6. The Kobalt Influx

Silence is deafening, thought Norman.  Wind bounced off the roof of the refectory, candles flicked and waved, a draft brushed across his hand.  From somewhere above and behind he heard a scraping sound, and then a thud.  The flames on the candles stood straight.  Someone had closed the draft off.  But the action did not stop minutes from feeling like hours.  His need for food had not yet been met, a gurgling stomach told him he needed more.  The bubble bread was increasing in desirability.

Hunger and agitation combined to convince Norman that another piece of bread would not do any more harm, and might help to ease the discomfort that was taking residence in his body.  He pushed down on the anger that was trying to rise from somewhere near his stomach.  The thought that he would not be where he had planned to be, that he was somehow a prisoner, yes, that angered him.  Losing control of your life, and the ability to chose, freedom was important.

Anger is never a good master, Norman thought.  To let anger rule is to adopt a code of chaos, it provides a false sense of fixing a problem, all one tends to do is smash a chair or two, punch someone, tip the table over.  And then what.  I still care about what might happen to me.  It is ever okay to break things if you know for certain that you wont get broken.  No, it was never okay.  Besides Norman could not guarantee that he wouldn't be broken in some way that he might not mend from, if he did decide to handle the current situation that way.  He wasn't being hurt, just inconvenienced.   That thought helped Norman gain control of his anger.

Norman chose the only activity available to him.  He ate another piece of bubble bread.  This time he was not surprised by the crackle and fizzing against his teeth, he rode the sensation like a surfer rides a wave.  The sensations eased after a while settling into an enjoyably sweet flavor, this time the food slid down his esophagus, this time he did not feel like choking on the food.

There was a theory developing in Norman's brain, this is what happens when you have time to think.  To test the developing theory Norman ate the third slice of bread and held the bread in his mouth as long as he could.

Interesting, the longer you can hold the bread in your mouth the better the flavor and satisfaction in the meal. The fourth slice of bread went into Norman's mouth.  He sat and looked at the painting.  The man seated in the middle with his arms and hands, palms up, stretched out over the table looked at piece with himself.  Six men on either side, now that was strange, why six either side?  Was the artist just trying for balance in the picture, or was the artist trying to illustrate some coded message by posing the men the way he did.  Because the six men on either side of the man in the middle where discussing, arguing some point that Norman could not grasp.  Every picture tells a story; something the man in the middle had done or said was causing the rest of the dinner guest concern.

In the picture the plates looked to be metal.  Not one plate had any food on it, the artist had food on the table, Norman could see what looked to be small rolls of bread scattered over the table.  But none of the men in the picture were showing any interest in placing the bread rolls on their plates.  Food was not their main concern.

A chair scraped over the stone floor.  A man stood up, he was six chairs further up the table from Norman's position.  The man removed the hood from his head revealing a sallow face with sunken eyes.  The eyes searched the room, and focused on a waiter moving towards him.

'I did not pay for bread and water, I was promised a cure.  Take me to the person in charge.'

'As you wish,' said the waiter, who inclined his head and indicated that the upset diner was to follow him.  Norman watched the waiter and man disappear into the shadows.  From his experience so far, Norman suspected that the sallow faced man would receive an unexpected solution to his complaint.

The diner with the fat hands, coughed and spat something into his napkin.  Norman noticed that on the man's plate was the most delightful looking bread roll.  He had not noticed the waiters delivering any bread, or the glass of water.  The waiters were not that quiet.

Norman was confused, why hadn't he noticed the waiters delivering the bread?  Then he remembered drifting, being in a very nice place, and drawn into the painting on the wall above him.  Feeling that the painting was his world.  He would not go as far to say the people in the painting were alive, they weren't.  He had felt like he was walking around the people in the painting and able to study three dimensional figures that inhabited the painting.

The painting he remembered, might have been one of the paintings archaeologists had discovered buried underneath tons of ice. He doubted that the pictures the archaeologists found looked as stunning as the one on the wall in this room.   This painting was a reproduction, something formed from the remnants of a much older civilization.  What was this place, it was far more than a private museum.

