Squash and stretch a molten ember to fit each glowing slot
A molten ember comes loose at the top of a soot-black chimney flue and begins the long roll downward. Below it, band after band of brickwork waits, and every band carries a single glowing slot. Some are wide and squat, some are tall and narrow, and the ember passes through only if its shape matches the opening it meets.
The control is a single drag, held under your thumb. Pull down and the ember squashes flat and wide, spreading out until it can slip through the broadest gaps. Pull up and it stretches tall and thin, drawn out into a shape that threads the narrow ones. There is nothing to aim and nothing to time apart from the moment you commit to a form, which makes the whole game a conversation between your hand and the next slot coming up out of the dark.
Your score is simply how deep you manage to roll. Every band you clear adds to the count, so a run reads as a single unbroken descent rather than a series of separate attempts, and the number you finish on is the honest measure of how far down the flue you got.
The pressure builds in three ways at once. The fall speeds up, so the brickwork arrives faster and faster. The slots stop taking turns politely and begin alternating between wide and narrow with less and less warning, which punishes anyone who settles into a rhythm instead of reading each band as it comes. And the tolerance of the fit itself shrinks with depth, until a shape that sailed through comfortably near the top will catch on the brick further down. Early bands forgive a rough guess; deep ones want the exact shape and nothing near it.
Because the descent never ends, there is no final band and no last stage to reach. There is only the depth you are carrying and the question of whether you can hold your nerve for one more stretch of flue. Runs are short at first, and the early ones will end abruptly while you are still learning how far the ember can spread and how thin it can be drawn before it slips through. Later ones become a steady, narrowing focus, with the glow of the next slot emerging just in time and your thumb already moving.
It is a game of shape rather than reflex, suited to a few minutes in a queue or a long sitting where you chase a deeper number. Learn the feel of the squash, learn the feel of the stretch, and let the chimney do the rest.