I glanced around, my eyes darting through the endless glow, trying to make sense of the space, trying to figure out how to escape this strange, swirling elevator of light. The brightness consumed everything, but occasionally, faint lines flickered into view, slicing through the radiance like distant shadows. I squinted, tilting my head. "Are those... floors?" I intoned, the question barely audible over the hum of energy thrumming around me.

Then, slowly, the sensation changed. A subtle pressure built beneath me, and I felt the force of something solid beneath my feet. Gravity crept back in, its familiar weight wrapping around me like an old friend, grounding me in a deliberate embrace.

I didn’t so much step out of the elevator as blink and find myself elsewhere. The incandescent light that had carried me surged forward, flooding the space ahead with a sudden, almost overwhelming brilliance. A dense wave of humidity pressed against my skin, clinging like a second layer, the air thick and damp. The shine dimmed so abruptly it left me stumbling forward, my steps unsteady as a low, resonant droning seeped into my awareness. It seemed to shift the air around me, subtle but constant, vibrating faintly through the soles of my feet.

I rubbed my eyes, blinking against the afterimage that had been burned into my vision while trying to make sense of the transition. The glow still lingered, teasing the edges of the room and warping the outlines of what lay ahead. A bead of moisture trickled down the back of my neck, the oppressive dampness mingling with the fading disorientation. I stood still for a moment, listening to the droning reverberate softly, its pitch rising and falling as if alive, as I struggled to orient myself in this unfamiliar place.

I stood in a bright white room, the kind of sterile light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. Turning on my heel, I scanned the space for the elevator but there was nothing, just an unbroken expanse of glowing white.

“Well, damn,” I spoke under my breath, my voice oddly muffled by the stillness. “Where’s the exit?”

The only break in the emptiness was a faintly outlined shape at the center of the room. Squinting, I stepped toward it, each footfall strangely muted as if the floor itself absorbed sound. The object came into view. It was a console of some kind, sleek and unmarked, with no obvious buttons or screens.

An invisible silent pressure halted my advance, subtle yet unyielding, as though the air itself had solidified at the five-foot mark.

My fingertips hovered near the barrier, a faint tingle brushing at my skin. I tilted my head, studying the console as if staring it down might make it reveal its secrets. But with no way to get closer, it was clear I wasn’t getting any answers.

"Alright," I whispered, curiosity flickering through me. "What are you hiding?"

When silence and stillness were the only reply, I let out a huff, my frustration giving way to determination. Turning away, I moved to the walls, and allowed my hands to glide over their impossibly smooth surfaces.

My fingertips mapped the smooth surface, gliding over its pristine texture as I leaned in, eyes scanning every inch for the faintest crack or hidden detail.

I didn’t notice anything unusual until I reached the second wall. As soon as my fingers brushed against its surface, it shimmered, light rippling outward like water disturbed by a pebble. An opening emerged before me, revealing what lay beyond.

Curiosity tugged at me as I stepped through, into a room furnished austerely with neatly arranged tables and chairs. The setup was almost unnervingly ordered, each chair perfectly aligned with its partnering table. I looked toward the front of the room where a long dark wood table stood in stark contrast to the lighter surroundings.

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I squinted, taking it all in. "Is this... a classroom?" The thought perched in my mind as I moved closer, the air heavy with the stillness of a place that had long ago lost its purpose despite its tidiness.

I wandered past the rows of chairs and tables, my steps echoing in the stillness, and approached the long dark table at the front. My eyes scanned its smooth surface searching for any clue, an inscription or some object left behind, anything to hint at what it was for.

But there was nothing. The table was blank, its emptiness almost mocking in its simplicity. I felt some frustration rise as I leaned over, my hands pressing down on the cold surface. The tension in my fingers matching the tightening in my chest. I exhaled an unfinished, “Come on,”, but the silence swallowed my words.

As my palms pressed against the table, the room around me seemed to undulate with the haze of atmospheric heat. Suddenly, the chairs were no longer vacant. They were filled with students. Each figure was indistinct, something like projections that were struggling to solidify. Their postures and movements suggested focus, as if they were absorbed in some unseen task. I staggered back instinctively, my heart pounding, and the vision vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The room was empty again.

“So… touch?” I asked myself, swallowing hard as I stepped back forward. Slowly, I returned my hand to the table, bracing myself for whatever might happen next. My fingers grazed against the surface, anticipation cloying like nausea down my throat as I waited for the room to respond.

The students shifted geometric shapes on their desks in an ethereal pantomime, their hands deftly arranging and rearranging pieces into patterns. My gaze swept across them, lingering on each of the apparitions. They seemed so ordinary, just regular people, engrossed in some task I couldn't quite comprehend. “How are you all here?” I asked them, unsurprised when no response was given.

I had an odd feeling of familiarity for a moment regarding the whole situation, but then I realized it just reminded me of games where the protagonist solved mysteries through retrocognitive experiences of the past. I watched the scene, slightly humored now by the similarity of events to something as mundane as a video game.

Then, just as quickly as when it had begun, the scene paused unceremoniously. Startled once again I glanced down at my hands to see if I’d broken the connection but no, my hands were still firmly pressed against the table. Before I could fully process the interruption the vision restarted, repeating like a looping video.

“What am I looking at?” I asked my unresponsive new acquaintances. This was obviously a puzzle but I couldn’t seem to figure it out, and my frustration started seeping back, threatening to suffocate any good mood I may have had. I focused, trying to catch any meaningful detail or clue, but the panoply gave me nothing. The students continued their repetitions, shifting the geometric shapes on their desks with no discernible pattern or purpose. I wondered briefly if they were actually ghosts, rather than soulless projections, and if maybe they were stuck in some kind of groundhog day situation that continued even after I stopped seeing them. I veered off that mental track before I got too distracted, or bummed out.

I leaned closer, straining to hear if they were speaking, but all I caught was the faint rustle of movement. No words, no whispers, just an eerie, empty quiet. Nothing seemed significant, no hidden message or standout moment, just the monotonous rhythm of their hands moving shapes.

“What’s the point of this?” I mused to myself, stepping back, a growing sense of futility settling over me. I pulled my hands away, and the room fell silent and empty once more.

“Guess there’s nothing here,” I sighed, turning back toward the door. My eyes scanned the room one last time, confirming there were no other exits before stepping back out.

When I turned back, the door was gone. The smooth expanse of the wall greeted me where the opening had been. Frowning, I stepped closer and pressed my hands against it. Nothing happened, not even the faint shimmer that had marked the first wall. “Oh, what the hell?” I grumbled, my frustration bubbling out verbally.

I considered staying and pressing my hands in the same spot, hoping for some hidden mechanism, but the thought felt pointless. With a sigh, I stepped back.

"Fine, then." I murmured. "Keep your secrets." a small smile overcoming my frustration at the remark as I recalled a particularly good movie. Resigned, I decided to search the rest of the room instead, my fingers brushing the walls as I moved along.

I wound my way along the next wall, methodically running my fingers over its surface as before. I crouched as I neared the floor during my sweep, and felt a surge of renewed excitement accompany the faint shimmer of a ripple across the wall, as another opening appeared.