Fog Island: A terrifying thriller set in a modern-day cult. Mariette Lindstein
‘Not exactly.’
‘Then we’ll ignore it. Just find another memory.’
They went on like that for a few hours, until Olof’s voice began to fade out and she felt warm inside, a little fuzzy — almost giggly. She sank into a warm darkness where she was alone with her images, and Olof’s voice was way off in the distance.
Then came an image that was extra clear and colourful. A pair of tiny feet tottering across a lawn, viewed from above. At first she pushed the image aside, because it seemed so unbelievable. But it returned, and she could feel the dew under her feet and her inner joy at the ability to walk. It’s strange that my feet have gotten so big, she thought with a shudder, because all at once she knew the memory was real.
‘I had no idea,’ she heard herself say, but her voice came from far beyond her body.
‘I’m sorry?’ Olof said.
She forced herself to open her eyes, and there he was, looking at her curiously.
‘You said something.’
‘I was thinking out loud, about how I had no idea I could remember so far back. I remembered taking my first steps. It seems incredible, but I know it was real.’
‘And . . .?’ he leaned forward, eager, encouraging her to go on.
‘And I was thinking that the past really is the key to existence.’
Bingo! Olof slapped his hand against the desk.
‘That’s it! That’s it! The exercise is over. We’ll do thesis number three tomorrow.’
*
She was a little nervous as she entered the classroom on the third evening. She wasn’t quite sure why; she only knew that it had to do with losing control, losing herself in the exercises.
‘How many theses are there?’ she asked Olof as soon as they sat down.
‘Five, but you’ll do one through four first and then spend some time practising your new abilities.’
‘Have you read the fifth thesis?’
‘No, no one has yet. Franz is going to release it as soon as five hundred guests have completed the first four. He says the fifth is so powerful that it will take a team, sort of. But right now, for you, let’s focus on number three.’
Thesis #3: One person’s dusk is another’s dawn.
Your true self can only exist free of constant fear of causing offence, wounding, or hurting others. The desire for approval is a scourge on humanity.
Exercise: The process for Thesis 3 is done in the classroom with an advisor who uses this repeated command: ‘Remember a time when you could have helped someone by hurting them.’
She shivered as she finished reading. ‘That sounds brutal.’
‘That’s the point. Your desire for approval is protesting now, not your true self. Now let’s do the exercise.’
But she couldn’t come up with an answer. She squirmed in her chair, distracted by everything that was going on in the classroom as her irritation at the idiotic exercise grew.
‘I can’t think of an answer to your question,’ she stated at last.
‘Then that’s what we’ll say.’
‘What? What do you mean?’
‘Franz says thesis number three isn’t for everyone. There are those who are dominant and those who are submissive. This thesis doesn’t work for the submissive ones.’
‘I’m not submissive, damn it! What are you talking about?’
‘Sofia, it’s not a bad thing. The whole universe is built on dominance and submissiveness. It’s just as natural as how the seagulls in the bay eat herring. Take the rest of the night off and we’ll get started on the fourth thesis tomorrow.’
She was stewing as she left the classroom — that scrawny jerk didn’t know a damn thing about her. Submissive? The very idea was idiotic, ridiculous, and, above all, one hundred percent wrong. And comparing her to a fucking herring! She walked around the yard for a while, then sat by the pond and watched the swans while yanking at the grass.
At last she stood up and walked briskly back to the classroom. Olof Hurtig was still there.
‘Okay, I’ll do the damn exercise.’
His face broke into a smile.
‘I thought so.’
So they started over, and she came up with a few answers to the question, which made her feel a little better. Good enough to Hurtig to let her go for the night.
*
‘This thesis is so simple that it’s best if you don’t use your brain when you answer it, but your heart,’ Hurtig said as he placed the fourth thesis before her.
‘How do I do that?’
‘Just try.’
She read the short text.
Thesis #4: Darkness is the root of light.
A millimetre below the surface of the earth, darkness rules completely. Within your body it is perfectly dark, and yet you are alive and are radiant with energy. The DNA in your cells have no light, yet it is the blueprint for what you are. Darkness is the root of light.
Exercise: Your advisor will show you to a room that is perfectly dark. This is all you have to do: sit in compete darkness until you can see.
‘I can’t do this exercise,’ she said at once.
‘Not this again, Sofia.’
‘You don’t understand. I’m afraid of the dark. I can’t handle being closed up in a pitch black room.’
‘But you sleep in total darkness here.’
‘It’s different when I’m asleep,’ she lied, because she always left a little gap under the blind.
‘I’ll be right outside the room the whole time,’ Hurtig promised. ‘If you panic, all you have to do is knock on the door and I’ll open it. You can at least try, can’t you?’
*
The room was at the far end of the building. The atmosphere there was very different from the classrooms. The air was raw and stale and there was a heavy smell of body odour from someone who must have sat there for a while. There was a chair in the middle of the room, which was otherwise empty.
‘It’s creepy in here.’
‘It’s not meant to be comfortable.’
She walked in slowly and sat down on the chair.
‘The room is soundproofed,’ he said. ‘But I’ll hear you if you knock on the door.’
The door closed with a heavy thud.
At first, she was paralyzed by the silence rather than the darkness. It was so quiet that the whole world seemed to have disappeared. She could hear her pulse and a strange, gurgling buzz in her ears. That’s the blood flowing through my veins, she thought. My hearing has moved into my body.
Then the darkness crept in under her clothes and found every last nook and cranny of her body, settling in her armpits and groin, tightening over her larynx until she could hardly breathe. Then came the familiar waves of sweat, starting with nausea and spreading heat to her chest, hands, and forehead until she was drenched.
I can’t handle this. I need out, out!
And just then, it happened. She found herself outside. Not just outside