The caretaker was leaving after a long shift at the Arts Museum. His eyes weary, his legs exhausted, his brain refusing to process simple tasks. He just needed to get home and have a good night's sleep.
His phone rings just as he is walking out of the building. The phone call was from the owner barking orders down the line at the caretaker. After several power cuts in the building that evening, the Museum was opening first thing in the morning for a big show.
“You need to fix this by 6.AM tomorrow morning or you're fired!”
Sleep-deprived and stressed, the caretaker trudges back inside past the ticket machine and through the revolving doors into the main exhibition.
When he entered the exhibition, he looked up. The power was clearly still on, but the lights were emitting a colour he had never seen before. It was a neon yellow illuminating the pitch black corridor. He closed his eyes, thinking it must have been his eyes playing tricks on him. He opened them again; still the same.
Confused and slightly perturbed, he switched on his torch and made his way down the corridor, admiring the new artworks which had been put up that day. As he reached the end of the corridor, the yellow light suddenly became stronger and more intense. At the end of the halls he could see an outline of something. He stopped feeling stressed and nervous. He shone the torch on this outline.
There stood a gigantic statue of a giant head that he had never seen before. He sighed in relief:
“Must be a new piece they put up today” he laughed to himself.
He carried on walking down the corridor, but when he was about 2 metres away from the statue he heard a slight rumble. His eyes darted in the direction of the statue. The head was rumbling, cracks appearing in the stone. Before he could think “I’m going crazy” the statue exploded, pieces flying everywhere. He covered his face, bracing for impact. Nothing -- not a single fragment -- hit him.
A dragging sound was audible as he removed his hands from his face and eyes.
The pieces were moving on the floor, attracted to together as though magnetised. He started to run towards the door, unable to process or understand what was happening. The door was locked. He shook the door, trying to break it open.
A huge crunch sounded, and he spun around. The statue was completely intact again, immaculately reconstructed in the space of seconds. Had he imagined it all? He really needed to sleep. He walked round this statue, talking to himself.
He entered the second room of the exhibition and looked up. Again the lights were emitting a different colour to the one he knew. This time purple glowed quite ominously. His heart rate was going up, and he was starting to sweat profusely.
In the centre of the room was another installation he had not seen before. It was a bedroom with a door, some shelves and a chair right in the centre. He decided to approach it tentatively. Within a metre of it, he started to hear the whoosh of air and wind. Slowly -- as if made of sand --- this installation started to disintegrate before his eyes. Was it a projection? What is this new technology? How does this work? Before he could collect his thoughts, the pieces began to move back into place, rebuilding the piece. He was amazed and totally baffled at this artwork.
The lights went out. Powercut….
Back-up generator sounded. He turned on his torch, feeling his way through the darkness.
He reached the third room of the exhibition. Power was back on this time; the lights were an electric blue, brighter than the last two.
He knew this wasn't right now. Something was definitely wrong….
The room had changed. It used to be a massive open room where the artists and curators would chat, drink and admire the artworks on display. But now there were walls and corridors which had sprouted out of the ground, it seemed, forming some kind of eerie, dark maze.
He stumbled around, not knowing which way to go. Hitting dead end after dead end. He started sprinting, heart pumping through his chest.
He turned a corner and again the lights went out. Breathing heavily, thoughts racing, he switched his torch back on. He was heading in the right direction and he could feel it.
He finally made it, feeling like he was about to faint, walked down a flight of stairs, relieved that he was in the last room of the museum. He walked downstairs into the biggest room by far.
The lights turned back on dazzlingly bright. Illuminating this gigantic room. Revealing the last installation. There stood a model of a tower. He didn't even think about it this time. He saw the exit and started running. The pieces of enormous tower cascading down on him as he ran, only to resurrect themselves into formation again. He reached the glowing red exit sign, and broke through the door. He was free. Except as soon as he broke through, an alarm sounded. On the other side of that door was an emergency lift up towards the main lobby. He slammed the button and jumped in as the doors opened.
The doors closed behind him. He was covered in sweat, lying on the floor of the lift. It was pitch black apart from a red flashing light which was paired with alarm. He pressed the first floor button. Waiting for the lift to take him to freedom.
To his despair it didn’t….
The lift began to descend despite his actions. He began pressing all the buttons. Nothing worked. The lift was plummeting down. He braced for impact.
A huge jolt and the lift was motionless. He opened his eyes as the doors opened. The flashlight rolled out of the lift, still activated.
He stood up, walked out and picked the torch up. The second he touched it, he heard a deep bassy click as though a main breaker switch had been turned on.
Directly above him a big square, glowing, red light came on. Lighting him and the area around him. Another click, another light turned on ahead of him. Another click, a light turned on even further away. Click, click, click. The hallway was revealed at the end of it. He could just about make out some screens, a desk and some cabinets. He started walking very cautiously, scared of the dark and unknown.
When he reached the end of the hallway, he observed the screens. They were security monitors. Each screen represented a room of the exhibition. He had never seen this room before. He was well aware that there was a security room with monitors as he had been in there several times before. But this room had never been shown to him.
He looked at the monitor and saw all the installations he thought he had imagined. Clear as day they were exploding and reconstructing themselves. He couldn't explain it. He couldn't even fathom it. There was no explanation for this. He must be dreaming or something.
Then suddenly, he felt rumbling below his feet. Before he knew it, he was falling through the floor, plummeting toward the pitch black base.
He landed on his back on something firm, and pain shot through his system. He yelled in pain, but the sound was quickly stifled. He had just seen something. Something terrifying; and not only that he could hear it. Before him glowing red and blue, a colossal human heart. Floating in the middle of the air. Pumping and pulsating.
As he stood up, he looked down; he was standing on glass and could see through it. He was up very high and could just about see the bottom of this room. He started walking towards the heart, observing it. As he approached, the ground below the glass started to vibrate. Two giant sliding doors started to open below, revealing a glowing red swirling whirlpool. It looked like a portal from a sci-fi film.
Ahead of him, the heart started to beat pumping faster and louder. The portal was producing strong wind forces that were making it hard to walk. The sound was a terrifying vibration of electricity. Directly under the heart was a button. His first instinct was to press it; he considered for a couple of minutes, then did so.
The moment he pressed it, the heart stopped floating and fell into the portal. He watched it as it started to pick up speed on its way down.
Then… The glass beneath his feet gave way and broke due to the force of the portal. He started falling, falling and falling into nothingness.
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