The First Hut and the Vision of the Dazzling Illumination
As Klein continued to traverse the walls of deep, bright green hedgerow, prodding and pawing as he fumbled his way along, looking outwards at intermittent intervals in the hope of catching sight of something to give him hope … somewhere to go … or even something to do … he came across a sign carved out into the hedge. The sign read:
Proceed to Station Marked M.
At first, Klein just stopped in his tracks and looked at the sign, trying to make sense of it. The sign had been carved out in black lettering, and was etched into a wooden board of about four feet wide and four feet long; it was tantalizingly placed at about head height to Klein, but no indication was given as to where or what the ‘station’ could be, or what it might be …
Out of a protracted period of silence, Klein heard a voice from behind him: ‘Mr Klein your hut is ready for you.’ The voice was a sort of grunting, almost inhuman voice, a voice that Klein could just about understand; but it had a powerful effect of making him divert his attention from the astonishing sign for a mere moment. As he turned around, he saw a disfigured man travelling at speed towards what looked like a small hut of some sort that had appeared maybe one hundred yards outwards from the edge of the hedgerow. The man had a pronounced hunched back and a distinctly dishevelled look; he was dressed in shabby clothes, and reeking so much that the wind which was blowing in Klein’s direction sent a foul-smelling odour towards him that only served to increase the total repugnance of the moving image that he could see scuttling off towards the hut. Klein noticed that the man was holding a basic-looking hammer (an unusual kind of flint hammer) and a bag of nails, and he was trying to conceal this fact by holding them close to his side.
As Klein looked in the direction of the hut, he could just about make out something radiating behind it, and, without having to think, he realised that it was the same arrangement of shapes and colours that he had beheld a moment ago. Klein looked to his left and then to his right, but he could not remember the specific location at the hedge where he had first caught sight of the collage; but, in any case, he thought he was sure in his mind that he had seen the collection of colours before … just now. The mish-mash of colours radiated glowingly from behind the hut; they were coming from a promontory that allowed the colours to travel quite a distance from their immediate proximity; the brightness and intensity contained something of an internal power source that was of a magnificence totally unbeknown to Klein; nevertheless, the colours registered as a drive – or a kind of pull on Klein – magnetically drawing him towards the hut. The colours were so bright and intense that the small hut now seemed merely something of an imitation in the foreground by comparison.
Proceed to Station Marked M.
At first, Klein just stopped in his tracks and looked at the sign, trying to make sense of it. The sign had been carved out in black lettering, and was etched into a wooden board of about four feet wide and four feet long; it was tantalizingly placed at about head height to Klein, but no indication was given as to where or what the ‘station’ could be, or what it might be …
Out of a protracted period of silence, Klein heard a voice from behind him: ‘Mr Klein your hut is ready for you.’ The voice was a sort of grunting, almost inhuman voice, a voice that Klein could just about understand; but it had a powerful effect of making him divert his attention from the astonishing sign for a mere moment. As he turned around, he saw a disfigured man travelling at speed towards what looked like a small hut of some sort that had appeared maybe one hundred yards outwards from the edge of the hedgerow. The man had a pronounced hunched back and a distinctly dishevelled look; he was dressed in shabby clothes, and reeking so much that the wind which was blowing in Klein’s direction sent a foul-smelling odour towards him that only served to increase the total repugnance of the moving image that he could see scuttling off towards the hut. Klein noticed that the man was holding a basic-looking hammer (an unusual kind of flint hammer) and a bag of nails, and he was trying to conceal this fact by holding them close to his side.
As Klein looked in the direction of the hut, he could just about make out something radiating behind it, and, without having to think, he realised that it was the same arrangement of shapes and colours that he had beheld a moment ago. Klein looked to his left and then to his right, but he could not remember the specific location at the hedge where he had first caught sight of the collage; but, in any case, he thought he was sure in his mind that he had seen the collection of colours before … just now. The mish-mash of colours radiated glowingly from behind the hut; they were coming from a promontory that allowed the colours to travel quite a distance from their immediate proximity; the brightness and intensity contained something of an internal power source that was of a magnificence totally unbeknown to Klein; nevertheless, the colours registered as a drive – or a kind of pull on Klein – magnetically drawing him towards the hut. The colours were so bright and intense that the small hut now seemed merely something of an imitation in the foreground by comparison.
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