Читать книгу Fog Island: A terrifying thriller set in a modern-day cult - Mariette Lindstein, Mariette Lindstein - Страница 11

5

She continued to think of Ellis now and then, but she still felt unusually at ease. The fresh air, healthy food, and good sleep had put her body into a pleasant torpor. Then came the theses, which shook her right out of it.

Although it didn’t start off on such a good note.

‘This is a blank piece of paper!’ she said, looking at Olof Hurtig, who was standing before her with an expectant gaze.

‘I know, Sofia. Maybe you should read the first thesis again.’ He placed it in front of her, on top of the blank sheet of paper.

Thesis #1: Your inner self knows everything.

There is a voice inside you that isn’t really a voice. If you learn to listen to it, you, the dreamer, will awaken from your dream. This voice has many names: a sixth sense, clairvoyance, vibes, or ESP. But we call it intuition.

This voice is like the sun on a cloudy day. Even when the clouds cover the sky, and even during the darkest night, the sun is shining. The clouds and the darkness are your mental distractions, which keep you from reaching your inner self.

Exercise: Your advisor will give you a portal into your mind. Observe it and search for your inner self.

‘I already read that,’ she said. ‘Why should I sit here staring at a blank piece of paper?’

‘Do as it says in the exercise,’ said Olof.

She felt disappointed and duped, and resentment was buzzing in her head like a bee, so she just stared sulkily at him.

‘Why is the text so short? I thought the theses were real essays.’

‘The truth is always simple, Sofia.’

‘Yes, but isn’t staring at a piece of paper taking it a little far?’

He gave her a sympathetic smile.

‘Let’s say that this paper is your mind. It’s perfectly blank, and you can do whatever you want with it. That’s why we call it a portal. What do you see on this paper, Sofia?’

‘Nothing!’

‘Exactly. Try to find the empty space in your mind, and you’ll find your self.’

I’m glad I didn’t have to pay for this, she thought, fixing her eyes on the white sheet. Her boiling anger gradually cooled and she let her eyes relax until the paper grew blurry. She sat staring for a long time. Time seemed to disappear, until finally she felt something: weightlessness and relief. Some mass around her head seemed to disperse.

She took her eyes from the paper and looked up at Olof.

‘I feel lighter. Weightless.’

His face split into a broad smile. He nodded eagerly and put a hand on her shoulder.

‘Good! What you felt was your inner self. It’s that simple. We’ll move on to thesis number two tomorrow.’

Her disappointment ebbed away later that night. Her spirits really did feel lighter. Colours were brighter, sounds sharper, and her laugh a little warmer. She noticed it all and felt pleasantly surprised.

The next evening, she went to the classroom with low expectations. Olof was already wound up, rubbing his hands and beaming at her with that smile that almost distorted his narrow face. She looked around, wondering if everyone else in the room had also found the first thesis peculiar. They looked so unconcerned, as if staring at a piece of paper was the most natural thing in the world. Ellen Vingås was there too, laughing so loudly that her advisor shushed her. The only decoration on the white walls was a poster with the English phrase Simplicity is power.

Sofia wondered why it wasn’t in Swedish, but maybe the Swedish didn’t sound as nice.

‘Thesis number two!’ Olof said. ‘Are you ready?’

She nodded and sat down in front of him.

Thesis #2. You are your past.

What you are right now is a culmination of everything you’ve ever thought or done, and everything that has been done to you. You are the sum of your subjective and objective experiences. Thus you can change yourself through the thousands of choices you face each day. All the power you will ever find already exists within you, in your past.

Exercise: Your advisor will teach you to draw strength and energy from your memories.

‘We’ll be doing this exercise in my office,’ Olof said. ‘So we can work undisturbed.’

He closed the blinds halfway when they entered his small office, making everything look pale and grey. She sank into the puffy visitor’s chair while he fished a small piece of paper from the desk drawer.

‘Now close your eyes. I’m going to give you a few simple commands, and you should tell me what you’re seeing and thinking.’

The commands were brief, but he dragged out the words in a deep voice that was almost a whisper.

Remember a time when you felt strong.

Remember a time when you felt triumphant.

Remember a time when life was easy.

