You wake up. Quite jarringly, in fact. Your head hurts, and you seem to be in a polished metal box. There's a set of doors on one side, but no doorknob. Right next to the door, there's a small panel. It has half a dozen buttons, labeled 1-6.

The button with the number 6 looks as if it's out of order. The button is hanging out of the socket by a red wire.

You're sure you've been in a place like this before, but you seem to remember it moving. Yes, these things are supposed to move. This one must be stuck. Call for help? Yes, you can call for help. But... how? You have no way to contact any people, and the elevator has nothing but the doors and the buttons.

Maybe you should press one.

You press the button labelled "4", and... nothing happens.

Well, that was anticlimactic. Is this the floor you're on?

But the doors remain closed.

Now what?

Maybe you didn't press it hard enough. Or you didn't press it quite the right way.

You try again—harder this time. Still, the doors refuse to budge.

And again. Maybe holding it would work? Third time's the charm after all.

Still nothing.

There's five—erm... four other perfectly good buttons you could be pressing right about now. Why did you pick this one?

Perhaps it's because four is your lucky number.

Perhaps it's because it's unlucky.

Whatever your reason may be, you fail to notice yourself losing balance during your futile attempts to convince button 4 to do something. And your other hand slips and presses another button at the same time! This elevator lets you do that? Before you could ponder over that question, the elevator starts shaking violently—unsure of which floor to stop at.

It seems pressing button 4 and another button simultaneously had an entirely different effect on the elevator than if you were to press either button individually. But what was that other button you had pressed?

The elevator shakes and shivers. The floor beneath you shudders so hard that you fall.

As you hit the floor, the elevator soars up at such a rapid speed that you can’t stand up. You struggle on the floor for a while, until it gradually starts to slow down. It finally stops.

You see that Button 4 is illuminated. It glows a brilliant yellow.

Then the doors creak open.

You find yourself beside a still river, flowing so silently you can barely hear it. The sky is overcast and moody, the wind whispers through the rushes, and dragonflies hum on the banks. The temperature is perfect.

It’s so peaceful after the stress of the elevator that you just sit beside the river to enjoy it.

Suddenly, the surface of the water starts to bubble, as if something is stirring underneath. You look nervously towards the elevator. Do you go back? Do you retreat to higher ground? Or do you stay here and wait to see what it is?

You walk towards the riverbank, soft grass enveloping you in comfort so profound that you almost ignore the dew collecting in your shoes. You feel your heartbeat slow as you approach the bank, the water moving so serenely that it does not make any sound at all, and your hands plunge into it; what should be icy, is warm, almost soothing, as it breaks around your fingers and begins to flow properly.

You recline slightly, dew seeping in through the back of your jacket, hair consumed by the grass as your hand sways lazily in the water. The grey sky roils with no threat of rain.

You sit up.

The river has stopped flowing. The water around your hand is perfectly still, and you can see your reflection staring back at you. You blink. It doesn't. You pull your hand out, and the reflection remains, its fingers still submerged, its face wearing an expression you don't recognise. Then it smiles. Slowly, almost apologetically, it raises one hand and points behind you.

You turn towards the elevator. Its doors are still open, and the yellow light above Button 4 flickers weakly. Something is standing inside. At first, you mistake it for a shadow cast by the dim interior, but then it shifts its weight, and the metal walls groan under the movement. It is tall enough that its head disappears into the ceiling, and its arms hang so low that its fingertips brush the floor. You cannot make out its face. You can, however, see the small panel beside it. Every button is dark except for Button 6, which glows a furious red. The loose wire hangs from its socket, twitching like roadkill.

You scramble backwards, but the grass beneath your palms has turned slick and cold. The river begins to flow again, this time in the wrong direction, dragging leaves, reeds, and mud towards its source. From inside the elevator comes a soft, metallic ding. The figure bends its head, just enough for you to glimpse a face: your own, pale and bruised, with blood trickling from the hairline. Its mouth opens, and your voice emerges from the darkness.

"You weren't supposed to press four."

The elevator doors begin to close. And the river surges.