The Wishing Room does not exist in Heliopoli. It does not exist anywhere. The thought of the Wishing Room, the concept, comes from a series of blueprints found in the city, buried and torn. From these can be extracted the design of the room, if not, completely, its function.
The Wishing Room has beige carpeting and beige walls. There are no windows. It is lit with candlelight. There is no furniture. Through the doorway of the Wishing Room, anxieties and worries cannot pass; there is no room for them, although the room is comfortably large. Notes on the blueprints, in that style of handwriting reserved only to architects, hint at this purpose.
There are no walls in the Wishing Room. Each wall is a window, and since the room is situated near the top of a tower, one can feel, when sitting on the floor, as if floating in the clouds, with blue sky just out of reach, touchable.
This dichotomy, whether the room has walls or windows, cannot be solved through the blueprints alone. It seems to be no dichotomy at all, that a technology was sought to make the windows opaque and resemble walls, and make the walls transparent and become windows, through the flipping of a switch. This technology did not exist when Heliopoli was built; it is doubtful that it exists now. As for the room’s doorway, it is not known whether such a thing could ever be made.
The Wishing Room is a wish itself, and simply wishes itself to be.