Running I make it to the gathering, people pushing at each other to make it through while a single instruction rings out from speakers.
"There are ninety-six spaces, secure a space. There are ninety-six space-"
The spaces the voice speaks of at the glowing tiles in the ground with numbers on them, and nearly everything is occupied.
Fuck!
In haste I jump at spaces from Eighty to the last, pushed and shoved aside by men and women larger than me. I find myself struggling for the last line, the last six tiles.
Screaming I pull out my soda bottle and wave it at incoming idiots, slamming my foot firm on the Ninetieth tile.
The bozos find their way, backing away from me all while glaring. But I don't mind them, the tile below my feet glows and thrums with a hum, confirming my entry.