Recall your first achievement.

There seemed to be endless variations on the question, and he always had the next command on the tip of his tongue. She had a hard time recalling at first, but then incidents began to pop up. Hidden memories. Lovely images.

‘What do I do if a bad memory pops up?’ she asked, because she had been reminded of a bike accident when she had broken her arm.

‘Did you feel strong that time? Superior?’

‘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 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 were no pictures on the walls, no flowers, not even a single photograph — there were only white walls with enormous windows that looked out over the sea. She could see the lookout point in the distance. The office was otherwise full of electronics: computers, printers, screens, and gadgets she didn’t even know the names of. It occurred to her that this was odd, given that computers were forbidden at ViaTerra, but perhaps computers were indispensable when you were the boss.

Oswald himself was sitting at a large desk, absorbed in reading something on a computer. He didn’t look up when she came in. Madeleine, who was sitting at a much smaller desk in the far corner of the office, put a finger to her lips and gave Sofia a sharp look. Don’t disturb him, the look plainly said. Sofia cautiously took a seat in the visitor’s chair before Oswald.

He was wearing a T-shirt again. She noticed that the muscles of his back were taut and wondered if he was tensing them on purpose. There was a strange gleam in his eyes when he swung around in his chair, as if he expected her to say something. But she didn’t know what. His presence was so strong that she lost her composure and couldn’t speak.

‘Sofia, congratulations! I heard you finished the program. I hope it all went well.’

‘It was fantastic. Better than I expected.’

He drummed his fingers on the desk good-naturedly.

‘So, can I have your answer about the library now?’

‘Well, hmm, I’m interested, I just have to talk to everyone at home first.’

He leaned forward, placing his hand over hers on the desk. It was dry and warm. Hers jumped at his touch, but she didn’t pull it away.

‘No, you don’t get time to think it over, Sofia.’

‘Why not?’

‘The thing is, I think you’ve already made up your mind,’ he said, pressing her hand ever so slightly.

It was as if someone else were speaking through her. The words just fell from her mouth. She could see herself in profile, from outside her body as her mouth opened and the words slipped from her tongue.

‘Then I guess my answer is yes.’

Her voice echoed back at her as if from a void.

Oh my god. What have I gotten myself into?

‘You won’t regret it,’ he said, letting go of her hand and leaning back in his chair. ‘I’m sure you have things to take care of before you return, so just call Madeleine and let her know when you’ll be back.’

Then he spun around in his chair and went back to reading.

Madeleine shooed her from the office.

She stood outside his door for a long time, at a loss, shaken over what had just happened.

*

There would be innumerable times, later in life, when she would search her mind. Why on earth? What got into me? How could I? She always came to the same conclusion: it was a combination of factors. A seductive, irresistible blend. The beautiful island, the breadth of luxury, the food, the sleep, the feelings left behind after the theses; but above all, and she would be ashamed of this and have trouble admitting it to herself, it was Oswald and his power of attraction. This wasn’t a sect or a cult; it was something completely different. Almost like a new world — a microscopic vision of the future, brought to life.

ViaTerra was different.

But hindsight is twenty-twenty.

At the time, despite being disconcerted and sweaty all over, she still knew she had to come back to the island. Otherwise she would continue to be drawn there, like a moth to a flame.

And as she stood there in the corridor, alternately kicking herself and feeling bursts of dizzying euphoria, she found that she had a ridiculous smile on her lips.

We return to the cave several times.

We watch the rain move in over the bay and whip at the sea.

At night, we see the moon make a glittering path across the surface.

The cave is my special place. I can think clearly here. I think about my plan almost constantly. I examine it from every angle, picking at its seams; it’s as if I’m spinning a net that will one day cover the whole island.

Sometimes I’m so deep in thought that she shakes me for answers to her meaningless chatter. Then I wrestled her to the floor and grab her by the throat until her legs kick like crazy. A sign of her submission.

I know now that I can’t take her with me. She’s too flighty, and besides I’ve already explored every corner of her body and she’s starting to feel like a milk carton, once the milk is gone.

Although I will miss the cave.

The power in its hard walls.

You can see the whole universe from here.

You can even see the future, like a mirage on the horizon.