Rob Ollis
| A deserted, dimly lit hall, a single window, high near the ceiling, a single shaft of light across a shopping mall. Derelict and decayed, the walls grimy and stained, the glass fronts of the various retail outlets long ago shattered and strewn across the muck marble floors. Dog shit, dingy yellowed news-print and splintered glass, the intestinal deluge of the post-consumerist society. The absent glass of the shop front window frames leaves exposed dim caverns, once outlets for consumer durables, now retailing only the piss stinking story of last night's alcohol, steadily imbibed and pissed out onto the mindless floor, by the night-time inhabitants of these hollow caves. |
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In the main hall, the
single beam of lifeless grey light, diagonal from the high window, across to the farthest
corner, at floor level, barely accentuates the shadowy figure of a man. Standing,
facing a small recess in the wall, his hand manipulating a chromed lever, coloured lights
from a video screen playing around his dark hollowed eyes. The body static, his hand
moves purposefully, reacting in time to the colours that showed, now a red brow, blue
mouth, orange eye. A flash of light from dark eye socket. Amorphous colour, jerk,
digital hand, expression detached. Flesh machine on automatic, chrome machine now
alive. The lights of the video machine search each orifice. Blue light search
mouth, lips numb and cold, teeth short and jagged. Green light, curve across sore
cold nose, curve into nostrils, search, cold green. Machine recognisance, probing
zombie face. Rob Ollis |
| Blue light flash across eyes,
fades and like an afterthought returns. Eyes now scared, blue light registers
reponse. Organic unit located, blue light locks into eye sockets. Dark blue,
throbs, pales now to icy blue and seers hard into terrified eyeballs. Locked on, the
yes offer resistance, angry light now scorches white, piercing frightened animal eyes into
submission, like leopard teeth in catatonic bird, glassy eyed and dead, all but screaming
heart pounding, boom, boom. White light, crash! now iridescent glow around
porcelain orbs, cold and hard, to receive like cups. The light turns to orange, thin
shaft through pupil window, the master arrives. A dream enters the mind, warm limbs, sinewy thighs wrapped around each other, soft dark hair, glistening in the crevices of mmmnn! the eloquent beauty of fresh smelling sweat. Smell, the language of two bodies when pleasure hides the words............................ His fear now resolved, his hand looses grip on the chrome lever. No more lights from the v.d.u., he stands, impassive, his face benign. Turning from the machine, he walks, shoes crunching the shattered glass. |
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