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The Recalcitrant Vestibule (Part
two)
When I looked around, it was an unmistakable conclusion that the environment
had changed dramatically and permanently beneath our feet. We stood on a
robust field of grass, it was strangely reassuring to be somewhere that felt
natural and familiar. I walked a little bit and found its surface to be
surprisingly soft and forgiving. It seemed to extend far in the distance,
initially. Upon closer examination, I quickly ascertained that this wasn't an
isolated stretch. In the opposing direction, I could plainly see an array of
buildings were set in their place. On the other side, there was a small
cluster of trees, some of which were quite thick. I watched her standing
there somewhat indecisively. She took awhile to ponder what direction to go
in before finally deciding to moves towards the forest. It wasn't
immediately obvious what she hoped to find there, the fauna seemed almost
abandoned and desolate, there were no signs of sentient life, animal or
human.
She walked quickly towards the trees, venturing a few feet inside the
perimeter until she was nearly invisible, peeking out sporadically from
behind one of the thicker trunks. My instincts told me to follow her, though
logic said I should go towards the more populated areas. I was a bit tired
at that point, and it took me a few minutes to catch up to her position and
locate her hiding place. I wondered what her plan might be, and I had little
idea precisely what it might have involved. I finally joined her side and
waited for her nervously. I didn't sense anything had gone astray, but
wondered if we'd arrived at the wrong destination, despite our strenuous
exertion and consuming effort. She appeared to have greater confidence than
I did and stood at the base of the tall tree with an intense resilience
that I didn't expect. She turned her attention to the tree and looked above
past it and gazed into the skies above. I wasn't sure what she was looking
for but she finally reached at a welcoming position, and she announced that
the time had finally arrived.
I wondered what she meant by that pronouncement and waited further
elaboration. She didn't offer anything more at first, her steadfastly
neutral expression didn't give anything away. Motioning for me to move even
closer, she ordered me to follow her and not fall back any further behind
her. I wasn't sure what she was up to and held back a few steps, not wanting
to interfere with her pending project. This wasn't the approach she wanted,
and yelled at me to go in further towards her. I took a few nervous steps
forward but held myself at a remove. This was unacceptable and she made it
obvious when she reached out and grabbed my arm forcefully. She drew me
directly towards her side until I was standing right beside her. She
released her grip somewhat but was still clenching my hand firmly. This was
unnerving and I felt a sudden rush of fear and dread. I asked her if I'd
done something wrong. I though I might have taken us off the path and we'd
somehow found ourselves stranded within another obtuse engagement. This
query seemed strange to her, and seemed to catch her off-guard. I'd
completely missed the point.
She took a deep breath and told me that everything was fine. We were
absolutely in the right place, the path remained open and clear. I hadn't
messed up, despite my lingering fear. She maintained, that as a matter of
fact, my serenity and passivity set a welcome precedent. I'd managed to
successfully extricate us from our dangerous encounter unharmed without
disrupting a critical balance. I hadn't cheated on the way out and had
instead shown an inherent patience and unexpected forbearance she didn't
realize I possessed. This was a relief, but I still wasn't entirely
convinced. It didn't feel like we had arrived, when I looked around, it
seemed like we'd come to a desolate spot that appeared to have been
long-deserted. I expressed my doubts to her, trying to maintain some
objectivity. She nodded her head and disagreed strongly, then reiterated
that everything was indeed going according to plan. To put a finer point on
things, she complimented me; conveying her delayed, empathetic realization
that my inscrutable methodology reminded her of how she approached problems
when she was younger. Except there was one glaring problem: I'd almost
completely forgotten about my manifestly opaque light-distillation machine.
This didn't make a lot of sense; she was the one who held the enigmatic
focused-light machine for the most part. I'd only borrowed it a few times. I
didn't feel like I had any claim to one, and the other device I'd borrowed
from the navigator wasn't mine, either. However, she disagreed with my
position. Carefully, she pulled it out from her cloak and handed it to me.
It wasn't the same one that I remembered, though I thought my recall was
hazy by that point. I wasn't precisely sure of its origins, and surmised
that it might have been something she'd assembled herself especially for me.
