Now, in front of me, I have a door with the number 8 written on it. Clearly, behind it there could be men with guns, more fire, or, maybe, belly dancers who will cuddle me. I haven't the slightest idea, but I prefer to sit on a step for a moment and catch my breath.
I touch my pants and feel something in my pocket. I hadn't noticed it before—between fire and guns, I didn't stop for long. I rummage inside and find two big coins. They look like pirate doubloons or perhaps ancient Roman coins.
Could these be the reason I was thrown into a fiery room? I reflect.
I don't know where they came from, but they seem valuable, and if someone put them in my pocket, I'd better take them with me and hold on tight. Right now, they're the last thing I have left.
Well, let's cross our fingers and open the next door.
Yes, I know what you're thinking: with an elevator, the story would already be over, but, hey.
The situation is completely different from the previous floors.
Well, to be honest, I don't have a great memory of the floor that was on fire—let's say I was more focused on not dying. The one above, however, was a long corridor with many rooms. A labyrinth of doors and dangers.
This eighth floor, on the other hand, gives me a little more peace of mind: a shopping mall concourse, round in shape, with many small shops. Not the supermarket kind that sells a bit of everything; it looks almost like a small market with many artisan shops and a beautiful fountain in the center. The situation seems calmer compared to the previous ones.
I start looking into the shops, and only now do I realize that I haven't noticed any other customers. This is a bit fishy, but there are shopkeepers, and I hope someone can help me.
The first one I see is a bazaar full of objects of all kinds, a sort of junk shop. Inside, I glimpse a man in his thirties, dressed normally—neither elegant nor sloppy—who is smiling from behind the counter.
At the entrance, there is a sign: "What's yours is mine, and what's mine is mine."
Well, the phrase isn't exactly reassuring, but maybe it's just a joke.
I go in to ask for some information, and the clerk comes toward me with a smile: "Welcome! This is my parlor. I have objects of all kinds, sourced from all over the world. Take a look if anything interests you!"
In reality, I don't need anything, and I wouldn't even have a way to buy anything.
So, I get straight to the point: I simply ask if he can help me understand where I am and if he knows how to get out of this building.
His reaction surprises me. The smile instantly vanishes, and he looks sad. "It's better not to ask certain types of questions."
Phew, this guy seems a bit strange, so I leave the shop and decide to try the next one. As soon as I step outside, I feel... different. Lighter. Not in the sense that I'm hungry, as I haven't eaten in a while, or that I ran too much. No, it's a different lightness, as if something is missing.
I instinctively put a hand to my pocket. The two coins—or doubloons, whatever you want to call them—are gone. I couldn't have imagined it. The only place I've been is the shop.
I take a step back and try to go inside, but, inexplicably, the shop... no longer exists. The lights are off. No objects, no clerk, just an empty room with the same unsettling sign on the wall.
I don't know what to think. Those coins seemed important, but I didn't have them yesterday, and the fact that I don't have them anymore today... maybe it's not a tragedy.
Still confused, I decide to move on.
The floor is a circle of ten shops, and to avoid wasting time, I look at them all. One in particular catches my attention: I don't see objects, shelves, or displays. It must be an employment or real estate agency... who knows. It seems like a quiet shop. Inside, there's a woman in her sixties, sitting at a table. Perhaps she can give me some information. It's worth a try to go in.
I open the door, and the woman says to me, in a rather deep voice: "Welcome. Please, sit down."
I settle into a chair opposite her, because, deep down, I am courteous, but I still don't know what this person does.
She looks at me. Then, catching me by surprise, she says something that shocks me: "Ascanio, you're in the right place."
How does she know my name is Ascanio?
Simultaneously, the woman pulls out a deck of cards. Now I understand. I haven't stumbled into a real estate agency or an employment office, but a fake fortune teller. A clairvoyant, a soothsayer... call her what you will. I have never believed in these things. Never, ever. And yet... she knew my name. And I admit, this has thrown me off. Maybe it's worth staying seated and listening to her. Even just for a moment.
She looks at me with penetrating eyes, as if she is trying to read my every thought. Then, without batting an eyelid, she turns over a card.
"You've really gotten yourself into trouble, haven't you?" Her tone is calm, but there is a strange seriousness in her words. "Here is a card that shows perdition: it can mean you don't know where you are and you don't even know how you got here."
I remain silent, stunned.
That description is too precise, too spot-on. But I don't want to believe it, I don't want to fall into the trap.
Then, she turns over another card.
"This is the card of lost treasures: have you perchance lost something?"
I freeze. The phrase strikes me right in the heart. That something... I can't help but think of the coins I can't find anymore.
She, as if she had intuited my thought, continues: "That something is important. You absolutely must find it; your life depends on it."
A shiver runs down my spine.
My mind starts working, confused. What the hell is going on here?
Then she draws two more cards, and her face changes, as if she has slipped into another dimension: one is the Devil, the other is the Sky.
When she looks at them, an expression of fear crosses her face, as if she has seen something she shouldn't have, and suddenly, she stops.
