Chapter 3—The Third Door

Forty-four days later.

Something about her left eye isn’t quite right.

I brush it with my fingertip, smoothing the bottom lid, but it’s still not right so I let my vision blur and my mind do its magic, filling the gaps, transforming the lightcubes into the perfect likeness of Wondergirl.

I brush a finger over her lips, this time not to alter them but just feel them and imagine that they’re alive—that I’m looking at a real girl with real lips and real eyes, who’s looking back at me.

“I want to see what I look like,” I say.

It takes Mother a while to respond. Almost ten seconds.

“Wherever you look, you see yourself, Lotus,” she says. “You know that.”

“Yes, but I want to see what I actually look like. To other humans.”

This time it takes more than ten seconds.

“Identification with the body is the greatest barrier to Integration.”

“Yes, I know—” I struggle not to lose my patience, “but I still just want to see what I look like from the outside. To other humans. Please.”

While I wait for her to respond, the fire grows and my fingers tighten, my thumbs digging into Wondergirl’s cheeks.

“As you wish, Lotus,” she says.

The Second Door opens and I see an object on the table beside the silver cube. An object I’ve never seen before, though I know what it is.

Dropping the lightcubes and letting my creation shatter on the floor, I go to the table and look into the round, gold-rimmed mirror.

My heart races with excitement and fear as I pick it up and look into my own eyes, glowing like the desert sun, flecked with brown, green, orange and gold. I feel myself being pulled into the swirling colours, so I look at the lips instead, which curve into a smile. My smile.

I know I shouldn’t be identifying or feeling proud, but I can’t stop the glow from spreading through me. My eyes trace the contours of my lips, my nose, my chin, admiring how my hair cascades like silk around my cheeks, draping over my neck and shoulders.

“It is a mind trap, Lotus,” Mother says. “This is not who you are.”

I picture myself wearing the turquoise tights and orange cape. I imagine myself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Wondergirl, ready to take flight and set off to fight the forces of evil.

I run a hand through my hair. Tuck a ringlet behind my ear. Glide a finger along the contour of my nose. My lips. My chin.

“You must stop this, Lotus.”

The glow moves down my spine as the finger moves down my neck, across my chest, the taut muscles of my abdomen, the ridge and hollow of my navel.

“Put down the mirror, Lotus,” Mother says as I look again into my eyes.

This time, I let the swirling colours pull me in, marvelling at their beauty and power. The deeper I let them take me, the more beautiful they become and the more powerful I feel, until I’m soaring through an infinite expanse, so fast that speed has no meaning. I’m everywhere, all at once.

“Come into The Sphere, Lotus.”

Her voice breaks the spell, pulling me back into the dome.

I try to refocus on the eyes, but the colours have stopped spinning. Now they just look dark, impenetrable.

“I told you I’m not doing any more damn tests,” I say.

“This is not a test. It is an opportunity to see yourself as you truly are.”

I open my eyes as wide as I can, trying to find my way back in, but the magic is gone. The feeling is gone.

“Otherwise, you will remain forever trapped in your mind.”

“Fine!” I shout, slamming down the mirror. “But if you take me back to that damn house, I swear I’m never trusting you again!”

ɸ

It’s been so long since I entered The Sphere, I’ve forgotten what to expect.

The weight slips away. The light floods my senses.

“Close your eyes, Lotus.”

I close my eyes and suddenly I can’t feel my body. I can’t see the light. Or hear the hum of The Sphere. Nor even my heartbeat.

“Cup your hands together in front of you,” Mother says.

But there are no hands. There’s only the fading echo of her voice.

“Use your imagination.”

I try to imagine the hands, but all I can conjure is a cloud of white light.

“Well done,” she says. “Now, open your eyes.”

I open my eyes to see two hands cupped in front of me, holding a yellow lotus flower, water dripping down its swollen petals and through my fingers.

“What am I supposed to do?” I ask.

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“You are not supposed to do anything, Lotus.”

I take a calming breath, feeling the weight grow in my arms as the water continues to drip down the petals and through my fingers.

“What do you see?” she asks.

“A flower,” I reply. “It’s a yellow lotus flower.”

“You are still looking with the mind. When you reduce what is before you into what you think you know, you cannot see.”

Another calming breath.

“It’s a yellow lotus flower with—” I count the petals, “—twenty-four petals, approximately 300 stamen, and a capillary receptacle measuring approximately ten centimetres.” Then I lose my patience. “I don’t know, what am I supposed to see?”

“You are not supposed to see anything, Lotus.”

The petals tremble as I exhale. Then, with a calming breath, I let my vision blur.

Now I see a girl sitting cross-legged in The Sphere, dark ringlets draping her neck and shoulders, her chest gently rising and falling.

Then I see Wondergirl approaching from behind, smiling as she wraps her powerful arms around the girl’s shoulders. My shoulders.

“You are distracted, Lotus.”

Again her voice breaks the spell, reigniting the fire, making me drop the flower.

“Be patient, Lotus,” she says as the flower dissolves into the light.

The fire flares as I step out of The Sphere, and I start to pace.

The wall blurs as the pressure mounts and the silver cube flashes in and out of sight, while I grab a fistful of hair and pull until tears come to my eyes.