Perhaps, she was carefully waiting for the right time; holding onto it until
she was sure that I was ready to take command of my own miniature machine.
This was an interesting, yet unspoken theory. I decided to go along with her
approach and let her place it in my hand tenuously. There was a pronounced
sense of gratitude, I knew she'd given my something unique, and I hoped I
wouldn't squander the opportunity. I stared at the oblique apparatus for a
long time, admiring its solid construction and unmistakable appearance. With
supreme caution, I nervously held it in my hand and found that its smooth
surface was uniformly metallic but lacked the smooth finish of the earlier
machines and wondered if she was giving me an unexpected gift or if it was
something planned all along.
I recognized the basic form immediately but there were some key differences
that stood out. The most prominent element of this particular machine was
immediately thicker and significantly longer. Its structure didn't seem
nearly as powerful or versatile as the earlier devices. When i examined it
closer and held it towards my eyes, It was inherently simplified. It looked
more straightforward and easier to understand than her gadget. It only
contained a single dial, though it had familiar markings, they were faded
and I couldn't read precisely what measurements they indicated. I'd need to
figure these out myself, using a trial-and-error approach, it appeared. I
pulled my fingers gently and slid them across the machine and cautiously
attempted to bring forth a beam of light, but there was no response. I tried
placing it in different positions to little effect.
It seemed that they been sitting there without being touched, remaining
dormant for too long, and there wasn't anything I could do to rouse it from
slumber. I maneuvered it towards the skies, attempting half-heartedly to
collect some residual energy, but there wasn't any indication it had
received any resurgence. I pointed it across the sky and tried to outline
some paths in the skies above, but it was too thick, blocking my view and
getting in the way. I took it down back towards my side and looked to her
for guidance. She stated that she wouldn't be of much help. She explained
that I knew more about the machine than she did. This was puzzling, since
the longer I held it in my hands, the less familiar it seemed to be. I asked
her if she'd made a mistake, and wondered if she'd gotten confused. She
nodded her head, this was no mistake; the machine was putatively mine.
I played around with the machine for awhile longer but there didn't seem to
be any point to it after awhile. I held it up, down and pushed it from side
to side. She looked on, seemingly more frustrated by my lack of progress. I
asked her what I should do next, but she just shrugged her shoulders, and
left me to figure it out myself. I waited for some signal to emanate from
the machine, but its silence was cutting. After several discouraging
attempts to elicit some sign of life, it became obvious that this wasn't the
time or place for exploration. I'd have to wait and would hold onto it for a
later time when I could further examine its workings. Conveying my
appreciation to her for the machine, was complicated, since I'd grown tired
and had enough playing around. I carefully put it in my pocket.
Surprisingly, it seemed to fit perfectly inside, filling the indentation
effortlessly, like it had always been in its holster, patiently awaiting my
command. I was a little confused by its sudden emergence, and subsequent
recalcitrance on its part. However, this unexpected reaction didn't catch
her completely unprepared. She had another surprise awaiting me to
compensate. I didn't really anticipate what it could be until she pulled it
our of her bag.
I was surprised that she held onto it for so long, but it was strange to see
the abandoned form of my first and only attempt at building my own machine.
It was clunky and its pieces had fallen into disrepair. The low-quality glue
I'd used to fasten them had seemingly evaporated and they elements were now
disconnected. I attempted to put them back together, but the resulting mess
was an even bigger mess of wires and buttons, nearly a jumble of a mess. She
encouraged me to take my time and reassemble it, but this proved to be a
frustrating waste of energy. She was desperate to find some answers, and she
had some optimism until I explained that the machine never came close to
functioning. It was a rough attempt at mimicking her devices at best, and
without anything to hold it together, it continually collapsed and fell
apart. I tried wedging it in place to demonstrate what I was attempting, but
it came out backwards and disfigured. I hadn't left any instructions and
would have to go by instinct. However, I'd forgotten the specifics, most of
how I barely assembled the ill-fitting, now irredeemable device was lost to
time. More importantly, it never functioned in the first place. Attempting
to rebuild it completely from memory with no apparent benefit would be a
waste of time and a lost cause.
