a deadly game? An escape room? He corrected himself: "An escape house?"

Princess began to laugh in such a cute manner Quentin felt compelled to protect her.

She’s a witch. Mr. Voice’s distrust could be felt, too. Nobody can do that to you. Stay away from her.

We don’t know, she said, calming down. We checked all the rooms except yours. There’s no way to look outside. We could be anywhere. In a bunker, underwater, in space even? Or just in some house somewhere. Let me give you the tour.

She jumped out of her couch and walked over to a wall. She took out a credit card and waved it in front of a tile. It was indistinguishable from all the others, but after a bing, the ceiling opened. Both a screen and a two-meter-tall box – it resembled an elevator – were lowered.

This screen shows our scores.

There were nine rows on it, but only two were filled in. Q had zero points while Princess had collected eight. A progress bar indicated that nine were needed to finish . . . whatever was going on. Quentin walked around it, as if expecting to find something hidden in its backside.

And this box, Princess slapped against the metal, vertical-coffin-like object, is the Disqualification Exit. Also called the Suicide Box. No idea why it has two names. You can use it at any time. But given that the winner gets quite the prize, nobody wants to.

The look on Quentin’s face was enough to lead her on to the next point.

We’re not allowed to say what we get if we win. So we think there’s an individual reward for each of us. Money, medical treatment, eternal youth, choice of partner in marriage . . . The last one was clearly intended as a joke, which made Q raise an eyebrow. Eternal youth? Whatever tickles your fancy. Someone must have done their research to figure out what I want. And I really do want it. That’s why I’ll win.

She said it with such determination that Quentin suddenly felt a strong desire to help her succeed.

And I can just use it? No conditions?

Feel free to leave, Princess offered, if you’re crazy. Why would you reject . . . whatever your prize is?

Quentin entered the box. He barely fit.

I was never offered anything. How do you switch this thing on?

Your phone. Use the 3x3 app, she casually responded while moving back to her couch. But do you really want to leave already? Isn’t this exciting? Why did you come if you don’t want to win?

Without a comment, Quentin opened the app. It hadn’t been there before, he was sure of that. Most options were disabled. After selecting the Disqualification Exit option, he was asked if he was sure he wanted to leave, next if he was sure he didn’t want the agreed-upon prize, and then if he was sure he wanted to change his mind. Finally, the YES and NO buttons swapped places – and colors – after that question for a final Do you not want to abort?

Design troll, Quentin sighed and pressed the red YES button.

Final warning, a popup read. The Suicide Box cannot be opened once the process has begun. Your decision will have permanent consequences.

Quentin read the text three times.

Did anyone read the final warning?

Princess shook her head and Quentin left the box. Without explanation, he grabbed a potted palm, placed it in the box, backed out again, then confirmed his choice. Princess watched, amazed by how easily Quentin carried a tree that she wouldn’t have been able to lift at all.

You want to see what happens? You’re curious on top of strong. I like it.

The box closed, then began to emit a humming noise. Given that neither of the two could tell how long whatever was going on inside there would take, they just looked at each other for a moment.

So Q, how about you finally choose the third player for the morning game? Only the unlocked participant can do that. Rules are rules. After a moment, she added Unlocked means you were let out of your room to select the other two.

Ask her why she was expecting you, Mr. Voice cut in. We received no instruction to open her door first.

Quentin swiftly walked to the next closed door and opened it. Inside it was a man, bald, ninety at least, or so Quentin guessed. Eternal youth suddenly made sense as a prize. But was it even possible? Sure, research was being done, but the solution was supposed to be a decade away, at least. Maybe cryogenics? Quentin wasn’t up to date on that. The last breakthrough he cared about was a working fusion reactor built in Austria two years ago.

She was just mocking him when she mentioned eternal youth as a reward. Trust me. Mr. Voice was fairly certain.

The man was wearing a suit and sitting at a desk, reading a book, in what looked like the inside of a hollowed-out tree. He only took note of Quentin when he knocked against what seemed to be real wood this time. The old man put the book away then stood up and walked towards Quentin. His age didn’t seem to slow him down much.

Owen, he introduced himself. And you are?

Q.

They shook hands.

So some of us can reveal our names? Quentin asked to confirm.

Yes, yes, the rules are quite intricate. They are finely tuned to cancel out any advantage or disadvantage one might have.

Quentin glanced over to the scoreboard. Owen, if that was his real name, had reached seven points.

So a lot of thought went into the rule design?

Owen nodded. Yes, I actually think it was an AI. The number of cases that would need to have been taken into account, I can’t imagine any other method.

Hey, it stopped! Princess shouted from her couch and pointed at the Suicide Box. Owen looked surprised. Had he not heard the noise? Everyone looked as the door opened, revealing a floor covered in brown mud.

Owen was the first to have a closer look. He squatted down as if old age meant nothing to him.

Hmm, I was afraid this would happen.