The man with the fat hands grabbed his glass of water and drank ferociously.  Norman realized that he did not have a glass of water that he could drink.  Another puzzle for the mystery that this meal is becoming thought Norman.  I wonder what the next event will be?







 

5.

Norman had finished studying the fat chubby hand on his left, thinking that at least one person has seen a good pasture, the hand on his right was, well, right, not thin and not fat, with long fingers that were trying their best not to fiddle with a white cloth napkin.

Norman put down his napkin.  Then picked it up again, just to hold onto the piece of cloth gave him comfort.  He looked across the table, three pairs of hands he couldn't see, the owners had their hands neatly tucked  underneath the table on their laps.  All this hand watching made Norman self conscious of his hands, he moved his hands slowly, till they were on his lap, still holding the napkin.

Then his brain fired, he guess it had to do something but all of a sudden the niggle, the not quite right found consciousness.  If this place was an hour and a half behind the mainland, he could have caught the ferry.  The times on the board on the mainland said the ferry would return at 6.30 pm.  He had not changed his watch to Island time as the voice had recommended. His watch was on mainland time and he had most definitely an hour before the ferry left.

So how could he have missed the ferry if the Island was an hour and a half behind the mainland.  Was his math skills failing him.  He didn't think so.  Or did the 'sir' man mean something else by Island time.  Norman felt uneasy, some piece of information had been hooked up like a worm and left to dangle underneath a float waiting for the fish to work out if they dared to take a bite.  Was he supposed to stand up and yell and scream that he was missing his ferry or what?  Now that he was in the refectory seated at a very long table he could work out easy enough that he would definitely be missing the 6.30 ferry no matter what time was followed.

A noise from his stomach sounded loud and he hoped that his imagination was working overtime on the volume.  The sandwiches he had eaten for lunch were now just a memory and a little comfort in eating might be all the comfort he would get tonight.

The candle on the stand waved and twisted, waiters appeared from some corner that Norman could not see,  they were holding trays, at last thought Norman, food.  When he saw what was on the tray he almost said no, but the brain was remembering another thing the 'sir' man had said.  Don't think too hard about the look of the bread.   He was looking at a lace of bubbles, the outer crust resembled bread.  He hoped that it was bread and tasted better than it looked.  Norman almost said no to a piece of the bread, especially when he could see that the majority of hands were waving no.

The words 'be thankful for your daily bread' whispered, then his brain made the words into a mantra, his stomach echoed the brains labor of the mantra by gurgling at the sight his eyes were seeing.  One of his hands released itself from its position on his lap and closed all but one finger. The waiter placed one piece of bubble bread on his plate.

Norman eyed the bread with suspicion, his stomach pleaded.  His hands gave in to the demands of an empty stomach and cut the piece of bread into quarters.  Then his right hand picked up one of the quarters and placed the piece of bread into a mouth that he could not remember opening.

Norman was not expecting the piece of bread to fizz and crackle against his teeth.  And because it is not polite to spit out of your mouth what you have just put into it Norman swallowed the contents in his mouth, trying not to choke as they slid down his esophagus fizzing and crackling.

Norman stared at the remaining three pieces of bread.  Too much soda was the verdict.  Then he belched.

'Pardon me,' escaped from his lips before he could think past the surprise and embarrassment of making a noise when you are supposed to be quiet.  Norman's embarrassment eased when he heard another belch followed by a dozen or so more belches, and pardon me's.

This is going to be one unusual meal, Norman thought to himself.  He looked at the remaining pieces of bread, full of bubbles and too much soda.  But will I survive?  He hoped he could.

4.

Norman had been wearing the robe for only minutes and was aware that the fabric the robe was made of was scratchy on any skin that came in contact with it and the weight of the garment was pulling his shoulders down, it felt like there was something heavy in the hem, he would have liked to pick the garment up to look at the hem but he was interrupted.

"Sir, It is required that you enter the refectory with the hood over your head."
"Your kidding me." said Norman.
"I am sorry sir, but His Excellency likes one to be dressed appropriately."
"And I'm guessing that it's because I'm eating in a refectory," said Norman.
"Yes sir, that is right."  While Norman was left wondering exactly what the word refectory meant on this island museum, the man placed a hand on either side of Norman's head and pulled the hood up.

