A man, who claimed to be a great traveler, once told me that the number of
rooms was infinite; he himself had in his lifetime seen many thousands. He
said that it had been proven long ago, though the proof is now lost. I was
quite ready to believe him, as the sights he described to me - rooms where
water poured from the ceiling or the walls, rooms that shook and changed
shape, rooms filled with dust and shadows that no man dared enter - seemed
to me to be the subjects of those dreams I forget upon waking. He asked me
to come with him, and grew angry when I refused.
That was many years ago, when I was still young. It was tempting, but I
knew, and know even better now, that there is enough to find in this one room,
so simple and spare that the traveler mocked its unadorned walls and single
door. Yes, there is still much to discover, though I have counted the cracks
in the paint and measured the room's dimensions to within the tiniest fraction
of an inch. When I was a child, I believed the floor was a perfect square:
I have long pondered why this is not so.
Now I sit in the corner by the door. My eyesight has become poor, but I no
longer need it. I have stared at every square inch of the walls, squinted at
the ceiling, examined the minutest features of the floor for so many years,
that I know the room, its physical reality, by heart. I have learned many of
its secrets. It was my life's work, and I am proud of my knowledge. Yet I
know that there is some hidden meaning that still escapes me in the room's
dimensions, the faded whiteness of the walls' paint, the pattern of cracks in
the ceiling. I also know that I almost understand.
In truth, I have always felt some intuition about this place; when the
traveler asked me why I would not go with him, I had no answer - but I am
now sure that the reason was that, even so early in my life, I sensed the
door he had come through was the wrong door. This is the greatest secret: in
this room, somewhere, there is a second door. One day soon, perhaps even
tomorrow, I will grasp the mystery of this room, and I will at last find the
second door On that day I shall walk to the door, if my knees will support
me - if not, I will crawl to it - I will open the door, and through it I
will leave.