All music stopped and the lights went off. –
Like a musical journey, only in the dark. I guess it was a trick.
There is this new colour, you know? – Tell me. –
It is so black that everything you paint just disappears. They call it
“Vantablack”. – Like Pidgin-English “I want-a black-a colour to
paint-a my room”? – Ha, yes, you got it.
It is said to be the blackest material ever created by man. –
And you say that’s why it is so dark in here? –
Maybe, I don’t know. Just thinking out loud. This colour is said to
absorb all light around it. – You mean, creating a black hole? –
Well, it takes away any spatial sense so it actually completely
swallows a whole dimension. – In the flat field.
As we did not see a thing, we had to feel our way in. – Like playing
that game, blind man’s buff. – Someone seems to have turned
off the lights when the music was over. – And no one was there. –
I wish I knew where all the people we heard from above went.–
Maybe they were never here. And the sound was played from a tape
to lure us in. – Who is “they”? –
I don’t know yet. Wait. We’ll see. – But I don’t see a thing.
Do you know what we’d be looking at if we were able to see? –
Something must be in here, because you can hear it when you
move around. – You mean you feel it, when you walk into it. –
You’re so funny.
No, what I’m talking about is called echolocation. –
That sounds great, but you too almost fell, I heard it. –
No, I let myself fall into something, it’s true. The moment I started
walking backwards as I reached a wall going ahead. –
Yeah, move your head and, ah, your ass will follow, so to speak. –
No, I actually did not fall, I just sat down, as this was,
well, some sort of chair, but with a different angle to the back
that raised no questions for me, just a comfortable place for my
posture to relax in. –
Sounds good to me. – But wait, that wasn’t all. – Go on. –
The surface was true velvet, soft as hell. – Oh. Good for you.
I hung on to another kind of thing. And mine was high. –
On hope I guess? – I had high hopes indeed, since when I bumped
into this box on legs it seemed to have spiritual content. –
Oh, a bar? – Almost. I tried to open it and it turned out to be a
secretary of some sort. A desk. – A table for black mail. –
That’s the spirit. – But lost the feeling.
I agree. – It was a thing you would expect in a monastery, so regal
and astute. – I’ve been waiting for a guide to come along. –