Norman was not expecting a confirmation of his guess, he had said it because he was tired and cranky and was wanting to get on the evening ferry back to the mainland.  There was a room waiting for him in a hotel tavern ten minutes walk from the ferry terminal.  The thought of a warm shower, no, a hot shower.  He realized that even with the heavy robe on he felt cold, the thought of a long hot shower helped to calm his uneasiness about his current position.  At the moment he felt he was hijacked and there was nothing he could do.

He did not know the floor plan of this place, he had been raced through too many corridors to find his way back to the room he was working in.  This was one big museum, the building he normally worked in was big, but this place was enormous and there was something empty and unsettling about the size, he could not pinpoint.  He would need this man with the polite 'sir' to navigate the warren of corridors that seemed to exist in the building.

Norman wondered how long he was expected to wear the hood up on the robe that hung over his body.  The fabric was rubbing on his ears and they were beginning to itch to the point where he wanted to rub the irritated spot.  But the 'sir' man was looking him eye to eye.  Norman broke off the stare, there was no doubt in Norman's mind, the hood stays up and you do not scratch.  He was not game to ask what would happen if he did.  But the thought that he might loose his head clawed its way down his back.

"How long is this meal going to take."
"Three, maybe four hours," said the man.
"I was hoping to catch the ferry to the mainland this evening."
"That won't be possible sir, the ferry left half an hour ago."
"By my watch I still have an hour," said Norman as he looked at his watch.
"That is mainland time sir, we are one and a half hours behind the main land."
"Then I'll have to stay the night!"
"Yes sir, I will wait for you to finish.  Then I will show you to your room for the night."

 Norman felt that somehow, somewhere he had been in a fight, no not a fight a battle and somewhere, somehow he had lost the battle.  "You are going to wait for me?" It was a silly question but Norman needed assurance.
"Yes sir, I will stand over there with the other valets and wait for you."

Norman followed the man's gaze to a row of similarly dress individuals who were standing against the wall. If he placed a lamp shade on each of them he was sure that they would pass as a light stands.  Men and women stood in the order they had arrived, another assumption, the first assumption might be that these stands were  human, it would make more sense if they weren't.
"Are you human?"
"Part of me is sir."

A bell rang drowning out the next words that Norman was beginning to speak.  Norman had to wait for the noise to stop.  When the clanging rattle became an echoing sensations in his ears Norman put his hand on the man's arm and said "For the part of you that is human, take some time off, I will wait for you, come back in four hours. Do what you need to do, eat, sleep, take a shower.  I would not be able to eat anything if all I can think of is you standing here for hours and hours waiting for me."

The man looked at him with relief and maybe a tear in his eye.  Norman wasn't sure.  "You need to go into the refectory sir," the man paused then said "And sir, be thankful for your daily bread.  Sir, you must go now, the doors are closing."

Norman rushed between the closing doors he just managed to get into the refectory before the doors closed.  He hoped that the 'sir' man took some time off.  He had to ask him for a name, he couldn't keep referring to him as the 'sir' man.  He also hoped that the 'sir' man did not stand out in that cold hall way for four hours.

When Norman came to a stop he found himself in a room that had a table or series of joined tables, because there was at least thirty metres of table.  On the table was one, he was sure there was no hidden join, white table cloth the length of the table.

About every metre there was a candelabra holding seven candles.  The candelabra's could not be classed as a decoration, they were plain, designed for a purpose nothing more.  The knife, fork and spoon were also plain and designed for purpose nothing more.  In between the cutlery was a white bowl plate.  Norman could not find the words to describe the table ware.

"Makes one wonder what the food is going to be like," said another guest who was standing next to Norman waiting to be showed to his seat.

The top end of the table had people seated, they were waiting for the last half dozen people at the doors to be seated.  When the usher came to Norman, he did not show him to a seat next to the people he had been standing with. He signaled that Norman was to follow, not one word was spoken, except for the man who had just spoken to him.  He was now seated at the end of the table.  Norman was lead to a place that was overlooked by a large painting of thirteen men who appeared to be arguing over their meal.  The usher stopped in behind a vacant chair. This had be planned, someone knew that Norman would be in the refectory for a meal? The usher pull the chair away from the table so that Norman could stand in the space waiting for the usher to move the chair in behind him. The room's quiet dinners spoke volumes, there was no argument, and invitation was issued and this was your seat, take it.

