Peter Jenkins was a creature of habit. His day started every morning at 6:30 and ended every night at 11:00. He ate plain yogurt with bran buds for breakfast. He did his laundry on Saturdays, starting with the whites, ending with colors. On Wednesday’s over lunch he participated is his office building’s yoga program. On Tuesday’s he rented a new release from Blockbuster, on Thursday’s he had dinner with his father. It wasn’t that Peter was a boring man, he just found it easier to stick to a routine.

On Tuesday, September 23rd Peter awoke to find that a power outage during the night had restarted his alarm clock. Luckily, his internal body clock woke him up at 6:37 so he was not really all that behind schedule. He swung his legs over the side of his bad and into the well-worn slippers that lay on the floor. As he shuffled into the bathroom he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slightly off, but he attributed the feeling to the 7 minutes of extra sleep he had enjoyed that morning. He showered and shaved and stood naked in front of his closet for a couple of minutes debating which sweater vest would best match the white and blue striped dress shirt he had ironed the night before.

Once dressed Peter headed to the kitchen for his breakfast, stopping at the front door of his tiny duplex to grab the newspaper. Peter subscribed to a daily paper service because he believed that was what grown-ups did, but to this day he only ever read the comics and his horoscope. Today’s horoscope was slightly cryptic but generally positive:

“Your energies are well spent on travel today. Casual acquaintances will offer you words of encouragement that could stimulate great change. This month’s planetary alignment will allow you to enjoy and value your own life. A visitor may compliment you on your attire today. Be sure to say thank-you.”

The last line made Peter chucked to himself. No one had ever complimented him on his attire before, and he certainly couldn’t see today’s outfit attracting attention. Peter packed up his paper-bagged lunch and grabbed his brief case. For all his routine the one thing that he could habit he could never manage develop was returning his car keys to the hook near the door, so as with most morning he spent several minutes checking pockets and tables before locating the keys on top of the microwave.

Peter walked out to his Honda, stopping first at the passenger door to drop off his stuff and then circling around to the driver’s side. As he turned the ignition the radio came to live, jumping into the middle of a Beach Boys song. The music felt a bit high energy for this early in the morning, so Peter reduced the volume just slightly. The traffic report would be on any minute, at which point he would turn the volume back up. Peter reversed down the driveway and embarked on his 40-minute drive to work.

The flashing lights of police vehicles could be seen for quite a distance, but it wasn’t until Peter got within a block of his 4-storey office building that he realized the commotion originated there. Yellow police tape covered the entrance to the underground parking. Peter pulled over to the side of the road and turned on his hazard lights. He pulled out his cellular telephone, which he kept for emergencies such as these, and dialed his company’s reception. Bethany-Ann, the personable yet dim receptionist, answered immediately.

Peter: Oh hi Bethany-Ann…good morning…just stopped outside here with all of this Police hullabaloo, and just wondering if you could suggest an alternate parking location…?

Bethany-Ann: Hi Peter, what a way to start a Tuesday morning! I am trying to get some answers but the Police are very hush hush about what is going on. Seems to have something to do with the soap dispenser company on the 2nd floor. All very exciting. You can park next door I would assume, they have a large underground parking.

Peter: Oh that’s great – thanks Bethany-Ann.

Peter hangs up and returns his phone to the glove compartment. He pulled back onto the road and continued to the next office tower in hopes of finding parking there. It was apparent that others had opted to do the same thing, and thus this garage was almost entirely full. After circling down 5 levels Peter noticed a small spot in far, dark corner and backed his vehicle in. The spot was too small for Peter to open the driver’s side door so he was force to climb awkwardly across the shift on out the passenger’s side. There was a large unmarked metal door directly to the left of his car, which Peter assumed must lead to a stairwell. He entered and walked down the short concrete hallway until he reached a row of three brightly colored doors. For some curious reason, each door was painted a different color – one blue, one yellow, one red. It seemed much more likely to be found in an elementary school than a corporate office tower. Peter’s gut was telling him that none of the doors would lead to stairs so he retraced his steps back towards the parking garage only to discover that the door he had come through had locked behind him. At this point he also noticed a small message printed on the door. Why go backward? Forward is better. Pick a door! Peter returned to the three doors and stood puzzled and perplexed, trying to decide which handle to turn first…