After expending precious time trying to recreate a rough approximation of
the original construction, I finally decided to give up on it. I handed the
incoherent, non-functional machine's parts back to her and shrugged my
shoulders. This was definitely beyond my current skill-set. It would be best
to focus on more productive aspects, and explore working machines. Trying to
prove that I was competent to that degree would only lead to needless
frustration. Somewhat disappointed but not entirely surprised she'd turned
her attention in the opposing direction, gazing fitfully across the
clearing. She looked towards the arrayed structures over the distance and
pointed in their direction. I couldn't understand her motivation, and
couldn't figure out why she had a desire to explore the deserted buildings.
There was something important within their walls that she wanted to show me.
We walked towards the disheveled arrangement of structures at a remarkably
quick pace. We'd managed to locate a slender partition of additional
inspiration, finding a resource that granted us what amounted to a second
chance. Despite putting up with a long excursion, everything appeared
rejuvenated; infused with abundant, replenished energy. This was strange,
but perhaps a changed outfit could have made a difference. It certainly
didn't take as long as I'd expected for me to grow accustomed to my new
shoes, which became surprisingly comfortable after I broke them in. The
grassy surface gave way to a concrete floor which was smoothly paved over
and offered little in the way of things that would slow us down. I looked
around for signs, but there was nothing visible, the village or town didn't
seem to have a name, and looking above to the skies saw unfamiliar
constellations with unnamed stars.
This made it impossible to know exactly where we were. She seemed to have a
better understanding of where she was headed and moved ahead confidently
towards the arrayed structures. After taking additional steps, the pavement
restructured and we were walking down an actual avenue divided further into
sidewalks and roadways. She told me to stay on the path and I followed her,
carefully keeping myself away from the uneven road. This was easy, since the
sidewalks were relatively clear and smooth, while the roads were rough and
constrained by uneven cobblestones and rough patches. This was strange,
since I didn't notice any vehicles pass us by, whether this was due to the
time of day or the lack of population was unclear, but the deserted silence
emanating from the long street was definitely abnormal.
As we drew closer towards the center of the village, I was surprised by the
individual buildings' erratic construction. Most of the structures displayed
an unexpectedly rough appearance. A majority of the dwellings looked
dilapidated in significant ways, with their rough edges and peeling paint
giving them a sense of being worn-down by time with major flaws. Doors were
hanging loosely, windows weren't shut completely or were crooked and held
into place with nails or even rope. Many of the roofs seemed sunken and
bayed under and a large number of stone walls were bent into odd angles.
Everything seemed to show major signs of wear, which came as a surprise.
Examining the buildings in more detail as we walked closer unfurled
additional mysteries This occurred when I looked into their bent and twisted
windows.
While the majority of them were darkened, I noticed that several of the
dwellings had lights on. Looking closer, I saw some shadowy figures moving
around. I pointed this out to her and wondered if we should knock on their
doors. She answered negatively and decisively; we weren't there to
recklessly interfere with them. Approaching them would unleash trouble we
didn't need. she strongly admonished me to avoid temptation and maintain a
safe remove at all times. I decided not to pry any further and left the
other inhabitants alone. Walking a safe distance from them allowed us to
concentrate fully on the task at hand. Passing over what looked to be
promising dwellings, we reached the opposing edge of the village. There
weren't many options left, and she began moving closer towards them until
she was able to narrow her options. She surveyed them carefully looking for
the correct indicators. After traversing past numerous buildings, she
spotted what seemed like the right spot. It was almost hidden behind another
structure, requiring us to travel a narrow path before discovering the
clandestine building. At long last, it appeared that we'd finally arrived at
the destination,
It was a single-story structure, consisting of concrete bricks, unevenly
stacked in place. It seemed to be hiding from us, there was a single covered
window on its left side. What immediately struck me was a thick, heavy door.
