[so i'm late, shh]
From this point of view, you are in a large, sterile-looking room. One wall is entirely mirrored, making the place seem even more empty. However, you are sitting at a small desk, hardly taking in the surroundings. Instead, a holoscreen is showing a drawn image of a house. It is quaint, old-fashioned. A pick-up truck is parked outside, and a little brown animal is running in the front garden, which is filled with flowers. The windows have lace curtains behind them. Next to the house is a stack of logs, and--
And from the bottom layer of logs, one is missing. The pile is impossibly unstable, held up by nothing. You tap at the gap, and a new picture is loaded. After several of these "wrong" pictures, it becomes apparent that this is a type of test.
Eventually, no new pictures load, and the terminal shuts down. You're still looking at it, though. You don't really notice the three people that walk into the room from the door on the far side, by the mirrored wall, until they're standing right in front of you. You stand up, taking in each of them, taking in the reflection behind them, looking at your own reflection. You, in this case, are Tieria Erde, looking the same as ever.
Almost the same. There's something off, something about the eyes. And what looks like a hospital gown instead of clothes.
"Tieria, you're finished for today," says one of the people. She's wearing a white coat, making notes on a pad. No eye contact. Another, an older man, nods in agreement.
"Go back to your quarters," he says. "You know the way, don't you?" You nod, once.
The third person, another man, is tapping away furiously at his pad. He's younger than the others, with scruffy, short hair, and a mouth that can't stay still. It's as if he knows he's supposed to be serious, but can't help being excited. It bursts out of him, suddenly, in a grin.
"The results are already calculated, you kicked that test's ass! Uh, I mean, you did really well. Even with the hesitation on the house picture - what got you, the dog? This is the best average I've ever seen!"
And then he reaches to give you a manly pat on the shoulder, a good old well done in physical form.
You can see your face in the mirror, out of the corner of your eye. You can see the shock.
The older man is shouting now, something about something called Hell, and his hand is now on the younger man, pulling him away, shouting into his face, and dragging him back through the door. The woman crosses the room, and opens the other door, gesturing at you to leave.
But you barely see her. You're just staring at your shoulder.