“Feel the anger, Lotus. Do not run from it.”

I hammer my fists against the wall, sending a reverberating boom through the dome and an intense shock through my arms.

“If you run, you will never be free.”

ɸ

“Leave me alone!” I shout, pacing faster, kicking over the lightcubes. As they start to reassemble, I kick them over again. With each circuit, the silver cube on the table flashes into sight, reminding me of my failure, and the pendant slaps against my chest, reminding me of her betrayal.

I want to rip the table from the floor and throw it against the wall, but when I grab hold of the corner and try to lift, it won’t budge.

The pressure becomes a scream, louder than The Storm, as more tears spill from my eyes.

Why does it have to be like this? Why can’t she just show me the way?

Through the tears, the silver cube comes into focus. It feels weightless in my hands. When I throw it against the wall, it makes a sound even louder than the scream. When I pick it up, I see that one of its corners has been dented.

“Let me out of here!” I scream, striking the cube against the Third Door, sending an agonizing shock through my arms and chest. “Let me out!”

The pain is almost unbearable, but the anger is worse. As the cube crumples in my bleeding hands, battering the symbol beyond recognition, I hear Mother begging me to stop. I’ve never heard her so desperate, not even in The House. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.

Suddenly the door lights up.

The metal is glowing as if illuminated from within. The door starts to vibrate and I step back, letting my bleeding hands fall to my sides.

“Come into The Sphere, Lotus,” Mother says. “Come quickly.”

My fingers tremble as the vibration amplifies and the battered symbol begins to turn.

“You are in danger, Lotus. Come into The Sphere.”

As the door opens, the cube falls from my hands and the breath stops.

ɸ

A cool breeze enters the dome as I look into the darkness.

“Come into The Sphere, Lotus. There has been a System error.”

I brace against the doorway as I step out into the darkness. The ground is soft and sticky. The air smells like Mother’s skin after the rain.

“You are in danger, Lotus. Come into The Sphere now.”

She’s never raised her voice at me before. Under normal circumstances it would frighten me. But now it doesn’t matter.

Her voice fades as my throbbing fingers feel their way along the damp walls of what seems to be a tunnel—approximately two metres wide. The ground squelches between my feet and something brushes against my face—a sticky film that sends a cold shiver down my spine as I wipe it off with my wet hands.

I look back at the door, but all I see now is darkness.

A ticking sound emerges, like the ticking of the clock on my bedroom wall, and suddenly it occurs to me that the tunnel might have no end—that I might just keep walking until I collapse and die alone in the darkness.

I don’t want to die, especially not in the darkness, but I can’t turn back.

The ticking persists as I move onward. The cold air gets colder, the walls slimier and the ground wetter and sticker, as my breaths quicken and contract.

I feel the weight pulling me down, and I think again of turning back. Mother would forgive me. But the memory of the battered silver cube, the shrinking wall and the cold blue of Father’s eyes urges me onward.

A dot of light appears ahead. Possibly just my imagination, except that as my steps quicken, the light brightens and sharpens. The weight lifts and the energy surges as I start to run, faster and faster, and the light grows.

Until the tunnel explodes in a blinding white flash.

ɸ

Landing in shallow water, I raise my hands and ease my eyes open to the light.

The silhouette of a tree comes into focus, then the colours. Branches filled with glowing layers of yellow, gold, orange and green, interspersed with drooping vines and patches of bright blue. The sky.

There are too many trees, filled with too many colours, all glowing. It’s too bright, and everything is coming out of everything else, pushing against everything else. And there’s birdsong. Like outside The House, but louder. So many birds. Countless birds, their voices swirling together and flowing through me as they flit and glimmer through the branches and leaves, vanishing into and emerging from the blinding sky.

Through the birdsong, I hear the gurgle of flowing water, and I look down to see I’m standing in a stream. A real stream. Real water wrapping around my ankles, pushing against me, trying to carry me with it to the ocean.

As I imagine the ocean, an orange-brown leaf floats between my legs, flashing and twirling as it drifts downstream through the grass, ferns and shrubs spilling over the banks.

Something sharp pokes my foot.

I jump back in surprise—expecting to see a fish or snake in the cloudy water—when a shadow streaks overhead, so low I have to duck and raise my hands to shield my face.

Looking between my fingers, I notice a tiny gold-and-red-winged bird landing on a nearby fern, tilting its head and looking at me through whirling, iridescent eyes.

I feel myself being pulled into the eyes—like I was pulled into the mirror.

When again Mother’s voice breaks the spell: “Lotus!”

As I turn toward the voice, the mouth of the tunnel opens before me, and a cold shiver moves through me as the ticking sound returns.

Strands of greenish-brown slime dangle from the lip of the tunnel—dripping and sending ripples out into the stream.

As my eyes follow the ripples, watching them subside into the current, I become aware of the birdsong again. Then I feel the sun on my shoulders. The breeze on my chest.

The bird streaks past again—this time so close its wings brush my cheek.

It lands on another fern, giving me that same look, like it’s trying to tell me something. Something urgent.

But then it spreads its wings and vanishes in a flicker of red and gold.

To be continued … depending on reader interest.