A Room,
Unbounded
I have no idea how I chanced upon
this room. It was after many hours of walking that I came face to face with the
tall, heavy-set door standing slightly ajar, the colour of dense tissue on an
x-ray.
A tentative push revealed it was
easier to move than anticipated and it opened with one smooth, continuous
motion in an elegant arc. It uncovered a stark and cold light that bathed the
entire room. Several windows at the far side shone with such ferocity that I couldn’t
see anything beyond them. While my eyes adjusted, I followed the light as it
traced the hard edges of a huge cluster of metallic machinery that ran from the
back of the room, into the centre.
The machinery occupied a low height
toward the windows, but escalated to a height of a dozen feet in the centre of
the room, its peak formed by a huge funnel that towered above me. My glance
continued upwards to note that no ceiling was visible since the room
disappeared out of sight on the vertical plane and I shuddered at the prospect
of an infinite regress.
Just then, above the low hum of
technology, I heard the clear, reverberating sound of a chair scrape. My gaze
darted down and to the right to meet a startlingly present figure, seated upon
a chair of the same colour as the door and the funnel and every other single
thing in this room, picked out in this light that paradoxically gave everything
a wan pallor in its piercing intensity.
He sat facing the funnel, leaning
forward to rest his elbows on his knees in a display of resigned weariness. He
looked deep into the metal surface of the funnel and beyond it. No doubt his
reflection was the only point of interest in this room, and he scoured it for
something that couldn’t be returned by this passive projection that only
multiplied his evident sadness.
He was old – over 70 at least –
with a scattering of white hair topped by a bald crown, his face framed by a
surprisingly neat and clean white beard. He wore humble clothes of brown and
blue that hung loosely around his body and gathered at his unshod feet.
I fell still and felt my hands
perspire as his head slowly turned to look at me. The eyes were heavy and his
movements were painfully drawn out, as if he hadn’t moved in years and feared
he may shatter. His eyes met mine and I saw no glimmer of recognition, no spark
of surprise, nor even a hint of curiosity. I was merely there, human or not.
As soon as his head completed its
90° turn, it began its return journey. No pause, just a slow sweep to look at
me, and a slow sweep back to rest at the funnel. He clasped his hands and
settled back into the position he had held before I arrived.
I jumped at the sudden, shrill sound
that filled the room. An alarm rang on the opposite wall, emanating from a
sinister black cube that hung above another door, mirroring the one I had
entered through. It was unmistakably a digital sound – emitted through speakers
– but, oddly, it mimicked an old-fashioned metal bell alarm. I looked at the
man to see how he would react.
He responded in much the same way
as he had responded to my entrance; after a small delay, his head slowly swept
round to meet the alarm before it began its return to rest at the funnel. The
alarm continued to sound and, just as I began to wonder what it was in aid of,
the man abruptly began to stand. Still staring ahead, he clambered to his feet
and reached out to grip a thin metal ladder that ran to the top of the funnel.
He tentatively pressed his right
foot into the first rung and, with a small exertion of effort, pulled himself
up into a slow ascent. I watched with curious amusement until it became evident
what the purpose of this exercise was.
The man’s feet reached the top few
rungs of the ladder and he paused. Leaning slightly forward to maintain his
grip, the man’s head began that familiar sweep. Again, his eyes turned to meet
mine but, in contrast to the previous occasion, he stopped to look.
He maintained eye contact up until
the very moment that he toppled forlornly into the funnel.
Before I had chance to move, the
door opposite me swung open with a loud boom. To my surprise, another man, clad
in very similar clothing, entered through the doorway. He looked nervous, and a
lot younger than the previous man. Without acknowledging my presence, he
sheepishly walked across the room to take his place in the recently vacated
chair.
He sat down, toying with the edges
of his sleeves, and stared into the pristine surface of the funnel.
