It is impossible to tell if a wind is blowing or not. The temperature is undefined. It is neither hot nor cold; it is doubtful whether the very concept of 'temperature' even exists in this place.

The flashlight in Guest's hand is the sole light source in the entire world. When the switch is flipped, a small click sounds, and a cone of white light slices through the gloom. However, the range of that light is agonizingly narrow. Take one step forward, and everything behind is instantly swallowed by absolute blackness. It is as if only the places touched by the beam truly 'exist.'

You shine the light at your feet. There appears to be a floor. A nameless material, neither concrete nor soil, stretches out there. The sensation transmitted through your soles is certainly that of 'ground,' but no matter how much light you cast upon it, it remains a uniform void, devoid of texture or reflection.

You shine it to the left. Darkness. You shine it to the right. Darkness. You shine it upward. Darkness.

It is the same in every direction, three hundred and sixty degrees around. No sound. No smell. Not even the movement of air. Only the faint electronic hum emitted by the flashlight's bulb reaches Guest's ears.

There is nothing here. No one is here. At least, not within the reach of the light.

Whether to take a step forward or not is entirely up to Guest.