Hey guys! The first Choose a Door Chapter 1 was kinda awkward and bland, so I’ve redone it with some more spice. Tell me if this is better!

This chapter is dedicated to Annika Sanderson, for laughing at all the bad jokes, enjoying all the sloppy stories, and for being an all around wonderful friend.

The first event in the experimental universe professionally labeled “Choose a Door” went as fast as it had come. It was as fleeting as a blink of an eye, because that was what it was. “In the beginning, a girl blinked.” Not the best beginning to a story, is it?

After she blinked, the girl opened her eyes again, and looked around. She later described what she saw in this way:

            “Now I know this is like, really going to make me sound nuts, but after all, if you aren’t going to be able to believe this part of the story, then you won’t believe any of the rest. So, when I woke up, or maybe since I wasn’t asleep, when I began, I saw a lot of whiteness around me, white brighter than a snowy morning, or, like, looking into a flashlight in the dark. It hurt my eyes, so I covered them with my hands. I did that for, like, a minute, and in the dark I realized that I had absolutely no idea who or where I was. I put my hands down, and really just stared at them for a long time, terrified. I looked around slowly, trying to find anything familiar, but where I was just kind of made me more scared than I was already. I can try to describe it to you, but Carrots here could probably give you a better lay of the land than me.

            “So, the first thing I remember wondering was whether I was outside or inside, because there was just blank whiteness all around me, everything was blurry, the only things I could see were myself, the floor, the table, and the wall. (I’ll get to all of them, pal, just wait.) The floor, (or, if I was outside, the ground, I guess?) was white tile, so straight and neat and nice it made me feel like I was in a hospital, which made me feel nauseous. The floor went on forever, and – (What?) ok, fine. Mr. Details here pointed out that we don’t know that it went on forever, but it sure looked that way to me.­

            “Anywho, I was sitting at a picnic table, like the kind you use at a park, or in your backyard, with the benches built into the legs. It was whiter than wood ever should be, but it was wood all the same. My clothes were, um… (I’m trying to think of what they were like), oh! Like those clothes karate people wear, but with really tough and thick cloth and without sleeves, but really baggy and with a belt like the karate ones. (Come again?) Oh, right, the belt wasn’t like a karate belt, it had like, all sorts of pockets on it, and, um, (how many holsters were there again? Four? Wow.) Yeah, there were four holsters on it, for reasons that come in later.

            “(What am I missing?) Oh right, the wall. Well, when I woke up – began (sorry!), the wall was really boring, it was just the same as the floor but going up. Oh, it wasn’t like a wall that holds up anything, it was like a ‘stay out of here’ kind of wall. If it was the other kind, I would have thought that I was in a room (1rst interview with Adrian & Charlie, Dec. 21, 2020).

            The girl sat at the table for what could have been hours, or days, or only moments on Earth, but in that strange world, Pa Time sleeps, and works only in his dreams. She looked around, too scared and excited to speak. She looked to the left, drifted to the right, looked back to the left, and jumped out of her seat and shouted.

                        “There he was, just sitting there with his eyes shut, out of the blue. One moment I’m alone in the world and the next – POW! There he is. Scared the living daylights out of me, but at least he got me to get off that bench (9^th interview with Adrian and Charlie, Feb. 7, 2021).”

            A boy had appeared on the opposite bench, with closed eyes and fiery curls. He was in the same outfit as the girl, and rather chubby, and had so many freckles that at first the girl had thought he was dirty. He couldn’t be older than fifteen and was much shorter than her. It was as if he had been behind an invisibility cloak that had suddenly been lifted.

            The girl stared at him for a good while, then apprehensively returned to her seat, curious once again. She quietly asked:

            “’Hello?’ I heard a strong, young, and female voice. About fifteen years old, and deeper than is considered normal for a person of that age and sex. All of these observations run through my mind in the course of seconds.

            “’Are you dead?’

            “I opened my eyes and looked at the girl addressing me. I saw a person that fit my mental description: a teenage girl with long, dark, hair pulled tightly into a ponytail, and with eyes the shape and color of almonds wide and observant, darting to and fro. Her lips were full-ish and dark, and there were several small blemishes on her skin, which was between coffee and tan. Her ears were small and round. The detail that I first noticed, though, was that this was a person that is always craving danger, and even then, looked immensely excited about the place which we were in. Once again, all of these observations occurred in a very short amount of time. This was one of the first things I noticed about myself, that I am a keen observer.

