11 - Escape
Escape
“Welcome to the exhibit!” the egg-like man announces. “We’re so happy you could join us on this very special day. I trust everyone has their tickets?”
A murmur passes through the crowd as they raise their stamped hands into the air. The lights dim as the hands fall.
“Excellent!” the man booms. He is not wearing a microphone, yet his voice shakes the room. A spotlight follows him. His bald head is almost blinding.
“Behind me, and behind this curtain,” the man gestures as he walks “lies a very special treat. Something you’ve never seen before; I guarantee it.” He flashes a disturbingly wide grin at the audience. His teeth are perfect, not a blemish to be found. He raises his left hand and a second spotlight illuminates a display to his left. “It was recovered by a recent deep ocean expedition. There the crew deployed a specialized container designed to simulate the pressure and temperature of the ocean floor.” The miniature replica to his left reenacts this process, silently, slowly, precisely. The audience grows impatient; the silence is pierced by the faint rustling of clothes as people shift and stir, waiting. At last the tiny container is replaced within the replica and the spotlight dims, then vanishes.
The man lowers his left hand. He had not moved, remaining perfectly still during the process. Now, he continues. “However!” his deafening voice shatters the stifling silence “You did not come here to see a replica reenact the moment of capture, you came here to see the discovery.” The audience murmurs and leans in. The man raises his right hand, adjusts his deep purple bow tie, then seamlessly drops into a deep sweeping bow as the curtain falls to the ground. The audience gasps, then murmurs. The container is not transparent. The man chuckles, a deep rumbling sound. “Fear not, you’ve not been deceived. You have not come to see a container nor is that what we intend to show you. ‘Twas but a small joke.” The audience breathes a sigh of relief. Some even chuckle lightly.
“You have come for the experience of a lifetime.” The audience is at attention. “You have come for a first. You have come…” the man pauses as he slowly strolls to his right. A third spotlight reveals a large lever. “...for a revelation not yet seen by eyes.” He pulls the lever; a cacophony of gears springs into action, and ever so slowly an opening appears in the container. The audience leans in unison, their eyes fixed on the sliver of a portal to the unknown. The container creaks and groans, but holds firm.
At last, a glimpse. A flash. A moment, nay an instant, but there it was; a bit of rainbow. Shouts and cries of astonishment erupt from the audience; they had been holding their breath, but now their excitement cannot be contained. The portal widens. Another flash, another bit of rainbow. The audience rises. Another flash, another bit of rainbow. The audience clamors. Another flash, another bit of rainbow. The audience surges. Another flash, another bit of rainbow. The audience presses against the container. The man is not near the lever. The lights intensify. The man is not on the stage. The flashes grow more frequent, the bits of rainbow longer, and the audience rowdier. The container creaks. The man is not in the room. The flashes are gone, replaced by a pulse. The lights shatter. The audience breathes in time with the pulses. The pulses quicken. The audience begins to sway. They have fallen silent. The man is not in the building. The pulses quicken. Like a wave, the audience crashes into the container. A crack appears. The pulses intensify. Like a wave, the audience crashes once more. The crack grows. Sirens blair. The gears whir to life once more. The pulses quicken, the audience crashes, the crack grows, the gears whir, the portal shrinks, the pulses quicken, the audience crashes, the crack grows, the gears whir, the portal shrinks. Water begins to leak. The pulses are almost blinding. The container strains against the weight of the audience.
At last, the scene ends. A heavy air descends on the room imposing a deafening silence. The room is dark. The gears won, the container is safely sealed. The audience calms. The man reappears next to the container. His right hand is raised and holds a lantern. “Honored guests” his voice booms, killing the would be questions from the audience, “please proceed to the exit. The exhibition has come to a close.” The lantern illuminates a path to an exit. His words are final; the audience obeys. Silently they file out of the room, a sliver of rainbow in their eyes.
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