Holder of Ego

In any city, in any country, go to any barn or farmhouse you can get yourself to. When you walk in, whether or not anyone is there, ask to see someone who calls himself "The Holder of the Ego." The room will become immediately filled with water that is both clear and opaque white at the same time. You will find that you can still breathe while submerged in it. You will feel your consciousness slip away and at once will see nothing and everything, and you will know that this is what death feels like.

An eternity will pass.

You will find yourself standing in the same farmhouse, with a lit cigarette suspended in mid-air. Take it and inhale deeply - the smoke will bring the worst pain you've ever felt into your lungs, but don't exhale or the smoke will hardly be the only thing expelled. Only after you hear a bell, you may exhale. The smoke will take the form of yourself - only ethereally at first, but gradually developing bones, then organs, then muscle. Its skinless face will shout at you: "Who wants to know?" Say nothing. Don't even blink. He will shout the same question at you in a louder voice than you've ever heard. Say nothing. The voice will shout at you with a force that could shake the foundations of the greatest buildings in all the world. Should you go without moving until this point, you may reply "I want to know." If you have moved, you'd already be experiencing an eternal darkness.

Your doppelganger will take off like a man possessed, dashing through mazes of walls and fencing that seem to sprout up around him. If you take the time to look at any of these walls, he will be long gone and you'll be left to wander the maze forever.

When you reach the end of the maze, you will see expanded before you all your memories and experiences. These will stay with you for the rest of your life, and you'll be able to recall with perfect clarity anything that's ever happened to you. You'll suddenly remember a needle that's been in your jacket pocket for who knows how long.

This needle is Object 147 of 538. Reality itself is pierced by it.