As we approached, I noticed that it lacked a key hole or a handle. It wasn't
immediately obvious how she would open it. There seemed to be no real point
of entry. She looked it over for a minute and tried to ascertain how to get
inside. There were no visible symbols on the doorway, it seemed to have been
sealed in place. She attempted to push, then pull it with her hands but it
didn't budge. She hit it forcefully, trying to loosen it with a powerful
punch, but it remained unmoved, not responding to her efforts. Stepping
back, she tried to view it from another angle, but couldn't quite figure out
how to maneuver past it. She seemed to have given up at first and withdrew
back to its edge, and stood back to get a broader look.
After a few seconds. she walked back in the direction of the forlorn
structure, which was unexpected. I wondered what she was doing, and couldn't
understand what she was expecting to uncover. She motioned for me to join
her, and I was surprised when she walked past the door. I didn't notice at
first, since it was covered by thick brush, but there was a narrow path
along its eastern side. Somehow, she knew it was there, despite its lack of
visibility, and moved ahead almost instinctively. She was almost defiant by
this point - nothing set her way could stop her. Initially, this was a
confounding approach. Everything converged in a manner that should have
dissuaded us from venturing further, but she remained adamant. It wasn't
immediately obvious what she'd find within the deserted, forlorn structure.
It seemed unsteady and neglected, like it had been abandoned for a long
time. I wondered what intrigued her, the structure didn't offer much
promise. I followed her path, somewhat reluctantly and tried to searching
for some signs of potential. There was nothing protruding from its surface;
no doors or windows were present. Despite our strenuous effort, It appeared
that we'd arrived at a dead-end.
However, she stayed resolutely focused on the path ahead; inherently
undaunted by the devious obstacles frustratingly placed in our path. She
maintained her focus despite layers of increasingly thick brush and
intertwined branches that created a seemingly impermeable barrier that stood
in our path, defiantly blocking our way and making it increasing difficult
to navigate and move deeper. However, she didn't surrender and continued
moving steadfastly, confidentially walking towards the rear grounds. It took
more effort than expected to clear out even a short path, and it took much
longer than anticipated. We reached a small clearing that wasn't entirely
open, but offered just enough space that we could stand together. After
another long slog, our feet finally reached the outer territory at back of
the building.
However, there was another significant impediment. The back entrance was
resolutely shut. It was almost completely covered by weeds and there was no
visible way to get inside without pulling them away somehow. She examined it
and began moving her hands, knocking aside the layered branches feverishly.
I watched her surprisingly resilient fingers presiding over the thick brush
almost randomly. Her movements seemed inconsistent, like she was blindly
pulling and throwing the vines until she managed to create a severed point
that could be traversed. She managed to pull the branches off the wall;
almost instinctively uncovered a partial doorway. I joined her efforts and
we worked together to quickly take down the branches. It took a couple a
minutes, but we quickly discovered that the door had become loose from the
overgrowth and was hanging slightly ajar.
Somewhat relieved by her dose of unexpected good fortune, she pushed it open
further, just wide enough that we could enter, passing through safely. After
we finally breached, I took in a deep breath and examined the surroundings.
Unfortunately, we only managed to enter another kind of landing, it was
quite dark. The limited visibility made it difficult to see ahead with much
accuracy. This made it quite difficult to navigate beyond our apparently
blocked-in position, leaving us helplessly stranded, stuck in place. After
an unnerving interruption that dragged on for several unsettling minutes,
her eyes finally adjusted to the darkened surroundings, and mine thankfully
followed suit shortly thereafter. Coming into focus through the darkness, a
subsequent revelation arrived: there was a second locked and heavy door
placed directly ahead, deliberately forestalling our path. My heart sank and
I froze in place. We'd somehow managed to find ourselves trapped between two
doors, apparently marooned again between two opposing worlds.
I examined the impediment and found myself immediately discouraged. This
doorway was equally thick and impenetrable, mirroring the front entrance. At
first, it wasn't immediately obvious how we could proceed, She took a step
closer towards the door and I saw her outline her basic approach, vaguely
constructing her general method. At first, I couldn't understand what she
was doing. It was only after I moved a step closer that the situation
clarified. It wasn't completely visible. but I noticed the outlines of a
lock on the upper-right corner of the secondary door. This was frustrating
to discover, but she looked pleasantly surprised by this development. At
first, I couldn't understand why, but there was something I didn't expect on
her part.
