Sixth excerpt from "The Iron Meditation": Becoming something new

Welcome to the sixth, and last, excerpt from chapter 5 of my experimental surrealist sci-fi novel "The Iron Meditation".

The book has not yet been published in English, but you can buy the Norwegian version from here, here and here.

If you want to read an excerpt in Norwegian, you can look at this, this, this and this.


The Iron Meditation Chapter 5.6: Becoming something new

I leave what seemed to be a never-ending hall, and my path narrows between rusty copies of well-known architectural buildings that no longer exist. The profusion of statues end, and are replaced by mere reliefs on the walls. Flakes of rust hang from the ceiling, and cracking sounds come from the floor. Like this, it keeps repeating itself for minutes, maybe a quarter, maybe more. Sometimes, what now seems to be a corridor turns so I no longer have a clear sense of direction. The drumbeats have stopped.

And then I can detect a strange smell in the air. Smoke reaches me and seems to be coming from up front. The corridor widens again and I find myself in a room with high ceiling. In the middle of the room, there is some kind of goblet in silver color, standing on a square table. The smoke is coming from there, and the temperature in this room is hot. I can hear an angry, boiling sound. I approach, nonetheless, until something spills from the goblet. I take a few steps back.

An information sign informs: Goblet made of tungsten, also known as wolfram. Tungsten melts at 3422 degrees celsius and boils at 5555 degrees. Because of its great ability to withstand high temperatures, it can contain boiling iron which only needs 2861 degrees before boiling.

I walk around the table and the goblet towards a door on the other side. On the door, there is yet another information text:

Iron is a stable element and much utilized metal. It can react with other elements and create various alloys. Oxygen causes iron to rust. If iron couldn't be made into many forms like this, this park wouldn't have been possible the way it is today. Every object is iron in some form. At 1538 degrees they will melt again, and become something new.

EXIT.

I open the door. And close it again, in fear. In shock. Time stops. 

My breath shivers until I take it deep. My heart starts skipping beats. And then the tears come. The fear. The insecurity. 

And I look back at the smoking goblet.

This was what I wanted, and yet: What will I say? How will I communicate? On the other side, you see, is a human lady. With white, unruly hair. That's all I had time to see. I scratch my pinky finger with the nail on my thumb. Rapidly. 

OK, I think to myself. 

I open the door again, enter, and let the door close behind me. Standing still, staring at the lady.

Fifth excerpt from "The Iron Meditation": Moist bodies corrode

Welcome to the fifth excerpt from "The Iron Meditation".

"The Iron Meditation" is my experimental surrealist sci-fi book, thus far only published in Norwegian. I decided to share my first draft for the English language version of chapter 5 on my blog.

This will be the fifth of a total of six excerpts. I've taken some time thinking about this one and I've decided not to put out part 5 (of chapter 5) in its entirety since it contains some rather sexually explicit paragraphs. I also decided to turn that up in the English version which is not a direct translation of the Norwegian one.

You can buy the Norwegian version here, here, here or from other sources.

If you want to read excerpts from the Norwegian version of my book, you can take a look at this, this, this or this blog entry.

The Iron Meditation 5.5: Moist bodies corrode (edited)

[Several paragraphs are removed from here. Before the following paragraphs, the main character met a pair of humans, possibly made of iron, possibly real, possibly statues] 

And then it ends. As I look at them, they corrode. Within seconds their bodies turn rusty, exhanging an even metal shine for a nonreflecting dryness, like sand on a cloudy day. And to sand they turn, falling apart into red and brown powder, covering me in dust, disappearing, leaving me alone. And even colder than before.

Drumbeat.

Was it even real? The hope of something vanished, but what happened to my thirst? I brush some dust away but it seems to gradually vanish by itself. I don't really know what happened, but at least I want to get moving again.

How is it possible to make something like this? How can this park be the product of one human artist and how can it all be made of iron?

Another information sign: Rust is iron paired with oxygen.

Very well, I hope for water (H2O, that is, I'm certain).