wine.’
‘Yeah. The builders have knocked down that false wall and called me in. There was another false wall inside the chamber, with a door behind it…’
‘The key?’ Alex cut in.
‘Don’t know, gonna try now. Listen, it’ll be dark before you get to Babel and rain’s forecast, take care okay?’
‘Always honey, see you soon. Hello from Jake, our three year old prodigy who has just buried my keys in the garden!’
‘Bye, love. Bye to Jake and kisses,’ and the image was gone.
Robert thought he heard a sound from beyond the door. Impossible, nothing had been beyond this threshold in over a century. His grandfather’s renovations had not reached this section of the asylum and the second wall had only been breached that morning. But there it was again, a faint pulsing hum almost like the rhythmic intonation of a large car’s engine, a deep droning that could be felt as well as heard. Robert leaned closer to the door and put his ear to the steel. The whine definitely seemed mechanical and it appeared to be in the very fabric of the metal resonating through Robert’s head. If it was audible then it had not increased in volume but it thudded in Robert’s brain as a heavy and thick pounding. It shook through his body as if he was inside a free-falling elevator that had just crashed at the bottom of its shaft.
Robert peeled away from the door, shoved the key into the lock, and turned it with a grunt. Ancient apparatus labored inside the lock as it rotated for the first time in one hundred and fourteen years. There was a series of snaps as the innards aligned themselves. Robert turned and pulled the handle and the steel groaned as it left its frame, a rush of sighing air, dust, and time slipping past Robert to taste the world beyond. The blackness beyond the threshold of the door was absolute and preternatural. It did not flood into the room where Robert stood but instead reached out in soft gossamer threads that twisted and turned to embrace him in wispy talons of nothingness. As he stepped into the void, Robert felt like a fly, knowingly entering a web, and he fumbled for the familiarity of a light switch. He had the unnerving impression that he was about to touch something wet and breathing. Something standing in the shadows waiting for his hand to travel one inch, then it would close its rows of broken-glass teeth on his fingers and rip them from his hand. But all he found was a chunky switch. He flipped it and waited for the antiquated configuration of cables and wires to transmit the signal to the bulbs.
There was a hissing sound, like a moth sizzling on a heated coil, and then the lights blazed. Robert’s eyes narrowed as the huge arrays blinked on and revealed a stairway that sank into more deep shadow. Concrete steps ran away from Robert and as he began the descent he suddenly realized he had no torch to rely on should the aged lights fail. He hesitated, looking back up the stairway then down to where the steps disappeared into a recess. He decided there must be a separate generator powering this section of the institute and he continued slowly, until he entered the dimness.
Once again he was forced to grope in the dark for a light switch, this time on the wall, as it turned to his left to drop another flight of stairs. He found the second switch and flooded the next level with artificial light, standing transfixed like a small animal momentarily spellbound in the headlights of a car. The yellow radiance of the bulbs wrapped around him and it took some seconds for his vision to adapt. He stared around the room. The walls were carved out of rock that must have constituted the foundations of the institute, and they were wet and stained with green-brown moss. The low ceiling was deeply scarred and the floor was earthen and uneven. On each side of the galley-like room there was a row of three, iron-barred cells.
Robert could see the room terminated at the far end in another door; this one fashioned
‘Yeah. The builders have knocked down that false wall and called me in. There was another false wall inside the chamber, with a door behind it…’
‘The key?’ Alex cut in.
‘Don’t know, gonna try now. Listen, it’ll be dark before you get to Babel and rain’s forecast, take care okay?’
‘Always honey, see you soon. Hello from Jake, our three year old prodigy who has just buried my keys in the garden!’
‘Bye, love. Bye to Jake and kisses,’ and the image was gone.
Robert thought he heard a sound from beyond the door. Impossible, nothing had been beyond this threshold in over a century. His grandfather’s renovations had not reached this section of the asylum and the second wall had only been breached that morning. But there it was again, a faint pulsing hum almost like the rhythmic intonation of a large car’s engine, a deep droning that could be felt as well as heard. Robert leaned closer to the door and put his ear to the steel. The whine definitely seemed mechanical and it appeared to be in the very fabric of the metal resonating through Robert’s head. If it was audible then it had not increased in volume but it thudded in Robert’s brain as a heavy and thick pounding. It shook through his body as if he was inside a free-falling elevator that had just crashed at the bottom of its shaft.
Robert peeled away from the door, shoved the key into the lock, and turned it with a grunt. Ancient apparatus labored inside the lock as it rotated for the first time in one hundred and fourteen years. There was a series of snaps as the innards aligned themselves. Robert turned and pulled the handle and the steel groaned as it left its frame, a rush of sighing air, dust, and time slipping past Robert to taste the world beyond. The blackness beyond the threshold of the door was absolute and preternatural. It did not flood into the room where Robert stood but instead reached out in soft gossamer threads that twisted and turned to embrace him in wispy talons of nothingness. As he stepped into the void, Robert felt like a fly, knowingly entering a web, and he fumbled for the familiarity of a light switch. He had the unnerving impression that he was about to touch something wet and breathing. Something standing in the shadows waiting for his hand to travel one inch, then it would close its rows of broken-glass teeth on his fingers and rip them from his hand. But all he found was a chunky switch. He flipped it and waited for the antiquated configuration of cables and wires to transmit the signal to the bulbs.
There was a hissing sound, like a moth sizzling on a heated coil, and then the lights blazed. Robert’s eyes narrowed as the huge arrays blinked on and revealed a stairway that sank into more deep shadow. Concrete steps ran away from Robert and as he began the descent he suddenly realized he had no torch to rely on should the aged lights fail. He hesitated, looking back up the stairway then down to where the steps disappeared into a recess. He decided there must be a separate generator powering this section of the institute and he continued slowly, until he entered the dimness.
Once again he was forced to grope in the dark for a light switch, this time on the wall, as it turned to his left to drop another flight of stairs. He found the second switch and flooded the next level with artificial light, standing transfixed like a small animal momentarily spellbound in the headlights of a car. The yellow radiance of the bulbs wrapped around him and it took some seconds for his vision to adapt. He stared around the room. The walls were carved out of rock that must have constituted the foundations of the institute, and they were wet and stained with green-brown moss. The low ceiling was deeply scarred and the floor was earthen and uneven. On each side of the galley-like room there was a row of three, iron-barred cells.
Robert could see the room terminated at the far end in another door; this one fashioned
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