The table was not there before. You do not know how it got there. The table is round; a proportinately small round base curving to a spire before widening out to its gargantuan surfae. The table is snow-white and glossy, reflecting back a distorted version of yourself in the supporting spire.
You are still standing on the outskirts of the pool of light, the light which casts no shadow. You cautiously approach the table, unsure of what might happen. This room has a habit of changing. Just as the thought crosses your mind, you blink; the table is no longer the only piece in the light.
The table, previously smooth and bare, now has a rough appearance on the top, and sitting upon the table is a completed Rubik's cube. The green and yellow sides are facing towards you, with the red side facing upwards.
"Why do you know what a Rubick's cube is," you wonder, when you cannot even recall your own name? You stand, still, unsure of what to do. The room seems to have no purpose, an intent neither benign or malicious. It's changes are more confusing than harmful. Like they're trying to tell you something, but the message is delightfully twisted.
You continue to approach the table, cautiously but optimistically. You reach the edge, and gaze upon the table. Carved into the surface is a majestic horse.
The horse is quartering towards you, the mane billowing in the wind, the tail streaming streaming out behind. The horses eyes are filled with the fire of life, it's nostrils flaring with exertion as it gallops by. It is the most lifelike carving you have seen.
You stare. And stare. And stare. Enveloped by the beauty of the carving. For right at the centre of the carving, directly above the horse's heart, sits the Rubick's cube. Red-side up, it contrasts vibrantly with the white table, and it is perfect.
