Hall of Mirrors Hall of Mirrors By FREDRIC BROWN It is a tough decision to make—whether to give up your life so you can live it over again! It is a tough decision to make—whether to give up your life so you can live it over again! For an instant you think it is temporary blindness, this sudden dark that comes in the middle of a bright afternoon. For It must be blindness, you think; could the sun that was tanning you have gone out instantaneously, leaving you in utter blackness? Then the nerves of your body tell you that you are standing, whereas only a second ago you were sitting comfortably, almost reclining, in a canvas chair. In the patio of a friend's house in Beverly Hills. Talking to Barbara, your fiancée. Looking at Barbara—Barbara in a swim suit—her skin golden tan in the brilliant sunshine, beautiful. You wore swimming trunks. Now you do not feel them on you; the slight pressure of the elastic waistband is no longer there against your waist. You touch your hands to your hips. You are naked. And standing. Whatever has happened to you is more than a change to sudden darkness or to sudden blindness. You raise your hands gropingly before you. They touch a plain smooth surface, a wall. You spread them apart and each hand reaches a corner. You pivot slowly. A second wall, then a third, then a door. You are in a closet about four feet square. Your hand finds the knob of the door. It turns and you push the door open. There is light now. The door has opened to a lighted room ... a room that you have never seen before. It is not large, but it is pleasantly furnished—although the furniture is of a style that is strange to you. Modesty makes you open the door cautiously the rest of the way. But the room is empty of people. It
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