The voice returned, its cold tone ignoring Noor's insults.
"You must find the exit yourself. It is simpler than you imagine, but you complicate things with your naive thinking."
Noor felt a hot flash of irritation but forced his anger down. He was normally a calm person, but the feeling of being lost, of having no control, was beginning to unravel him. He started walking again, the oppressive white walls making him feel suffocated and tense.
"The solution is simpler than you imagine," the voice mocked. "Think. Observe."
Noor took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. He opened his eyes and began to run again. Nothing is without end, he told himself. I will find the end of this corridor.
But as time stretched on, he found nothing but the same vast, white emptiness. Exhausted, he finally slid to the floor, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes in despair.
"Very well," the voice said. "I will give you one final hint. But remember, this is the last piece of help you will get. If you do not understand this, you will remain here forever. Now, listen carefully."
Noor raised his head, his face a mask of concentration.
"If you can answer this question," the voice continued, "you will find the exit. What is the one thing you can use to escape from the world, which no system can ever take from you?"
Noor thought, the words echoing in his mind. Escape from the world?
Can anyone ever truly escape? he mused. Your soul is trapped here until you die. You're always under the control of some government, some higher authority. You pay taxes, you work, you have children who repeat the same cycle. You're a pawn in their game, a slave to the system. There is no escape from human control, except through…
Suddenly, an idea flashed in his mind like a solitary light in the darkness. Everything became clear.
"Yes," he whispered, a thrill of excitement flowing through him. "That's it. It's the only way to escape this reality." He scrambled to his feet. "It's imagination! It has to be imagination." He remembered an old saying: In imagination, we have an entire alternative life.
"Yes, Mr. Noor, that's it," the voice replied, a hint of amusement in its tone. "What a genius you are. But you haven't escaped yet. Show me how you'll get out of here."
"Shouldn't you open the door for me? I solved your cursed riddle!"
"Do you think it's that easy? Of course not. You know the solution. Now use it."
Noor's enthusiasm began to fade. What does imagination have to do with getting out of here? he thought, his old logic returning. That's a crazy idea. This world runs on science. Imagination is just something in your mind. The overthinking was making his heart race, but he forced himself to calm down.
Well, he decided, trying can't hurt.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and pictured a door in the corridor right in front of him. He imagined walking toward it, reaching out, and placing his hand on the handle. He felt something solid and cool beneath his fingers. He snapped his eyes open.
He was holding a real door handle.
"Is this possible?" he breathed, his eyes wide with astonishment.
He turned the handle and opened the door. An intensely bright white light flooded out, forcing him to shield his eyes. When the light faded, he found himself in another room. It was a perfect square, a hundred meters wide and a hundred meters long, with walls so white it felt like he was standing inside a block of pure marble. There was no door.
"I escaped a corridor to enter a room," he said flatly. "Great. Should I just make another door?"
"No," the voice replied, its tone now that of a teacher. "Here, you will follow my instructions. You will learn how to use this inner power, how to use your mind—especially your imagination—to create anything you desire. Now listen.
"You can imagine things you've seen. A friend's face, your home, down to the last boring detail. But you can also imagine things that have never existed. A man who flies, a dragon that breathes fire. You do this by combining images you already know into something new. The more you learn and see, the more fertile your imagination becomes. To create something, you must first build a perfect image of it in your mind.
"But you must be familiar with the reality of the thing. If you want to create a tennis ball, you must know it's a lightweight rubber sphere, yellowish-green, covered in felt, with a specific weight and diameter. You must combine all these facts in your imagination. An idea in your mind has weight, an energy that is barely perceptible. With this ability, you can amplify that energy. You can take the very molecules around you and reshape them with your will into the solid object you've imagined. To do this, you also need enormous mental energy, which we have supplied. So, all you need to do is imagine the object perfectly, extend your palm, and it will form there for you to hold.
The voice paused. "Later, you may be able to create things at a distance, or even illusions—a copy of yourself made of light to distract an enemy. Fortunately for you, you possess a photographic memory. You remember everything you see with perfect clarity. It's why we chose you."
Noor scratched his head, trying to process the strange words. "If it's that complex," he said, "how did I create the first door without thinking about any of that?"
There was a slight hesitation before the voice replied. "Well… I didn't want to disappoint you. I am aware of everything you think and imagine. Since you had reached the solution, and you imagined the door… I created it for you. You are not yet capable of doing it yourself. It's not that simple."
Noor's face fell with disappointment. "Okay, whatever," he said, a new question taking priority. "But how do you know what I'm thinking? And why won't you tell me where I am? I have a right to know. You can't just kidnap me and hold me here."