What do you mean, grandpa? she asked, apparently not realizing the implications yet.

She’s polite, isn’t she? Mr. Voice really didn’t like her. Team up with the mummy instead. I’m sure he knows things others don’t. It’s his advantage. Remember what he said about the rules. We’re at a huge disadvantage because we know nothing. But you’re by far the fittest and smartest person around. So, if he’s old and frail . . .

I was thinking, Owen stood up, still looking at the remains of the plant, that someone would get curious and test this thing. And unlike me, share the outcome.

You tried it? Princess asked in disbelief. You knew and didn’t warn us?

"What do you think happens if everyone learns they can’t quit, and that it’s called Suicide Box for a reason? I didn’t want to cause any panic, plus the people who got in there after being disqualified didn’t come back like that. So, could we keep this to ourselves?"

Princess zipped her mouth shut.

What was your plan, Owen? Quentin asked, calmly. A bit too calm for his taste, given what they had just learned. Now he too walked over to inspect the soil. It looked like soil, smelled like soil, felt like soil – no doubt about it. It was exactly what it seemed to be.

Well done, Detective, Mr. Voice confirmed the conclusion. You got out what you put in.

The plan is to escape from here by winning the games. Given what I’ve seen so far, the organizers are definitely capable of keeping their promises. I’ll bet on that outcome. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to reach anyone on the outside. If someone is watching, they can’t or don’t want to help. But if an AI is taking care of everything here while the organizers just watch, everything fits into place.

Except, like, who brought us here and why, Mr. Voice commented sarcastically. That small matter.

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Q – 2

So one player is let out of their room and opens two doors, Quentin summed up. Then, the system tells us which rooms we can go to and what the rules are, and it gives us a time limit.

Yep, Princess confirmed. She had gotten bubble gum from somewhere and began chewing. I played four games and won them all. She let a gum balloon pop.

So team up with me if you want to live. Mr. Voice completed the thought.

The scoreboard showed a CONFIRM button for each player. Princess used her phone to highlight hers, as did Owen.

"I’d like to know just a little bit more about what’s going on before we start," Quentin responded as Princess gestured to him to get on with it and take out his phone. Y’know, before I agree to something that turns me to mud. He glanced over to the remains of the plant.

I’m sure that’s just to scare us, Princess dismissed. To keep us from leaving too soon. I mean, they can’t just murder us.

Legally it might be suicide, Mr. Voice thought, so I think they might get away with it. Tell her she needs to say something useful or you’ll just team up with the mummy.

Why can’t I get any clear answers from you? Quentin addressed both of the participants. You don’t behave like abductees. Have you just accepted it all?

For someone who didn’t come here by choice you are quite calm, analytical, Owen pointed out. But alright, I’ll buy your backstory of just waking up here after going to bed in a hotel.

Quentin had left out details like his bank account balance, the purpose of his visit, and who he did or didn’t meet in an unspecified European city.

"Assuming you are telling the truth, I’ll tell you how I got here. Owen had decided to open up. I bought a lottery ticket from a company that organizes mystery adventure holidays. And I won. They sent me tickets. I followed their instructions: took a plane, a train, and finally a boat. When I arrived, I was given some rules to follow . . . that I can’t be explicit about. Everything was going fine, as far as I was concerned. Until, he pointed at the soil, I tried this. That was three days ago.

Their discussion was interrupted by an announcement coming from the ceiling: Five minutes remaining to start the game. If the game is skipped, you will receive a penalty of one point. Participants with fewer than zero points will be disqualified.

Princess looked at Quentin, then the Suicide Box, then Quentin again and waited for a reaction.

Which city? He ignored her. Which city did you fly to?

Athens.

And this train and boat ride, how long did that take?

Two hours on a train, then a short boat trip at night. Why do you ask?

Because I wasn’t anywhere near Greece before I suddenly found myself here, Quentin said without waiting for a response. "But for you, it all seemed normal, apparently. So why did you test the Suicide Box?"

Owen acknowledged the importance of the question with a thoughtful pause. A player went missing after reaching a sub-zero score. Went into his room, yours, and never came back out. Instead, after five days, you replaced him.

Quentin did a quick mental calculation. The score was always a whole number. If any game allowed you to earn one point and each player got to play once a day on average and won every other time, then an individual’s stay here should last something like eighteen days.

Only one player went missing?

Yes. Five more left by winning before that.

So it wasn’t a one-time thing, which made sense, given how expensive it must have been to build this place.

Four minutes remaining.

Join or die, Q, Princess teased. She let another bubble pop while playing with her phone, switching her approval off and on in a pattern Quentin suspected to be morse code. Whatever the message was, he ignored it.

And you, Princess, did you also fly to Athens? he asked instead.

Nope. Started in New York, entered an underground hyperloop, and five hours later I was here. We’re right next to a station.

So Greece wasn’t entirely out of the question. Quentin lifted his head, then his eyebrows, signaling a request for more information.

