This new cabin seems to be the complete opposite of the previous one. The sleek modern decor gives way to dust and rotting wood. In the distance, you hear the sound of children playing, or perhaps arguing. You ignore it and hurry onward towards the door at the end of the cart, which seems from a distance to glimmer when it catches the light.
Near the end of the cart, as you approach the door, you can see what looks like a playground sandbox. In its center is a simple doll, crudely made of sawdust and whalebone. Next to the doll, gleaming, lies a surgeon's scalpel.
Nothing of interest, you decide, and turn towards the silver door. There's no handle or motion sensor on it that you can see, just a smooth polished surface that reflects your own haggard face back at you. Not a door at all, you realize, but a mirror. It's floating a few centimetres off the ground, beautiful flower designs carved into the delicate metallic frame. You reach out and trace your fingers lightly across the intricate markings. One of the flowers catches your eye - you're no botanist, but you think you recognize the uniquely shaped petals of a laceleaf. There's a small hole in its center, barely large enough to fit your pinky finger. You could try inserting something, but what?
You think about your new predicament, wondering if you should just turn back.

You're not sure how long you sit there, staring at the mirror, trying to think of a solution. You've tried all the logical options already - forcing the scalpel through the hole, inserting the doll's arm - you even tried sticking your own finger in, and were rewarded only with a very sore pinky (once you managed to dislodge it). Absentmindedly, you pick up the doll, tossing it from one hand to the other as you continue to wrack your brain for answers. As the doll lands face down in your palm, you pause. Did you feel something shift under the coarse sackcloth? You life the doll's chest to your ear, and you feel it again - the rhythmic thumping of a beating heart. You reach for the scalpel.
The little wooden heart slides easily into the hole, and as it does the heart-shaped petals of the laceleaf close over it. The surface of the mirror shifts, seems to liquify. The silver slides harmlessly around your fingers when you touch it, and you can catch glimpses of another train car on the other side.