I was entering an art exhibit, which was filled with actors playing parts along a long hall. The first stop was a table with a man explaining through a megaphone that it was the future, and man had needed a way to tell humans apart from robots. Because of "ribozyme" in human but not robot blood, there was a simple enzyme test: human blood would come out orange but robot blood would come out blue. This set the stage for the main exhibit, which had people with different stories sitting or walking about, recognizable by their elaborate makeup and special but differing hats. Once past a certain checkpoint, however, I was thrown into the action: there was a war going on. There was some commotion involving men in business suits, and I tried to run back out but the doors were locked.

My sister and I ended up boarding a plane. I watched as though sitting on the wing as we first fired a rocket from the nose of the plane - what was that for, I wondered? I started to panic as we landed roughly on a metal-lined path, then took off and landed one more time, skidding into the metal sheeting and scraping along it for far too long. Finally, we took off again and could see other airplanes getting hit or firing guns chaotically. We watched a small biplane kamikaze into the tail of a much larger plane, and i was worried that the casualty rate would be high. Fortunately, after much of the plane burned away, there was only the one pilot and he was blackened like in a cartoon, but otherwise okay. Somehow he managed to land without a tail.

Suddenly, I was back in the exhibit again, starting from the same table with the man with the megaphone. This time, though, the exhibit occupied an entire museum floor, and I listened to the man's speech with a little more attention. The same setup was as before, with the costumed actors playing their parts in thematically distinct, decorated sections. There were sad characters moping at tables, others that appeared to be lively shop owners, and still others that were simply dancing around. I wanted to engage them like we were supposed to, but couldn't think of a good starting line. I ended up just walking around watching. There was one area where a businesswoman couldn't believe that she was a robot and started freaking out.

The long hall was still there, but now I walked into an expansive room that was much livelier and interactive. There was, for example, a large area filled with rows of shimmering water-filled tables, each sprinkled with small flowers. There was a woman at one crowded table giving a demonstration on how to arrange them. Another setup was a small pool table that looked like it was made entirely of felt, including the balls. The proprietor sank four balls in one shot, and they all went down a hole exactly in the middle of the table, from different angles. I was quite impressed.

Finally, I went out into what looked like an ancient grey stone-and-mortar hallway surrounding the exhibit and saw an amazing expanse of desert lands through a large alcove. There was something a little off about how things moved, and on closer inspection, the end of the alcove was an enormous set of mirrors. Recessed away up top, so that you had to get close and crane your head up to see it, was a massive painting of the desert. Because of the clever way the mirrors were set up, from farther away the view stretched infinitely off in either direction, and parallaxed properly no matter where you moved. I was in awe and thought it should be more famous. As I was walking out, I saw an enormous spider that took up the width of the hallway behind me. I wasn't scared, but watched it slowly until it moved up out of view, my eyes almost popping out of my head! I heard some other people scream and run off.

As I exited the building, I recognized it as an ancient baron's home that had been converted into a museum downtown. Right next door was a Korean restaurant that had been the first place Merry and I had had dinner after moving in (not in real life though). I was hit by a wave of nostalgia and felt that the heavy night air was rather comforting and the muted downtown darkness quite romantic. It was then, though, that I suddenly realized that I didn't have my phone and no one was coming to pick me up! I was stranded, and felt bad that I hadn't told Merry or my parents when I would be done. While panicking and walking frantically around the nearby streets, I suddenly saw my dad sitting on a stone seat trying to call me. His face lit up when he saw me, and we started to head home.

posted by Larry at 8:07 AM