Oh, my backstory? Join first, she demanded.

As skipping meant his score would drop below zero, Quentin had no choice but to participate. He tapped the red button on his phone, turning it green.

I was unemployed, in debt, and had just been kicked out of my apartment. Entirely devastated, she stated nonchalantly. And just as I was wheeling my one suitcase out onto the street, I met a guy in a fancy suit saying he needed someone. For this.

And you agreed. Just like that.

It was that or end up sleeping rough. That will kill you in winter.

The game location is the Hotel, the screen announced.

And in less than two hours, I’ll be . . . she paused as though realizing there was something she wasn’t supposed to say. . . . done here. Remember Q, vote for me.

She added a smile so unbearably cute that Quentin felt it ripple through his body. It was an unfamiliar sensation that brought to mind kittens and puppies. He frowned.

Let’s go.

Owen took a few steps. Quentin observed him closely, still wondering about how this man moved like a perfectly healthy sixty-year-old. He and Princess followed the old man. He held his card in front of the scanner to open the door.

Oh, he said upon seeing the chaos Quentin had produced while searching the room. Did you find anything?

Just my card.

Princess entered the room critically, as if she was imagining whether she could live there. Once the three participants were inside, the door closed, and the wall-mounted TV turned itself on.

Welcome, participants.

A rotating cube appeared on the screen, pulsating along with the voice. It was the same voice that had given Quentin his introduction.

Now that our mystery participant has joined, we will enter the final stage. Wait for the click.

They dutifully stood in silence for a few moments until one of the wooden floorboards audibly popped loose. Owen removed it to reveal a metal box.

Aww, look – it’s a tiny safe, Princess beamed as if Owen had just found a kitten under a leaf. Then her voice darkened. Let’s crack it.

Try if you like. Owen passed the safe to her. It had a display showing three groups of four dashes. She girlishly tapped in some digits, reading them out as she did so.

1111, 1111, 1111.

The safe beeped and the display reset.

1111, 1111, 1112. No, still nothing. Want to give it a try, Q? she said with a wink.

You have ninety minutes. Start by finding the correct combination, consisting of three groups containing four digits each. All the numbers required are in this room, and they are accessible only via cooperation. Each player must enter their own group of digits. The player with the smallest number must go first, the largest last.

The cube on the screen was replaced by a timer, showing the minutes and seconds remaining.

Birthday years, Mr. Voice said. Try it. It’s obvious.

Enter the year of your birth, Quentin suggested. Then give it to me.

Okay . . .

Princess entered her birth year without announcing it. The display showed ****. Quentin entered 1982, then passed it on to Owen. He pressed five keys and the box unlocked, revealing a key.

Nice. How did you know? he asked.

Just a guess. What now? Was that the game already?

The TV cube began to rotate again.

It would appear we need to up the difficulty for the next puzzle. For now, take the key, and close the safe. There’s a keyhole somewhere . . . unexpected. You can pay 600 seconds for a hint.

The entity on the TV was clearly aware of the trio’s quick progress, but as Owen said, so far there was no evidence that it wasn’t fully automated.

To account for Q being here, I will add an extra rule. Each time the key touches the wrong keyhole, your remaining time will be cut in half. Good luck!

Princess stomped. Well done, Q!

Quentin suddenly felt a strong urge to apologize, even though it wasn’t his fault at all. The feeling just dropped into his head the second Princess’s foot hit the floor. The two events seemed inextricably linked.

How are you doing that, Princess?

She looked at him so innocently it was almost inhuman. Doing what?

For a moment, Quentin wasn’t sure what to think. Mindreading was already hard and required a trained AI with access to implants, but mindwriting? Just like that? Impossible. There had to be an explanation. There was no such thing as magic in this world.

Never mind. He would figure that out later. The window frame over there has a keyhole. But we were told the solution wasn’t obvious, so that one is out.

This room looks like you’ve already searched it well. Do you by any chance know what to do already? Owen asked while having a good look at the suspiciously long key.

No. And I’m sure I checked everywhere.

Were there any oddly shaped power points, anything like that? Holes in the floor or walls? Owen put the safe on a small table, then tossed the key into the air to catch it with his other hand.

Telepathy, age hacking . . . and me. I wouldn’t be surprised if every participant here was special in some way. Mr. Voice switched the topic entirely. Hide your powers. At least until you know what’s going on.

If you want to put that metal stick into an electric socket, be my guest, Princess casually remarked, but I’ll look for something more reasonable. Also, I have a hint for you: It’s not in the ceiling. She looked up.

How would she know that? Because she herself couldn’t reach it? Was there an unstated rule that everything must be reachable for every participant?

I’ll have another look at the safe.

Waste of time. Princess stopped Quentin. Items only have a single purpose, unless a rule states the opposite.

So it seemed standard escape room rules applied, but being sure was still better than making assumptions.

"To clarify: We all get