Julie seems to have read your mind, because all of a sudden you are swept up in a tornado of colours and shapes and sounds. You see stars, you hear birds; for a second there’s an orangutan floating beside you, but it doesn’t seem super friendly. Amid the din, Julie’s voice emerges, each word elongated as if she’s shouting from a great distance.
“Whatever you do, don’t think or say the word ‘pots’ backwards until I tell you!” she shouts.
“Pots backwards?” you think. Why would you ever think or say that?
“Why would I say or think that?” you ask. You’re starting to feel a bit of motion sickness. You shout to Julie, “By the way, is there any way to stop this?”
“You iiiiiiddddiiiioooootttttttttttt!!” you hear her yell. All the shapes and sounds and colours disappear like someone turned off a switch, and you notice that you seem to be slowing down. You come to a total stop and you are hovering in a complete void.
“Julie?” you whisper into the void. But you receive no response. Abruptly, you start plummeting. At least, you think you’re plummeting, it’s impossible to tell in this expanse of lightless nothingness. In the distance you see something: a speck of light racing toward you, or you toward it. As it grows larger you see that it’s what looks like a room without a ceiling. You close your eyes and brace for impact, but all you feel is a slight whoosh.
You open your eyes. You’re standing in the room. It’s a very splendid room. There is wood paneling around the bottom halves of the walls and the upper halves are painted a majestic burgundy. And the light fixtures! Oh boy, they are just marvelous, ornate pieces that cast a very friendly glow throughout the room. I’m sure you are picturing them perfectly and there’s no need for more specific description. There are two heavy wood doors on opposite walls. You are just about to investigate them when it hits you.
“Ohhh, ‘pots’ backwards is stop!” you say to yourself. “Oops.” Now you investigate the doors. They are the same basic door, but one has a number of scratches on the lower half and— is that blood? You can’t tell, but it could be blood. You have no idea what could have caused the scratches. The other door is almost too pristine, like it’s overcompensating for something.
You delicately try the handle of each door and they are both unlocked. You have no idea what’s on the other side of these doors, but you just naturally assume that this is a sort of Narnia situation and that they lead to some completely different place. You have to make a choice.