BACK AND FORTH-I

CHAPTER 3

                                                              CHAPTER  THREE

                                                     THE DAWNING OF REALITY

    I needed to speak to Maria, to inform her that I would be home later than I had intend; but not to tell her that we were going back to the house to knock down a wall. Nonetheless, honesty being the best policy, and I had a way out if she said no; so I informed her what had transpired.  With a little trepidation, I told her about the bricks that Peter and I wished to remove. I'm taken aback with utter surprise, when Maria gave us the go-ahead to do what we intended, especially when I heard her say that she is keen for me to get it out of my system, as she put it. I guessed that honesty does pay a dividend, for she informed that I'd only do it anyway, and she'd rather I do it sooner, than later. God, I love that woman!

   Hammers and bolster-chisels in hand, Peter and I set too, and made good progress attacking the mortar round each brick. At either end of a row of bricks, we started, working at a leisurely pace. It took sometime to remove the mortar, but at last we broke through. With flash-lights in hand we saw, clearly, to our astonishment, that the wall had been bricked up from the inside. Yet, the wall had been finished, too, from outside. Inside, there were bricks with bags of mortar and sand, stacked neatly against the wall that led to steps to a cellar that is not marked on our plans.

      "It seems safe enough,  Anton," said Peter, peering into the darkness. "Take a look down there." Peter moved aside, enabling me room to take a closer look.

      "It looks dry, but I don't see the bottom of the steps, as they turn to the right. I guess that if we took out a few more bricks, we could climb in and take a look. I don't smell dampness; maybe an ozone sort of smell, but I can't imagine where that would emanate from." I began feeling a little more confident. I asked Peter what he thought of the idea of enlarging the hole, and I noticed his grin, coupled with a boyish twinkle in his eye.

      "Let's get to it," he said.

  Half an hour passed before we had a hole big enough to step through with ease. I noticed a light switch on the wall, and activated the switch. The light came on, but then the light-bulb, as ever these aged luminaires do, died. It was, perhaps, seventy five years old.  As luck would have it, I had two-dozen new L.E.D. light bulbs in the car, that I was to fit sometime during our stay, so I'm able to change out the old luminaire for modern standard, high output, low current type L.E.D.  At last we could put away our flash-lights.

    We made our way, cautiously, down the thirteen, steep steps, to the cellar. Moments later we were confronted by a door, made of the finest oak, carved with all manner of symbols, from depictions of the moon to galaxies and much more. The door handle is a brass, with ornate scroll-work and a keyhole. I wondered if the door is locked. Gingerly, I reached for the handle and pushed. The door opened to a  darkened room. I had left my flash-light upstairs, and as I turned to retrieve the light, I noticed that Peter had already done so.

       "It's your home, Anton," said Peter, his flat palm, held out as if to confirm the obvious. Peter always called me by that name, and I never did inquire as to why he did so.

  As Peter handed me the flash-light, and, as I flicked on the flash-light, I felt a sense of trepidation. I searched along the wall for a light switch and found one. There is a loud click, and a flood of florescent light lit an amazing sight. I stood aghast, not knowing what to think. The room is a fully equipped physics laboratory, an array of equipment so modern as to astound even the most eminent physicist.