Remembering to lift his heavy robe just before sitting down on the chair that swept in behind him saved Norman from having to rise again and rearrange the garment.  He had noticed that the people who were seated before him had struggled with their robes when they were seated and had to do a lot of wriggling to get comfortable.

With the people seated next to him holding their tongues, the seconds seemed like minutes and minutes were like hours.  Then a bell chimed and a voice was heard to say "We bless this food we are about to eat." Then nothing, no explanation and no waiter with food, Norman wondered if they were going to eat because his eyes focused on the sparse table decor, and he thought that if the food was the same as the decor he might be in for a long hungry and quiet night.

2.

Norman stared at the door. You expect a door to open he thought.  He grabbed the door's handle pushing and pulling the door in the hope of shaking the door open.

"Hold on for a second, I'm almost finished," said a voice from the other side of the door.  Then Norman heard something that sounded like rushing water.  The door opened into him, first time in his life that he was thankful for large feet.  His nose was saved a bruising blow. 

"Sorry," said the voice.  The door opened after Norman stepped back out of the doors arc.  He found that the voice belonged to a woman with a pretty face and laughing eyes.

"Hi I'm Vicky, and I'm guessing your the translator."

"You have me at a disadvantage," said Norman. "But yes, I am 'the translator', I'm Norman, Norman Charring."  He was not feeling the humour in the meeting that Vicky seemed to be finding, his discomfort seemed to amuse her.  He shook her offered hand.

"I need to get back to my desk, but the en-suite is free now."  Vicky turned around and walked through the door in his room and through a door on the other side of the en-suite room.  Norman wouldn't have minded a chat, but it seemed Vicky had other things to do.

Curious as to what was in the room Vicky had stepped from, Norman thought that he might have a look.  What he stepped into was a 20th Century bathroom, but Vicky called the room an en-suite, the museum where he worked had examples of a room like this.  Something to check, he thought, their description might need updating, silly really, should have thought of the different words for the a bathroom.  This would, he thought, excite Samuel no end, to see a 20th Century bathroom that works.  Now that I'm here I might as well be comfortable.

Norman's curiosity was too strong, he knew where one door went; to Vicky's desk, and he assumed an office, but where did the door between his door and Vicky's door go.  There was only one way to find out, he opened the door.  

It was a storage room, there was bath crystals, soaps, solid and liquid, bubble bath, towels, shelves and shelves of towels. Underneath the shelves were laundry facilities. And not the 20th Century type either.  Handy to know that he could have his clothes cleaned while he relaxed in either the shower or bath, or the spa.

At the other end of the storage room, past the shelves, where racks of bath robes, blue on one side and pink on the other side.  Norman looked through the blue side, there seemed to be a range of different sizes, the pink robes were the same. Passing the robes, Norman stood at another door, he paused,  I've come this far, he thought, I might as well open this door too.

The room was a square, and had bench seats on three of its walls, the fourth wall had the door in it.  In the center of the room was an metal basket full of bubbly rocks.  A voice welcomed him to the sauna, and informed him that the sauna would be ready in 30 minutes.  He was asked if he wished to confirm? Norman had a moment or two of confusion, he was looking for the owner of the voice, this was not part of a standard 20th Century bathroom, he managed to utter "No," before he was asked anymore questions.

Norman turned around and walked back to the room where he had spent his day.  It had been a long day, arriving early morning, shown straight to a desk full of documents, he had thought that he would be finished by the time the ferry was ready to return to the mainland that night.  But the documents were like the shelves of towels. Never ending.  That raised questions too.  He wondered why the owner of the documents didn't simply scan the documents into a translator program.  He knew one or two programs that could do the job.

"Sir," said a voice.  Norman jumped, he was not expecting anyone to be in the room, but the man who had bought him his lunch, sandwiches, was standing in the room.  Norman also noticed that the documents he was translating had disappeared.

"My sincere apology, sir, I did not mean to frighten you but your evening meal will be served in the dinning hall in fifteen minutes, I am here to show you the way. "