Three doors, no real way to tell what might be behind and given one. Maybe a tiger, maybe a lady, maybe... well, that story had only had two doors.
I somehow found myself at the front of a group of people gathered in front of the three doors, still with no clue which one to choose. I hesitantly approached the middle door, and opened it. What looked like a forest at night was on the other side. I closed the door. Opening it again I saw a beach-- sand, bright sun, nearly cloudless blue sky. I closed the door. Opening it again--
"Oh for GOD'S SAKE, just go through!" shouted a male voice behind me. The shout was followed by a shove, and I stumbled forward. Straight through the door.
I tried to grab the door frame-- and found the door frame was gone. I landed on my hands and knees on a plain white linoleum floor. Looking back, I saw that the door was gone. In its place was a very cold and industrial looking hallway-- all concrete, exposed duct work, fluorescent lighting, and doors. Doors lined the hallway on both sides, in both directions.
The doors were a bit odd, being in all types and styles. Wood, metal, plastic(?!), etc. Some looked like they slid open, most were conventionally hung. Great. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. I hoped whoever had shoved me had at least as interesting a time once he went through a door.
I didn't recall any story thread which matched this place's description. Maybe it was a thread which had only one entry? Or maybe things weren't necessarily dependent upon what was on the website. Heck, this place could be some sort of representation of the coding behind all of the threads.
Getting to my feet I regretted taking off my shoes-- the floor was cold and my socks still damp with sweat. All I could hear was the faint buzzing of the lights and occasional, unidentifiable "building noises." The air smelled of a vague mix of, well, me, and cleaning chemicals. Someone must come through and clean the floor from time to time. Of course, there was also the smell of dust, mostly concrete in origin judging by the gritty smell.
Picking a direction I started walking, hoping to find a building directory, a janitor, or someone or something which could tell me where I was and what my options were! I wondered if the cleaning crew here even spoke English..., and if I should have found some way to note where I had started.
The doors kept coming, in no discernible pattern. Some may or may not have repeated-- I couldn't tell-- it was possible those doors just happened to look alike. Eventually I found an intersection, which only increased my random options.
Stopping, I leaned against one of the intersection's corners, massaging and scratching my back. (Sometimes I think I might have been a cat in my last life, for whatever that is worth.)
I wanted to make a choice. The quiet, windowless nature of this place was beginning to get to me, although it was a more or less known quantity. After all, nothing had appeared, yet, which would hurt me. On the other hand, nothing had appeared which really helped me, either.
I examined the nearest doors and made a choice. I decided to: