Pressure.

I stared at the keypad, trying to remember the correct code that had been drummed into me over and over again. “Twist the dial, type ‘2-0’, flick the sw— no wait,” what was it?

I felt the pressure. The pressure from my peers and everybody around me, dependent on my next move. But more importantly, the pressure from myself. I had to do it. I had a lot of energy at my care, but how was I going to control it? What was that code? I knew that one wrong step would deplete my chances, and a careless action would make the whole contents in that small box, which held no prisoners, explode and burn to a crisp. What a waste that would be.

C’mon! Think! I could drive a tank, operate a gun, navigate across the harsh Afghanistan desert, yet when my comrades needed me most; my mind had hit a wall. “Twist the dial, type ‘2-0’, flick the sw—“

‘YOU JUST TRIED THAT!’ one of my companions yelled, the stress and panic leaking out of his voice like water from a tap. ‘We haven’t got much time left’. In immense dread, I touched one of the buttons and, unbeknown to me, it bleeped and the whole box sprang into action, leaping and whirring as it eventually lit up. My last sense to realise what had happened was my touch. But I soon felt the immense heat radiating through my bones, like a wave of water drenching a sandy beach, seeping into every nook and cranny available and making me aware of it, as if it was just tapping me on the shoulder. Everybody around my flinched in anticipation as a harsh countdown started and I knew this was it.

10, 9, 8—“EVERYBODY GET READY”, 7, 6, 5, 4, —“IT’S GONNA EXPLODE!”, 3, 2, 1

*ping*

The popcorn was ready