She turned to me and communicating quietly and fleetingly, conveyed a
reassurance and gratitude at our good fortune that I wasn't expecting from
her. She seemed more the type who preferred to work and make her own luck. I
was confused by her sudden change in approach until she pointed to the
sealed, impervious door. She told me she knew the second she saw it that
she'd be able to pass through. The immediately familiar, significantly
age-ravaged lock that we'd managed to locate lent near-certainty that we'd
arrived at the correct location. I wondered what she meant but she answered
by pointing directly at the lock, motioning in a precise manner. Quietly,
without unnecessary fanfare, she pulled out what appeared to be an
inscrutably antique key from her satchel. I was mystified that she didn't
use her laser-machine to open the vestibule; but figured that it likely
remained in dormancy. It likely wouldn't be of much use opening a doorway
into this older, intrinsically dated venue, in any case.
The structure's advanced age and dilapidated state didn't dissuade her, at
all. She forcefully inserted they key until it was fully inserted;
effortlessly connecting with the riveted teeth inside to fit the lock
flawlessly. Its lack of resistance was all the more surprising since the
creaking lock appeared to have sat unused for a long time. It took
surprisingly few twists and a pair of turns before she was able to dislodge
its thin layer accumulated rust. The rivets quickly conceded and opened
partially giving us a partial glimpse into its hidden sanctum. She held the
door in place, and gave it a hard push with her foot, and this seemed to
work. The doorway creaked open further somewhat reluctantly, but finally
gave way enough that we could pass through its divide. It wasn't immediately
apparent exactly what awaited us on the other side, since it was so dark.
However. despite deflating, apprehensive moments with nebulous, intractable
barriers continually thrown in her direction, she found herself thoroughly
vindicated and had tangibly persevered; we'd imminently encounter numerous
unanticipated results of her unyielding efforts.
Before we moved into the structure, she reminded me to move assiduously,
since things might have fallen over or crashed onto the ground, potentially
transforming themselves into deceptively dangerous obstacles. I noticed that
there were no lights and the near complete darkness made it difficult to see
ahead. I stood at the edge of the doorway, my feet firmly planted on its
landing and waited for her to forge ahead. She took a minute but couldn't
really do much, either. After a minute or so concentrating, she said that
something inside the room had refreshed her memory.
She stepped inside and turned towards the left and vanished into the
darkness. I heard some odd noises that resembled loud clicking, then lever
grinding onto each other. It seemed that the majority spun in place for a
few moments, then exhausted their residual energy, coming to a quick halt. I
resigned myself to the fruitless task, observing somewhat helplessly, but
she continued her examinations, attempting repeatedly to uncover some
missing spark. She didn't give up until finally something took hold. At
first, it only let out a small click, but it seemed to fall into place with
more consistency. In a few seconds, a noticed something light-up and then
begin to glow, somehow, she'd managed to illuminate the surroundings with a
small bulb. It wasn't particularly bright but gave off enough energy that I
could make out the surroundings, however dimly.
I quickly realized that the room was much larger than anticipated, the bulb
only managed to tentatively light the nearby section, leaving the remainder
shrouded. This was more than enough to reveal a long table set alongside the
left wall. Stepping closer, I noticed an array of different objects set on
its surface. It wasn't immediately cleat what they were or how they
functioned. Examining them closely gave me some clues. Many of them
consisted of somehow familiar forms, though they were much rougher than I
anticipated. It looked like many of them were constructed from divergent
parts, which were then hastily taped or haphazardly glued together. Many of
them lacked a glowing finish but were still recognizable; retaining a
signature handiwork that was unique. Each machine seemed like it was an
elaborate experiment, representing a complicated mechanical puzzle that was
pieced together by hand.
