The room was large and austere. The walls were pale wood; perhaps pine, with black curtains obscuring sections. A lattice of black metal pipes ran across the ceiling, with stage lights hung in various sections. Pieces of set from a play long ago performed were standing against the walls, growing dusty and faded as they eked out the last of their existence.
A pair of double doors was firmly planted at one of the walls. It was not at the 'back' of the room; there was no 'back'. The room was a square. A green EXIT sign hung above it, flickering as the light bulb inside of it came to life for brief spurts before settling back down into death. The doors could not be at the back of the room, but they could be described as opposite to the large stage across the room.
It took up an entire wall, extending ten meters into empty space. The wooden planks composing the stage were old, but not quite as musty as one would have thought. They weren't maintained; it was simply through pure luck that the boards were in as a condition as they were.
In addition to the green exit light, several long, florescent tubes on the ceiling granted the room a scant amount of light. Their incandescence was marred from fourteen years of repeated use, the heat staining the glass until the light it emitted was no longer white but a musty, diseased yellow.
The only pieces of furniture in the room were two metal folding chairs. One sat in the center of the room, a stage light directly above it. The other was on the stage, framed by the dark curtains on either side. This was a world without much light, without much spirit, and without much to give it any substance at all. Had there been no world outside those double doors, one would never have been any the wiser.
There was a pop as one of the lights attached to an unseen structure above the stage sparked into life. It cast a wide circle of light over the girl beneath it, hiding her eyes under the shadow of her bangs while illuminating the light yellow sundress she was wearing. The light washed out the red color of her hair, muting it to a lighter tone. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, feet solidly planted on the ground. Asuka was posed perfectly for a picture that would never be taken.
The chair in the center of the room was occupied as well. There was no light over this one. The tarnished florescent tubing on the ceiling served to light the occupant's white shirt and dark pants. His eyes were shut, his head drooping forward as if he were sleeping. His hands hung loosely between his legs, his forearms resting on his thighs. The boy's short, straight brown hair fell over his eyes.
Had the world continued the way it was, the boy would have remained in his chair, blissfully ignorant of the reality around him. He would never become self-aware, only remaining part of a larger being that the human mind could never hope to comprehend, never even knowing his own name.
A faint outline, a specter, appeared in the room. Her scarlet eyes and light azure hair stood out in her silhouette as she hovered in front of the boy in the chair. She lightly reached out and brushed a finger against his forehead.
Shinji's eyes snapped open.