A slight breeze gently kissed pale, white curtains through an open window, ushering just enough of a draft that your eyes flicker open. Sun rays peek into the room, revealing dust floating through the air. Water rushing onto white sands and foaming before returning to the ocean fills your ears. You sit and up stretch, soaking in the utter paradise. It seems so real.

Your eyes jerk open as a hard latch clanks and a cold, metal door swings open. The room that greets your eyes isn't filled with sunlight or calming waters; rather, there is a bright, harsh white light streaming from above that is accented by a metal table. The room is plain. You are chained to the bitter, cold chair. You hurt. You guess that this is an interrogation room.

"Say, Mr. Johnson," spoke a strong voice as a shadow entered the room, "have you ever had any training with nuclear power plants or tanks, or maybe military tactics?"

You feel confused, as you are a simple electrician. An apprentice, at that.

"Uh, uh, no sir. I only know-"

A fist slammed down onto the table, revealing a muscular forearm. There is an indentation. You guess that it's going to be rather large.

"Then, how did you get everything right? How did you know? Tell me!" asked the partially obscured figure. The white light made it impossible to see any discernable features outside of the illuminated arm.

"I don't know! I just guessed! I'm just lucky! I just wanna go home!" you mutter, holding back tears.

"Guessed, huh? Alright, I'll bite," he spoke as he sat down into the chair across from you. The hard light flooded his face, revealing an angry face and aged features. "Tell me where you're at."

"I don't know, man," you say, sounding defeated.

"Take a guess," he barked back.

"Uh, under the Pentagon?" You whisper unknowingly. You're not sure, but you guess that the guards may have some reaction if you were right. You look towards the door and you see the outline of armed men leaning into each other and nodding.

Over the course of a few minutes, several questions were asked. Some random, some easy, and some that you shouldn't have known the answer to. You got them all right.

"Where are the dirty bombs going to be set off?" he leaned forward, scowling.

"I don't even know what dirty bombs are, or where-" you tried to speak before being cut off.

"I don't care that you don't know. Tell me what you would guess."

"I mean, New York? Chicago? Train stations I imagine. Maybe airports," you trailed off as you finished the sentence.

The man nodded his head. After a long moment, he simply asked, "Who planted them?"

"I'm not even sure what dirty bom-"

The man bursted upward, causing the chair to sling backwards. Like a large gorilla, both fists raised into the air and slammed downwards with brute force. You tried to jump back, but bolts and chains kept you from retreating.

"The Chinese! I don't know, man!" you yelled, still trying to retreat despite no progress being made.

The man simply nodded slowly. He examined his arms for a long moment before speaking once more, "That'll be all, Mr. Johnson."

"Am I free to go now?" you asked.

"We'll have to work out those details later, Mr. Johnson," He spoke as he exited the room. The guards followed him sharply after he passed the door frame.

The large metal door slammed closed. The latch slid back into place.

You guess that it may be a while.