The White Room Story, 2018
I am in the middle of a room. The room is cube-shaped. Each wall of the room is square. The ceiling is square, as is the floor. The walls of the room are white and high. The walls emit a soft light, as if it were coming from a little further away. The ceiling is white and emits a slightly brighter light. The light shines evenly across the entire surface and gently illuminates the whole room. I am alone in the room. It is quiet. The white of the room provides a strong foundation for a sturdy standing position. I am without clothes, without thoughts or feelings. I look at my hands and my body and notice that I am completely white myself. ”Only I am,” I think.
There is a door on the wall opposite me. The door blends completely into the wall, except for its faint outlines. The outlines are so thin that they are barely visible to the naked eye. My curiosity draws me towards the door. I walk to the door. My steps feel light and effortless, requiring almost no effort at all. It feels like I’m walking on cotton wool. I reach the door and stop to look at it. The door has no hinges and appears to be an integral part of the wall and the room. I look at the door and touch it. The door opens without making a sound. It is still quiet.
Behind the door, a room identical to the previous one is revealed. The floor is white, the walls are white and high, and the ceiling shines brightly, illuminating the entire room. My gaze is drawn to a figure. The figure is sitting in the corner of the room on a white chair. However, the figure stands out from the room. The light coming from the ceiling creates shadows that outline the figure, which is sitting very elegantly on the chair. The figure’s legs are crossed, and their arms are also crossed in their lap. He looks at me, even though he has no face. He is very calm, as if frozen in place. It is as if he knew I was coming. His legs change position. The leg that was crossed underneath is now on top.
”Who are you?” he asks. His posture remains unchanged. All his limbs remain in place as if they had always been there. I walk to the middle of the room and stop there.
”It’s me,” I reply. The figure doesn’t move. He continues to sit firmly in the same position. It is quiet. He sits opposite me and looks at me. I feel his gaze. I feel a connection.
”What am I?” he asks. His voice is calm and steady. His voice is not colored by emotions or fluctuations in thought. I hear his voice even though I cannot see him speaking.
”I am me. This being and these words,” I reply. I am still standing opposite him. I look around a little and notice that the door I came in through has now disappeared. The walls of the seamless cube meet at the corners and at the ceiling and floor. I turn my gaze back to him.
The figure lifts his legs so that he is sitting upright with both feet flat on the floor. He places his hands on his knees for support and stands up. He walks calmly but purposefully toward the wall. He looks at the wall as if he sees something there that I don’t. He looks slightly upward.
”Do you know where we are?” he asks, reaching out his hand toward the wall. His other hand is lightly clenched into a fist, and he touches the wall gently with his index finger.
”We’re here,” I reply, watching as he looks at his fingertip and then turns his gaze back to the wall. Now his gaze shifts downward, and he puts his hand behind his back and grabs his other hand by the wrist with his other hand.
”Do you know who I am?” he asks, turning slowly around. He raises his gaze and walks slowly toward me. He stops a short distance away from me and stands looking at me. His posture is straight. He is unshakeable, and he looks as if he has always stood there. His majestic presence makes the room feel cozy. He just is.
”You are you,” I reply, looking at him. He has no expression. His face is smooth, and his body reflects the light. He takes his hands from behind his back and places them casually at his sides. He looks up at the ceiling.
”I designed this room,” he says.
”I erected these walls. I built the floor you are standing on. I created this light in this room.”
He looks back at me.
”I am like you. We are the same.”
We stand facing each other, identical. We are in the middle of a white room, and it feels like standing in front of a large mirror. I raise my hand from my side, and he does exactly the same. We both raise our hands in exactly the same way to head height, as if to greet each other. It’s like greeting your reflection in the mirror. We both slowly push our hands forward, and they meet exactly halfway. Even though our hands touch, it feels like nothing. It really is like touching your reflection in the mirror. We both stand motionless, looking exactly alike.
I look around a little. When I turn my head, he turns his head in exactly the same way. My attention is drawn to a chair in the corner where the figure was sitting a moment ago. I notice that there is also a chair in the other corner, mirroring the first one. A white chair.
”Who are we?” I ask. We simultaneously lower our hands back to our sides.
”We are you, and we are me. We are one. We are this room and this space,” he replies.
I look up again, and he does the same. We both look at the light that shines evenly across the entire ceiling. The white walls of the room are just as they are in this moment. There is no time and no place. I lower my gaze back to him. There he stands. There I stand (Miettinen, 2018).