It wasn't immediately clear that all of them functioned, despite their
longevity. I couldn't figure out how some of the devices were constructed or
what purpose they might have enabled. They remained stoic and silent, giving
scant elaboration to their methodology. Lying on the table in their dormant
state, untouched for years, they offered little insight as to their
function. I was tempted to pick one up and examine it more thoroughly, the
assembled machines looked extremely fragile, and it wasn't cleat if they'd
survive any movement. Using my intuition, I deduced that these might be
earlier forms of the machines, and wondered if any of them might be of use
in reviving our devices from stasis. I turned to her and looked for some
guidance as to their clouded origin and possible assistance. She nodded her
head negatively, and expressed an unexpectedly strong degree of frustration
combined with a palpable disappointment with me. I was focused on the wrong
area. From her perspective, I was wasting time and energy; I'd lost focus
and was wasting my time worrying about old junk.
Her critique was perplexing and its firmness caught me unprepared; I
wondered what I'd done incorrectly. I looked at the machines again and
remained intrigued by their mysterious appearance; I wondered what they
might hold, deeply hidden beneath their surface before quickly deciding to
give them a second-look. I walked a step closer and kneeled downward for a
closer inspection. I noticed that the markings weren't printed, instead hand
drawn, their surfaces were stitched together, the seams still visible. I
rolled my finger over one of them very lightly to remove the thick layer of
dust, and revealed two letters resembled an illegible signature, though it
might have been two remaining letters that remained after the rest had
mostly faded from sight. I couldn't be entirely sure. The combination of
those additional clues didn't offer any significant additional insight. I
stood up, turned around, faced her and shrugged my shoulders. I'd looked at
them carefully and thoroughly; limited to using my eyes but still couldn't
see what aspect I might have hastily glossed over impatiently.
She appeared to have lost her residing patience; and didn't welcome my
somewhat meek, defensive explanation. Deciding to move things along walked
ahead of me and looked above the table, beyond it surface and pointed
towards the wall behind it. Taking a few seconds before it became obvious,
once I recognized its presence, I couldn't ignore its appearance. Residing
just above the cluttered, uncoordinated assemblage of machines. It seemed to
revel in effortlessly dominating the unresponsive, partially assembled
pieces and sitting passively far above the mess, with a satisfying veneer of
superiority. I was surprised to see a large panel, implanted with almost
clandestine veracity. It sat nearly flush with the surface and didn't
feature the usual protrusions and levers. Instead. there were two flat
buttons inside one red, and one green. She pointed these out to me, and
advised me to look more carefully in the future. She pushed the green button
and within seconds, there was a sudden burst of light from above, hanging
from the ceiling. This illuminated the entire room brightly and in sharp
relief. I gazed towards the other walls and was immediately startled by what
awaited us, standing patiently against the opposing side of the
instantaneously enlarged room.
She walked across the freshly-lit room with rejuvenated confidence; moving
briskly until she was standing in front of the disorganized array and could
commence observation. To avoid distraction, she ordered this task to be
performed in near-total silence on both our parts. She remarked that it was
actually in the same order she remembered but found herself perplexed by its
non-consecutive approach. I didn't understand what she meant until I moved
closer. I realized that the objects that had drawn her attention were
actually sheets of canvas. They'd been placed haphazardly and consisted of
various sizes and shapes. The ones that were largest were positioned towards
the back, while smaller pallets remained out front. As I drew near, she held
her hand out, warning me to keep distance.
She began to examine them, there was a noticeable sense of nostalgia and
remembrance coming from her direction. She couldn't deny there was an
unspoken attachment, but she demurred when I pressed for detail. Beginning
the process of rifling through them seemed to unravel distant, unresolved
wounds and memories. I watched from a distance as pulled them out
individually, taking stock of them one at a time. Some of them seemed to
consist of lightly-sketched outlines, partially complete drawings. Others
resembled elaborate instructions, some complete with key points. Scattered
illustrations of fantastical machines showcased a versatile hand. Lacking
discipline, these didn't seem entirely practical, at least from my limited
perspective. There were also enlarged maps, complete and redolent with
carefully drawn lines with paths, waypoints and symbols that pointed the way
to innumerable unknown places.
