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.