The Escherian Stairwell knows only one direction—upward. It is an antique mass of brutalist architecture, a spiral staircase that begins but never ends. Determined, albeit stubborn, wanderers have tried and failed to reach a rumored destination by trekking up the stairs, only to return back to their original starting point. A blinding light encases the ceiling, yet no matter how far up one walks, the distance never closes. Such incomprehensible infinity is typical in a place where the laws of physics cease to apply. Yet as aimless wanderers navigate the stairwell, indifferent to the monotony of the black and white, they might notice the silence permeating the environment—finally hearing the thumping of every heartbeat and the whistling of every breath.
There is nothing to be frightened of. Most wanderers will calmly traverse a couple flights of stairs before realizing that the grandiosity is merely a facade—at its core, The Escherian Stairwell is a mundane illusion. It is not intended to deceive, nor is it intended to impress. It is not malevolent, though it is not benevolent either. The stairwell exists in a confined area, and there is nothing more to it. Its existence might be unusual and off-putting, but by no means is this thought something to reminisce about. There is no psychological torture. There is no inconceivable end to reach. There is no significance hidden within its steps. But most of all, there is no danger, and there is no reward. A revelation about the sheer unimportance of this stairwell may arise, but for most wanderers, this is merely a passing thought.
In the end, no matter how much one embellishes it, this permanent fixture is just like all the other landscapes wanderers might experience—it is insignificant and indiscriminate. And it’ll stay this way for all of eternity… at least, until our perception of it molds to give it new life. Just like everything in this world, it will have its time in the spotlight once again, its story retold in yet another manner.
