Philosophy Lessons - The Arrow of Time

"We could have her inhabit" - said the Writer - "a labyrinthine mansion of empty rooms. Each chamber would be daintily furnished and exquisitely stocked yet desolate, as if its dwellers would have just left or would be just about to arrive."

"She would cross one door" - exemplified the Writer - and find herself on a drawing room were a china set complete with a steaming teapot is waiting over a credenza. Or perhaps a bedroom were the sheets have just been freshly changed and a pair of slippers loyally awaits at each side of the bed; or a parlour filled with the vanilla scent of a cigar consuming itself over an ashtray; or a narrow hallway where the bell of a wall phone would stop ringing just as she closes the door behind her back."

"Each room would have four doors: one entrance and three exits that would lead to three different yet identically inhabited rooms." - followed the Writer – "She would be free to choose any of the exits but it would be impossible to go back to the entrance through which she just came in. Perhaps it would be due to a magical curse or thanks to an ingenuous mechanism that would keep a pathway blocked once used."

"Now that I think about it" - murmured the Writer with an evil smirk - "we could have the mechanism wired on her very own brain: a strong directive skilfully rooted on her subconscious mind that would force her to always keep on going forward across the empty manor making the mere idea of going back overwhelmingly terrifying for her."

"Tell me" - asked the Writer, with almost honest doubt - "would that really be too cruel?"

The voice of the Writer travelled freely across the empty room, bounced back from the solid bare wall and, finding no obstacles on its way, turned back to his ears as a crystal clear echo. Exhausted, and a little bit bored, the Writer sank into deep silent thought.