The Theory of the Closed Door

Since childhood, Amelia had been obsessed with closed doors.

Not just any door — but those discreet, silent ones, forgotten in the corners of ancient buildings, draped in dust and mystery.

At 29, an archivist in a derelict Gothic library, she discovered a nameless door in the basement.

It was wrought iron, devoid of a handle, inscribed in Latin:

“Veritas non timet investigari.”

(“Truth fears no investigation.”)

For months, she scrutinized documents, ciphered manuscripts, and accounts from former employees — all vaguely referencing “Room Zero.”

Amelia developed a theory:

Every forgotten door conceals not merely a physical space, but a forbidden idea — something time endeavored to bury.

At last, on a rainy dusk, the door opened. By itself.

Inside, there was only a mirror.

But it did not reflect her body.

It reflected her memories — all of them.

And as she approached, things she did not remember living began to manifest.

Memories of other people.

Of other lives.

Of choices she never made.

Of deaths she never witnessed.

The mirror then whispered in her mind:

“You are not the first to open this door. But you shall be the last to close it.”

The door behind her dissolved.

Amelia held her breath.

Lights flickered on the ceiling.

The floor trembled.

Then... the image faded.

And another screen appeared.

In truth, she was partaking in a virtual reality experiment in the city mall.

Outside, a game store clerk removed her VR headset and said:

— “Congratulations! You completed The Forbidden Door Simulation™. Want to try the 4D Mysteries of Egypt package now?”

Amelia blinked, bewildered.

She looked around.

Fast-food bags. Children clutching balloons. People chewing gum.

— “…Did I pay for this?”