Fog Island. Mariette Lindstein
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 her body; that didn’t exist anymore, but outside the whole island. She was floating way up in the sky.
Everything was bright colours. There were the lookout point and the cliffs plunging into the sea; the big woods and the harbour, where the boats looked like little toys.
The wall curled around the manor like a white snake. The swans in the pond were two tiny white dots. The air was thin and she herself was ethereal and warm. Everything was moving in slow motion. The crowns of the trees blew gently in the wind and the sun was like a golden rain falling all over the landscape. She didn’t know how long it lasted. When she asked Olof later, he only shrugged. But when she returned to her room, her fear was gone. The darkness was gentle and comforting, like a warm bath.
I saw! I saw without using my eyes!
She knocked on the door.
The light blinded her when Hurtig opened up, but she was only grateful that she didn’t have to look at his smile when she told him what had happened. She only heard him clapping his hands together and rubbing them, and laughing.
‘There you go, Sofia! You’re ready! You’ve achieved the final phenomenon of the fourth thesis.’
*
In the days that followed, everything felt different: a peculiar new calmness in her body. Harmony. Tranquillity. The very sensation she’d come to the island to find. To think that I’m always so worried, she thought. Consciously or unconsciously, it was always something she fretted about. The vague sense of panic that had been her constant companion had gone up in smoke.
She completed the final phase of the program, a second winding-down, where you just sat in the classroom with your eyes closed for a little while each day. You were expected to practise drawing power from your memories, but she mostly sat there enjoying how good it all felt.
On the third day, Hurtig approached and shook her shoulder, waking her from her reverie.
‘Franz wants to see you. Right away!’
It sounded as if God Himself had called her to a summit.
She knew where Oswald’s office was, but no one answered after a few knocks so she stepped inside. Entering his office was like stepping into a spaceship. There