The Lights
The sight that confronts you is a simple one; you are in a room made of glass, and on the wall opposite to you there are what looks like three light switches and a door, but it is not the way out, the designs on the doors are not the same. You, again, see your mirror image in the shiny glass, and again you see its mouth moving."Here are three light switches,
Each connected to a bulb,
But only one works,
The other two are old.
You must find the right one,
But you must do it this way;
You can only flick the switches TWICE,
And then you must say,
Which of the switches works?
Will you get to leave, or will you have to stay?"
You shudder at that last line and step forward. The three switches are in front of you.
Waiting.
You think out a plan. Once you have it, you walk up to the first and with a jerk, flick it down.
Then you wait three minutes.
Next, you turn it off and move to the second switch. Biting your lip so hard it bleeds, you slowly push down.
Then you go through the door.
Inside, there is just a single light bulb, sticking out of the back wall. It is not shining. You go up to it and, hesitating at first, put your hand on it. It feels warm, and you know which switch worked.
The first one.
You don't need to see it to know the door is already there. You run towards it and it slams behind you.
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