THE BEST GAME SHOW EVER
BOOK SIX — THE DOOR WORKS BOTH WAYS
A new episode. October 2, 2026.
A NOTE FROM PRODUCTION
Dustin,
We have been informed that members of the public may now encounter this program.
Sales called this expansion.
Smart Dustin Legal called it discoverability.
Janet asked whether we had cleaned the bathroom.
We had not.
The following episode began while those three departments were still arguing.
— Production
P.S. Nobody was required to remain in position between books.
P.P.S. Frank would like back pay for doing so voluntarily.
CHAPTER ONE — PREVIOUSLY
The studio lights came up.
A voice said:
“Previously, on The Best Game Show Ever—”
“No,” said Janet.
The lights stayed up.
“We have five books,” said Showrunner. “People need context.”
“Do they?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
Showrunner looked at the stage.
Greg was trying to roll an enormous purple hoop through a rectangular doorway.
It was stuck.
“No,” Showrunner admitted. “Probably not for this.”
CHAPTER TWO — DELIVERY
The hoop had arrived in three boxes.
One said PORTAL.
One said BASE.
The third said SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED, which Dustin would have regarded as a personal attack had he been responsible for assembly.
He wasn't.
Greg had signed for it.
“Why?” asked Janet.
“They asked whether I could accept a portal.”
“And?”
“I didn't want to close that door.”
Janet looked at the hoop blocking the door.
“Excellent work.”
Behind Greg, a delivery driver waited with a clipboard.
“It's scenery,” she said.
Greg turned.
“I know.”
“You asked if it needed a destination address.”
“For the paperwork.”
She held out the clipboard.
He signed SCENERY.
CHAPTER THREE — THE RETURN
Gary found Dustin in the audience.
No dramatic entrance.
No retrospective montage.
Dustin had sat down.
Gary raised the camera a little.
Dustin raised one finger.
Not that finger.
The other one.
“One question,” he said.
Showrunner came over.
“What?”
“Does it work?”
Everybody looked at the hoop.
Greg was still behind it.
“Define work,” said Sales.
Dustin leaned back.
“Oh, we're fucked.”
CHAPTER FOUR — A PERSON
Someone appeared at the entrance.
A woman in a gray coat.
Not a green jacket.
Production checked twice, then felt ashamed of itself.
“Is this where the show is?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Janet.
“Do I need a ticket?”
“No.”
“Do I need to know what's happened?”
Behind Janet, the hoop made a noise like a washing machine falling down one stair.
“No,” Janet said. “We'd never let anyone in.”
The woman stepped inside.
“My friend sent me a link.”
Sales emerged holding a tablet.
“Which friend, and would you describe yourself as—”
Janet put the spoon across his path.
He stopped.
The woman looked at the spoon.
“Is that important?”
“Right now, yes.”
CHAPTER FIVE — PORTAL SPECIFICATIONS
The portal was twelve feet tall, purple, and connected to a normal extension cord.
Greg switched it on.
Lights traveled around the edge.
A speaker said:
WELCOME TO THE FUTURE OF GOING OVER THERE.
Chad stood on the left.
Mara stood on the right.
Chad walked through.
He arrived beside Mara.
The audience applauded.
Gary kept the whole thing in a wide shot.
“You walked,” Mara said.
“Fast, though.”
“It was four feet.”
“Imagine the scale.”
She walked back through.
The speaker said:
WELCOME TO THE FUTURE OF GOING OVER THERE.
“Same future,” said Mara. “Other direction.”
Smart Dustin wrote down the product's first verified capability.
PASSABLE.
CHAPTER SIX — THE FIRST QUESTION
The woman in the gray coat sat beside Frank.
“Who's winning?” she whispered.
“I am.”
“What's the game?”
“They haven't said.”
“How are you winning?”
“Started early.”
The scoreboard awarded Frank four points.
The woman looked at him.
He shrugged.
Janet saw the adjustment from across the room.
“Oh, come the fuck on.”
The woman smiled for the first time.
CHAPTER SEVEN — THE DEMONSTRATION
Showrunner needed a game.
The stage had a portal, a table, two glasses of water, and Greg.
This was more equipment than many successful programs had started with.
“Carry a full glass through the portal without spilling it.”
“Is there a prize?” asked Chad.
“Water.”
“Already got water.”
“Then you're ahead.”
Greg reached for a glass.
Showrunner held up a hand.
“The portal will make the journey effortless.”
Greg stopped.
Looked at the glass.
Looked at the four feet of floor.
“Then why am I carrying it?”
Somewhere in the audience, Dustin laughed.
Showrunner heard it and abandoned the next two sentences on his cue card.
“Fair question.”
CHAPTER EIGHT — THE PLAN
Smart Dustin proposed a conveyor.
Sales proposed a premium conveyor.
Greg proposed putting the glasses on Rocket.
Rocket declined by leaving with the ball.
Dumb Dustin picked up one glass and carried it to the woman in the gray coat.
“Want water?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He handed it to her.