            ‘“Hey there, man.’ the girl ventured ‘Welcome to the world, I guess. I’d tell you my name, but I can’t remember it. Do you?’ I was caught off guard by her words and didn’t respond for a moment.

            “‘Hey, man, are you okay?’ The girl leaned towards me to see if I was okay, and I quickly regained my wits.

            “‘I’m fine, thanks.’ I replied.

            “‘He speaks! Glad to see you’re finally up. If you don’t mind me asking, who are you? (Adrian’s Journal, pp. 1-3)’”

            The boy thought about this, and realized, like the girl, that he had no memory of his past. His mind was anything but blank, though. In the few seconds that he had been awake, he had observed every detail of his surroundings and of the girl opposite him. He tried with all of his might to recall one detail of anything before that moment, any trace of a life before then, but he came up short.

            “I, I don’t remember anything.” The boy’s hand absent-mindedly drifted to his eyebrow, and he began to rub it nervously. He spoke with a distinct British accent.

            The girl sighed disappointedly “Same here.” The two sat in silence for an awkward moment, until the girl spoke up. “Do you have any idea where we are?” The freckled boy shook his curly head slowly, looking at the tiled ground. The girl gave a small “Humph.” of displeasure and probed further. “Is everything blurry to you? I can barely see you clearly.”

            The boy looked around, then back at her, and shrugged. “Everything’s clear to me. But I can tell that you wear glasses. You have faint imprints on the bridge of your nose.” The girl felt her nose frantically. Sure enough, there were two nearly invisible indents there.

            “My gosh, you’re right! I wear glasses! Dude! How did you do that?” The boy looked up, confused. “How did I do what?”

            The girl guffawed. “Um, how did you just look at my face for two seconds and tell that I wear glasses? That’s like Sherlock Holmes level awesomeness!” The boy shrugged, embarrassed, and quickly looked back at his bare toes.

            “I dunno, I just sort of… looked for details, I suppose.” The girl nodded as seriously as she could manage but was obviously pretty impressed.

            “So,” the girl started. “where do you think we are? It sort of looks like a hospital to me.” She shuddered instinctively and memorized this new trait of hers. I’m afraid of hospitals. I wear glasses. I’m afraid of hospitals and I wear glasses. I’m afraid of hospitals…These details were all she could call an identity, and she was determined not to lose them.

            The boy frowned. “I don’t think this is a hospital. Have you ever seen a hospital this big? Or with picnic tables?”

            “Good point.” The girl without her glasses looked down and brainstormed hard. “Oh!” she cried. “I know! Have you watched The Matrix?” The ginger-haired boy looked at her suspiciously. “Yes?”

            “What if we’re in some sort of virtual reality thing?” The boy looked skeptical but considered the thought. “Maybe. But maybe not. I’ve never heard of any VR this realistic.”

            “But it could be, right? It’s the best idea we’ve got.” The boy gave a calculated nod. But he kept staring at his feet in thought. More awkward silence.

            “Hey,” The girl was squinting up at something above them, putting her hand in front of her to shield her eyes from the brightness around them. “What’s that?” The boy looked around, and then saw where the girl was looking and looked up with her.

            “Looks like bits of paper.” he said, squinting against the whiteness. And they were indeed: two little pieces of paper were drifting down towards them. The girl clambered up onto the table, crouched in preparation for a jump.

            And what a jump it was. She rocketed through the air, easily snatching a paper with one fluid windmill swoop. She lingered in the air for one glorious moment, then landed ballerina-style on her toes in a crouch. She brought the paper close to her face to read it and didn’t notice the boy’s open mouth or wide eyes.

            “Charlie Liang-Jones.” The girl recited. She looked up just in time for the boy to regain his dignity. “I think it – I think it’s my name!” Charlie Liang-Jones, still on top of a pure-white picnic table, jumped her spectacular jump again and bellowed, “I”M CHARLIE LIANG-JONES!” The boy winced and reached onto the table to pick up the other paper, which had landed a time before. He cleared his throat. “Adrian Murphy.” He glanced at a ringlet of his fiery hair. “Murphy. I suppose that explains the hair.”