Darkness, Fear and a Toilet

Those of you who are regular readers of this blog . . . that is, no one in the entire free world . . . know that one of many fears here upon this prisoner-isle is being spirited away in the dark of night.








Yes. By who? By who else--The Apparatus!

So it was much to said fears that that's sort of what happened recently.






Yes the authoritative authorities came knocking at my authority-provided apartment and demanded that I go with them.

At least I got to get dressed (and grab my beloved camera) before we set out in the very-cold cold of very-early early morning.

I was taken to Apparatus Headquarters--or at least the Prisoner Interrogation Wing of their ever-shifting quarters. I do not know how many buildings The Apparatus owns on the island, or even within Soybean Island City. I do know where their main or home office is and have never posted a photo of it (except obliquely) due to the secretly-sancrosanct and seditious nature of it and doing so. Etc. Anyway , . . .

Once at the location, I was promptly left alone for a spell.

Here is what I could, surreptitiously, record:





And:






Also:




What surprised me and yet it should not, no, indeed, not, nothing should surprise me, was that even at one of the many floating detention and interrogation centers of The Apparatus, there was artwork:





Ah. As a distraction, I contemplated what to make of this sculpture. What critique could I offer? . . . From this vantage it had somewhat the look of a Steel Seal balancing a ball with its flippers. I do not know if seals or any other aquatic mammals live along the coast of Soybean Island, as I--like all citizens and the prisoner class--have not seen the coast, or even a hint of the sea. It is disallowed. But the sculpture no doubt portrays a more sinister concept than that of a seal at play. Certainly. My guess that it depicts some poor poor soul about to be crushed by an iron cannonball of great heft and density, the captive's arms outstretched hopelessly in order to catch or vainly divert the three ton behemoth that will end his/her/its life.

Yes. I can see that.


After a bit they--who they were or are is not important and of course I could not describe them or, for that matter, even look at them in order to describe them--they took me to a room where they asked gentle and ungentle questions and confiscated my dear camera.

Wah. Wah.

That was all I could tell them.

They again warned me not to stray too far about the island. Not to lose my job as An Object of Curiosity.

They did not return my camera, but when they allowed me to use the bathroom this is where I found it:





Ah.

Another sculpture!


But now that I am back to my usual unsafe and unsound haunts, I realize that I must report this report and encounter-with-The-Apparatus to my new and even more secretive boss', the Eye-Nye-Hab Descendants. The Anti-Snailians who have taken me--or forced me--under their wing in order to foment a revolution.


So, I shall have to hunt them down to inform.

Consider yourselves informed.


Goodbye from Soybean Island