Then he returned for the second glass.
Janet took it.
The table was empty.
The portal continued glowing.
Showrunner checked his cue card.
Both objectives had technically been completed except for the objective he had actually announced.
“That didn't use the portal,” he said.
Dumb Dustin looked at it.
“Didn't need over there.”
CHAPTER NINE — COMMERCIAL BREAK
Introducing OVER THERE™.
Have you ever been somewhere and noticed somewhere else?
OVER THERE™ offers a complete range of solutions for the discerning person currently located here.
Choose from:
Walking.
Asking somebody to pass it.
Discovering you didn't want it that much.
And now, for a limited time:
A very expensive purple hoop.
OVER THERE™.
The destination is real. The distinction is billable.
Smart Dustin Legal entered the booth.
“We have no billable distinction.”
Sales muted his microphone.
His objections continued visually.
CHAPTER TEN — GREG DOES NOT FIND AN OCTOPUS
Greg came down from the roof.
“Nothing unusual,” he said.
“Were you looking for something?” asked Rumi.
“I was asked whether the portal could reach the bottom of the ocean.”
“And you checked the roof?”
“It's where my access works.”
Rumi considered this.
“What did you find?”
“The roof.”
“Anything else?”
“A normal amount of sky.”
She moved her bag off the chair beside her.
Greg sat down.
For once, nobody awarded him a point for producing an accurate sentence.
He seemed pleased to sit there anyway.
CHAPTER ELEVEN — THE COAT
The woman had kept her coat on.
Gary noticed because the microphone cable on his camera had caught the back of it.
“Sorry,” he said.
He unhooked the cable.
“Does everyone here have a story?” she asked.
“Probably.”
“Are you going to ask mine?”
Gary glanced toward Showrunner.
Showrunner was attempting to persuade the portal's speaker to stop welcoming an empty stage to the future.
“No,” Gary said.
The woman took a drink.
After a while she said, “I've got twenty minutes.”
“All right.”
“My friend said this was funny.”
Gary looked at the hoop.
It announced the future again.
“Your friend owes you a few minutes.”
She laughed.
He did not ask what she needed to do afterward.
CHAPTER TWELVE — THE EXIT INTERVIEW
Twenty minutes later, the woman stood.
Sales intercepted her with the tablet.
“Before you go, we'd love to understand—”
“I'm going,” she said.
“Of course. Just one quick—”
The spoon appeared.
Sales stepped aside.
Mrs. Elm was standing near the door, reading the return label on the portal box.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Goodnight.”
That was the entire interview.
The woman walked out.
Nobody followed her with a camera.
Nobody gave her homework.
The door closed normally.
Greg examined it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN — IT WAS ALREADY INSTALLED
“It goes both ways,” Greg reported.
Showrunner looked up.
“The portal?”
“The door.”
“Yes, Greg.”
“People can come in.”
“Yes.”
“And leave.”
“Yes.”
Greg looked from the ordinary door to the enormous illuminated hoop.
He did a small amount of arithmetic with his face.
Janet watched him finish.
“Don't tell Sales.”
Too late.
Sales had crossed out PORTAL on the brochure.
Underneath it he wrote:
DOOR PRO.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN — RETURNS
The delivery driver came back for her trolley.
Nobody had remembered she was coming back.
She had.
That was sufficient.
“Any trouble?” she asked.
“It works as scenery,” said Greg.
“That's what you ordered.”
“And as a hole,” said Chad.
“That's included.”
Showrunner looked at the portal.
It was ridiculous.
It had not improved transport, paid anybody's bills, or produced a viable alternative to the front door.
A purple light traveled around its circumference.
Frank walked through carrying a bag of pretzels.
The speaker welcomed him to the future.
He nodded.
“We'll keep it,” said Showrunner.
The driver took the trolley.
Janet helped her through the actual doorway.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN — THE PART THAT WORKED
Dustin was still in his seat.
Showrunner came over.
“Well?”
“The portal's bullshit.”
“Yes.”
Dustin looked toward the empty seat beside Frank.
“She seemed to have a good time.”
“I think so.”
“Did you get her name?”
“No.”
They sat with this for a moment.
Onstage, Janet was drinking the water she'd been given.
Greg and Rumi were arguing about whether a normal amount of sky varied by floor.
Mara had found the portal's volume control.
The future became substantially quieter.
Dustin smiled.
Showrunner left the next question unasked.
EPILOGUE — NO RECAP
Gary filmed the empty seat for three seconds.
Then he turned the camera toward Janet.
“Don't,” she said.
He turned it away.
Frank received another point.
There was no reaction from Janet.
Gary slowly turned back.
She was putting on her coat.
“You're not going to appeal?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“My bus.”
She placed the spoon on the table.
Walked past the portal.
Opened the door.
Left.
The scoreboard waited.
For the first time all evening, it had nothing useful to add.
Gary put the camera down.
From the stage, very quietly:
WELCOME TO THE FUTURE OF GOING OVER THERE.
“Oh, shut up,” said Frank.