The door leads to a hallway. It’s long. You walk down it for hours—maybe days. There’s no change in the uneven, decaying plaster and no relief from the pain. You’re delirious from lack of water. Suddenly, there’s a crack of light—a door. You open the door and—you’re back in the decaying room. The door closes behind you. You look back: It’s the ivory door you walked through in the first place. All doors lead to nowhere. You don’t have enough energy left to scream. What do you do?