She moved through the pictures quickly, cataloging each one from memory
before placing each back into its correct order. As she moved towards the
back, more complication renderings began to emerge. These appeared to be
elaborate renderings and illustrations of places the artist might have
visited. We took them all in breathlessly, unprepared for the volume and
quality of the works. What was most striking to me was the consistency of
tone and composition; I found them immediately familiar yet alien in scope
despite the glaring omission of any kind of signature, or even initials. It
seemed whoever designed this varied lot was humble to a fault, and
steadfastly avoided taking credit. I wanted to ask if she knew who'd managed
to create such an elaborate portfolio but decided it was better to allow the
artist to remain unknown, letting creativity flow naturally, with their
intuition leading the way.
She examined each of the canvases carefully, happy that they'd survived
intact for such an extended period. Watching her go through the drawings and
paintings was inspiring but I couldn't precisely infer what her connection
to them might have been. She took the measure of their contents before
placing them undisturbed, back on the ground. I noticed her carefully making
mental notes but she didn't share any of those significant details with me
beyond the visible surfaces. It was strange that she kept so much unspoken,
but somehow unsurprising. Apparently, there was much more to these than she
let on, but I surmised she'd made a solemn promise to keep the majority of
their secrets in shadows, away from everyone. I was comparatively lucky that
she trusted me enough to share their existence and composition, revealing
anything further would break her unspoken contract. I knew not to pry
further and determined not to interject, allowed her the space she required.
She was pleased that I was able to humbly back away and thanked me for my
understanding. She resumed cataloging the paintings and built an impressive
field of vision, reinforced with extensive contemplation and memorization.
After awhile she moved to the farthest edge where a small number of canvas
sheets was pointed backward, their surface modestly facing to the perimeter
wall. I wondered what secrets these pieces might contain when she turned
them over. I asked her what they were hiding. Slowly, she complied with my
inquiry but did so with an unexplained reluctance. At first, I couldn't
understand why those particular compositions weren't forthcoming but was
surprised to discover that the majority of them were blank. There was a
large number of empty sheets and they'd managed to remain nearly
unblemished, aside from scabs and stray markings at their perimeter edges. I
couldn't help but wonder why so much had seemingly been left unfinished,
after so much time had elapsed. She offered no answers on this front and
instead redirected her attention, posing an unexpected query in my
direction. She unexpectedly asked me what size I wanted to use.
I hadn't anticipated taking up the mantle myself and was initially confused as
to how to proceed. I looked over the gathered canvas sheets and couldn't
decide which one would be most appropriate. Obviously lacking inherent skill
or resplendent talent, I protested her duplicitous maneuver at first. It
seemed like an elaborate trick on her part. In order to get out of the trap,
I looked away back towards the machines. I felt that I was better suited to
them and pointed out my severe shortage of experience. I resisted, further
noting that I'd probably waste the opportunity and leave a residue of
disconnected, likely ugly scrawling. She heard me bur dismissed my
concerns, allowing that I really needed was expectant permission, and she
added, the freedom and flexibility to explore unencumbered. She countered
that she'd already factored in a few misfires.
Repeating her question with added insistence, she indicated that refusal on
my part wasn't an option. Seeing that I had little choice in the matter, I
decided on the path where I would do the least damage, and pointed towards
the smallest canvas I could find. She picked it up and its imperfections
were reassuring. It was bent inward towards the center and had noticeable
yellowing on its edges, making it an appropriately flaws venue for
experimentation. She retrieved the blank canvas from the ground and told me
to hold onto it, and ordered me not to attempt any alterations, until it was
ready. I wondered what she had planned until she was able to dislodge an
easel from behind the accumulated canvases. She quickly carried it to the
center of the room where she unfolded it, then placed the canvas in its
center where it sat with surprising resilience. Subsequently returning
towards empty vessels, she managed to locate a nearby box that contained a
number of brushes. Quickly searching through the jumbled instruments, she
located one that was suited to me. It was a dark gray, relatively short and
narrow with a generous tip to its head. She generously handed it to me, but
told me not to rush into things; I still needed further instructions.
