Zal slowly entered the room. It was an ordinary and relatively small room.

  In the room was a small bed for resting. A table and chair for sitting. And on the table, a notebook for writing.

  Zal quietly closed the door. He moved forward. Across from the table was a small window — exactly like the windows he had seen from outside the library.

  The sunlight touched Zal's face with its gentle rays.

  Zal went to the bed and lay down. He stretched a little.

  He put his hand on his head and wept.

  He wept.

  And he wept.

  "Here... it's so quiet here," he said with a lump in his throat. "Why should there be peace now? Why? Why wasn't there peace before? Why wasn't there peace when my family, my friends were alive? Why did everything disappear so quickly?"

  He lost himself in his mind. Zal searched through thousands of possibilities where everything had gone well.

  But the worst possible outcome had happened to him. And this was torment. Torment that never ended. Torment that only gave torment.

  "In the deepest point of his despair, man neither wishes for death nor wishes for life. He wishes he had never been born, so he wouldn't have to lose all of this."

  Perhaps at this point, man no longer wants to stay alive. A point where neither is he dear to anyone, nor does he have anyone dear left.

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  Why was he even seeking a cure among his question candidates?

  Zal slowly rose from the bed. He wiped his tears and went to the table. With his hands, he pulled the chair back and sat on it.

  Under his eyes had darkened.

  He began to look at the book. The book had a black cover, and on its title was written: "Book". It seemed the servant's words were true — nothing here had a name.

  Zal looked at the first page.

  The pages weren't old. They were freshly printed. The pages were white — like Zal's lament.

  On the first page was written:

  "O you who have come

  O you who ask

  O you who question

  Know that the best way to the best question is writing.

  Writing the questions you want and then completing

  Your question to reach the best possible answer from the Sage."

  Zal leaned back in the wooden chair. He lowered his head. There was still both sorrow and tears in his eyes.

  He said to himself: "Hey... life has been very cruel to me. But still, it has left me the gift of death. So I can see my family again."

  He paused.

  "It would be very foolish to destroy this gift with one question."

  Zal wrote on the book:

  "Question: How can I cure my illness?"

  And he drew a thick line through the question.

  It seemed he now knew what he wanted and what he didn't want.

  "Zal was learning that some wishes must be killed. Not because they were bad, but because to stay alive himself, he had to kill something else: the hope of living longer."

  He wrote the next question on the book:

  "A book that allows me to better understand the new world I am in. At least to understand the place where I am living, so I don't offend anyone. And in this new world, at least spend the days I have left not in vain."

  Zal himself knew it wasn't the best wish. But he didn't want to think more.

  If he was seeking to live longer, there were many wishes and questions. But when he chose to live only the basic life granted to him, the wishes became few.

  "Choice becomes simple when a person knows how much of himself he will spend. Zal didn't want to spend more than he had. He didn't want to be more than he was. He just wanted to understand where he was. Perhaps this was the simplest possible wish. Perhaps it was also the greatest."

  Finally, Zal chose.

  His question was a wish for a book — or knowledge — that contained the story of everything from the beginning of civilizations. Nothing more, nothing less.

  ---

  A knock came at the door.

  Knock

  Knock

  Zal said: "Yes?"

  The servant said: "Hello Mr. Zal. It's your turn to speak with the Sage. I hope you have understood your question."

  Zal rose from the chair and went to the door. He slowly opened it.

  And said: "Well... I guess it's time to go."

  ---

  "And thus, Zal with one question in his pocket and thousands of questions in his heart, went to meet someone he himself had unwittingly brought into existence. He didn't know what the Sage looked like, nor what he would say. He only knew he couldn't have chosen simpler. And perhaps this simplicity was the most complex choice possible."

  ---

  "Elsewhere in this tall tower, in other rooms, there were other guests. Each with a question in hand. Each with hope in heart. None of them knew that tomorrow, after meeting the Sage, some of them would never return to these rooms."