Over the next hour, the man explored his room. He thought he had the disposal chute figured out, and the other chute was full of puzzles. It had provided him with a lunch after he started to test the controls. He was very surprised the food was of such high quality, very tasty, though he didn't recognize the various fruits at all. The most amazing thing about the room was that there were no doors or windows. The walls and floor felt like highly polished stone. How did he get in here? He assumed there was a secret entrance. Perhaps in the roof... Turning, he gasped in surprise. In the center of the room stood a young, beautiful woman, wearing a white robe tied with a golden rope. Her feet were bare, the robe not reaching her ankles, and she wore no veil. Recognition set in. "You!" he shouted."Yes, it's me. Hello, Mr. Ata."A brief look of shock appeared on the man's face. "You know my name?" Yes. I'll get right to the point. I want to offer you the possibility for a trip back to where. According to the note, the museum found the contents of the journal inappropriate for either display or academic study.The letter ended with a brief but firm postscript that the museum in question wanted to avoid any notoriety that might come with the publication of this journal. Furthermore, with their delivery of the package to its rightful owner, the firm's obligation to any involved party was now ended.The letter raised far more questions than it answered. Who wrote the diary and when? Who donated it to the museum and how were they related to me? What museum would not want an original document from probably the 19th century, and how could a diary possibly be 'inappropriate for either display or study'?The best place to start answering these questions it seemed was in the leather-bound volume laying on my table and with a fair amount of excitement and curiosity I unbuckled the straps and opened the cover.I was struck immediately by the picture of the young woman expertly inked.
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