I stood impassively looking at the surface of the downscaled canvas. I was
nervously anticipating the project ahead but wondered if I was up to the
task. Standing directly in front of me and her voice steadied as she began
offering advice and suggestions. Most importantly, there was the matter of
the brush. She told me to hold it up and examine it carefully. I looked at
it and was surprised that it was simple and straightforward, but I would
start with that one. There was only a single neutral color, which would more
than suffice, offering me plenty of freedom without needless distraction.
I'd need to practice my strokes, but this brush was easy enough to master,
bridging ease of use and flexibility, the thickness depended on how long I
kept it submerged in the paint, and how deeply I set it. This technique
might take a few strokes to master, and she suggested I make a background
which would be easier to correct or paint over. She added another useful
detail, it was always a good idea to keep in mind that the brush did not
have an eraser. I'd need to ponder and plan what I was going to draw ahead
of time, or find myself stuck with the tedium of manually fixing mistakes.
She reassured me that my designs were my own, she wouldn't interfere. The
painting could be as elaborate or simple as I desired. The last request she
said was to try not to make a mess, and stay within the confines of the
small surface I'd allotted myself. I should remain careful not to drip any
paint onto the ground. While she was lecturing me, something strange
occurred. I found myself gazing into the canvas, which appeared to grow
larger with each passing second. Before I realized what was happening, I
began to feel overwhelmed by its scope. My fear intensified as it enlarged
itself to blot out the rest of the room.
The blank slate overcame my field of vision and I began to feel frightened
by its intimidating presence that increased with each passing second. By the
time she gave me permission to begin my first composition, I found myself
paralyzed by fear. I froze in place, as the empty space predominated, then
subsequently played another trick on me. It seemed to morph in front of me,
and I saw its seemingly endless expanse of unfilled white space transform
into an unexpectedly threatening form that seemed to fill the entire room.
Without realizing what was happening, I found myself staring into the
clenched teeth and unforgiving jaws of a different kind of monster. It stood
in silent opposition, daring me to make a move, striking a ferocious pose
that I was unable to overcome. I stood with the brush dangling at my side,
and couldn't bring myself to fight back. I needed to take a step back and
survey the situation, but found myself retreating from it, until I knelt
down, ensconced in a defensive crouch.
Her enthusiasm waned quickly as she observed me struggle to make even the
smallest mark on the canvas. She noticed I was in a kind of ball and
wondered out loud if she'd taken the wrong approach. She was puzzled, this
wasn't the response she was expecting. She walked past the canvas and knelt
down beside me. She told me I'd somehow managed to miss the point for which
she apologized. She advised me not to perceive the canvas as another enemy
that needed conquering, but instead view it as a large window that I could
open. The window could lead me anywhere I wanted, the destination was up to
me. She told me to close my eyes and change perceptions. It took awhile for
her advice to take hold but eventually, she was able to break through my
defensiveness. I blinked open carefully and noticed the canvas had returned
to normal scale, having shrunk down to an approachable size.
I nervously stood, titled my head back to a level position, and worked up
the courage to approach the blank sheet carefully. I was still afraid of
rousing an unpleasant perspective from within. I resolutely decided not to
allow a repeated burst of irrational fear stand in my way. It seemed to have
changed its disposition and seemed cooperative as I looked it over warily. I
wasn't entirely convinced and doubted I'd be able to create something that
would emerge from the apprehensive nothing, but she retained a strong
resolve. She reminded me that she'd travelled a long way and jumped over
significant hurdles to arrive at that point. This reinforced my motivation,
paying her back fore her efforts was the least I could do. I steeled myself
for the task ahead, and raised my brush towards the canvas. I'd had more
than enough time to contemplate what I would draw, now I only had to cross
the threshold. Wetting then raising the brush with an improved outlook, I
took a deep breath, belatedly realizing the true purpose that had brought us
to that isolated point. It had taken vastly more effort than I could have
anticipated, but the intractable process solidified my decision. After
encountering discordant thoughts alongside accompanying consternation, the
resulting serenity clarified my clouded perspective. I knew precisely what
needed to be painted.
- Michael Palisano
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