What Is Real?

There was only one rule: don’t open the door.

The hinges gave out an eerie squeal, and the man shuddered. The door shut. Something warm and thick started trickling down his arm and all the way to the armpit, following broken, unnatural laws of physics. The man fixed his eyes on where his fingers used to be. "Bread and circuses," he uttered and fainted. On falling, his head hit the doorknob.

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Television showed people that the world is vast and full of all sorts of things: mundane and extraordinary, dramatic and comical. Wars, hurricanes, Eurovisions, football matches—everything could be consumed from a cozy sofa in your living room. Reality shows, commercials, documentaries, and narrative films... Now, in the age of streaming services, one has so many options. One can relive so many lives. And so, so much violence.

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The woman heard how the door squealed and somebody shrieked. She groped past a narrow, dimly lit corridor and approached the door. Her fluffy and lustered sheepskin rug was soiled with blood. Four fingers lifelessly peeked at her from the reddened wool. The woman leaned on the door. Her first impulse was to scream and then, maybe, faint. Her second impulse was to grab these disgusting fingers, open the door, and shout to her neighbor: "Here! you forgot! these!"

But the rule said: don't open the door. And wait, she had a neighbor all this time?

The game was straightforward: sit in the room and watch the screen. And there was the above-mentioned only rule.

"Curiosity killed the cat," the woman purred and returned to her room.

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The screen in his room had turned black and stayed like this for hours. Bored, the man remembered about the door.

Before leaving this world, he could smell sweet, spicy perfume.