It is a tough decision to make—whether togive up your life so you can live it over again!
For an instant you thinkit is temporary blindness,this sudden dark thatcomes in the middle of a brightafternoon.
It must be blindness, youthink; could the sun that wastanning you have gone out instantaneously,leaving you in utterblackness?
Then the nerves of your bodytell you that you are standing,whereas only a second ago youwere sitting comfortably, almostreclining, in a canvas chair. Inthe patio of a friend's house inBeverly Hills. Talking to Barbara,your fiancée. Looking atBarbara—Barbara in a swim suit—herskin golden tan in the brilliantsunshine, beautiful.
You wore swimming trunks.Now you do not feel them onyou; the slight pressure of theelastic waistband is no longerthere against your waist. Youtouch your hands to your hips.You are naked. And standing.
Whatever has happened to youis more than a change to suddendarkness or to sudden blindness.
You raise your hands gropinglybefore you. They touch a plainsmooth surface, a wall. Youspread them apart and each handreaches a corner. You pivot slowly.A second wall, then a third,then a door. You are in a closetabout four feet square.
Your hand finds the knob ofthe door. It turns and you pushthe door open.
There is light now. The doorhas opened to a lighted room ...a room that you have never seenbefore.
It is not large, but it is pleasantlyfurnished—althoughthe furniture is of a style that isstrange to you. Modesty makesyou open the door cautiously therest of the way. But the room isempty of people.
You step into the room, turningto look behind you into thecloset, which is now illuminatedby light from the room. The closetis and is not a closet; it is thesize and shape of one, but itcontains nothing, not a singlehook, no rod for hanging clothes,no shelf. It is an empty, blank-walled,four-by-four-foot space.
You close the door to it andstand looking around the room.It is about twelve by sixteen feet.There is one door, but it is closed.There are no windows. Fivepieces of furniture. Four of themyou recognize—more or less. Onelooks like a very functional desk.One is obviously a chair ... acomfortable-looking one. Thereis a table, although its top is onseveral levels instead of only one.Another is a bed, or couch.Something shimmering is lyingacross it and you walk over andpick the shimmering somethingup and examine it. It is a garment.
You are naked, so you put iton. Slippers are part way underthe bed (or couch) and you slideyour feet into them. They fit,and they feel warm and comfortableas nothing you have everworn on your feet has felt. Likelamb's wool, but softer.
You are dressed now. Youlook at the door—the only doorof the room except that of thecloset (closet?) from which youentered it. You walk to the doorand before you try the knob, yousee the small typewritten signpasted just above it that reads:
This door has a time lock set toopen in one hour. For reasons youwill soon understand, it is betterthat you do not leave this room beforethen. There is a letter for youon the desk. Please read it.
It is not signed. You look atthe desk and see that there isan envelope lying on it.
You do not yet go to take thatenvelope from the desk and readthe letter that must be in it.
Why not? Because you arefrightened.
You see other things about theroom. The lighting has no sourcethat you can