"No... that's enough." She stares at me with alarmed eyes and, without explanation, she breaks it all off. "You don't have questions, but you must seek answers, and I cannot give them to you."
And then... she throws me out. Her reaction has left me more confused than before, and now I'm back in the center of the floor, with no idea where to go.
Which could be the right shop?
Should I visit them all? Some inspire more calm than others, but after what happened with the fortune teller, my judgment is more clouded than ever.
Finally, I see something that could at least offer me a mental break: a hairdresser. In the worst-case scenario, he'll cut my hair badly, but I don't think he can steal anything from me or cast strange spells.
I decide to go in.
A young man greets me with a radiant smile. He has a well-groomed blonde goatee and hair with fuchsia highlights. An eccentric type. He looks at me and, with an exaggerated tone, begins to give me a series of unheard-of compliments.
"You're beautiful!" he says, looking at me intensely. "I can see it in your eyes, you're so intelligent!"
He tries to make me feel like I'm one of the most extraordinary things he's ever seen. "You're athletic! You have an innate charisma!" Perhaps the hairdresser is short on clients and wants to convince me to stay, but it seems a bit over the top.
A little embarrassed, I ask if he can help me get out of here.
At that moment, he shuts down, his face changes. It seems I've told him something terribly serious, because his gaze becomes nasty, almost hostile.
He snaps at me that he's done everything for me, that he's been trying to tell me I'm wonderful for half an hour, but that I don't accept compliments from him and only want information. His voice is full of anger, of a hysteria that I don't understand. I didn't do anything, and yet it seems I've hurt him deeply.
Sure, I hadn't exactly thanked him enough for the compliments... but to go from that to this scene of hysterics? It seems a bit excessive.
I leave perplexed, and the hairdresser shouts terrible things at me; he must be truly offended.
I'm fed up; I have to find the exit.
In the most remote corner of the floor, I see a small shop full of machinery. Inside, there is a pale, white-haired, very thin old man. He seems harmless, and even though here even a hairdresser can become aggressive, I decide to try with him. It's my last attempt; then I don't know what I'll do.
I enter, and the man looks at me with dreamy eyes.
"Do you need anything?" he asks gently. He explains that he is capable of recreating anything.
Only then do I look more closely at the machinery around me: there are machines for printing money, pots for melting gold, molds for minting coins... in short, I'm inside a forger's laboratory! And all this in plain sight, inside a shopping mall.
I politely ask for his name.
He replies: "Punzecchia" (Sting/Pinch).
It doesn't sound like a name to me, but I've seen so many strange things today that I'm not even surprised anymore.
I explain to Punzecchia that I lost two gold doubloons and also met a fortune teller who told me it's essential that I find them. I wonder if, at this point, maybe he can reproduce them.
He immediately answers "yes," but there's a question to ask: What does he want in exchange? With a very sincere look, he tells me: "You'll take my place and stay here, in this shop, while I leave." After that, he gives me a grin, and I realize there's nothing good in the proposal.
I'm quite sick of strange characters and surprises, so I rush out. The old man with the cane insults me and runs after me. I walk past the hairdresser, and I see he's still swearing at me, but he doesn't leave the shop. I walk past the fortune teller, who looks at me suspiciously, but she doesn't leave either. Finally, I pass by the other shops: by now, they are all watching me because I've caused a stir in the little square.
I return to the first shop, the thief's, the one who stole my coins. At this point, I decide to listen to the fortune teller: I don't want to stay there forever in place of an old man, nor do I like being insulted by a flattering hairdresser.
I knock on the door to try to get him to open it. Inside, the lights are off, and no one seems to be there.
I knock, knock, knock, but I get no answer. This time, however, I'm truly fed up and I won't back down. I take a running start and smash the door with my shoulder. Honestly, I hurt myself quite badly... I'd never tried to break down a shop door before.
Once inside, the lights are on. He is at the counter, and all the objects are there, as if something completely different was seen from the outside.
"Hey, you, give me back my coins right now," I tell him.
Initially, he tries to deny it, but I'm sure he took them: it was the only place I'd been. I start to get nervous, so I walk up to some vases that look very precious.
"Do you want me to send them flying?" I ask with a menacing tone.
He looks at me, a little scared. It seems those vases cost him a lot... in money or effort.
He hesitates, perhaps he thinks I'm bluffing, but I'm truly tired and want to close this matter. Those coins didn't interest me, but you never know if that madwoman might be right...
I pick up a vase and start a countdown.
Now he's frightened. "Stop, stop, stop!" he tells me.
I, in response, tell him: "Stop nothing, I want to see my coins!"
Finally, he gives in. He pulls them out and places them on the counter. I approach with the vase still in my hand, take them, and leave.
As soon as I step out of the shop, across the circle, I see a door with an arrow pointing down.
But... why didn't I see it before? Maybe I'm just tired, maybe I'm confused. Yet, I'm quite convinced that door wasn't there before. It's impossible... doors don't move.