It’s no ordinary music cabinet. Of course, you can’t tell that from one single glance, especially not from just across the room, but, as you begin to search, the metal begins to surge with some mystical power, turning whiter even in the dim light. You notice that it is grained, as if a large machine has run its tendrils over the metal. Or…you ponder, as if this cabinet is really made out of wood…
You shove your weight onto it, but the object does not budge. It does not swing sideways, as you might have imagined, and it does not open up to reveal a different world. You continue your search, not letting disappointment engulf you much.
You push past the instruments that this cupboard had been designed to store, throwing to the floor various xylophones, which bounce mellifluously. Searching, you easily rearrange those metronomes to a higher shelf so that they are out of your way. There’s a stack of music on top of a metal crate. You go to move it when something catches your eye.
An arrow. Pointing down.
At first you believe it is signalling a means to the floor, perhaps to that trap-door, but then your eyes drift from the arrow scribbled to the music itself.
‘There is no trap-door, lying; find truth behind the arrow’ it declares in a dramatic sequence of ascending notes.
So, as you find yourself humming a Requiem of sorts, you lift up the music, revealing a simple box of beaters.
Most of the musical beaters are worn from use. You rummage around, trying to remove all of the old pieces so that you are able to remove the crate itself, when you notice two odd xylophone beaters, miraculously preserved. You inspect them, but do not touch them. It’s for the best, you presume.
One slopes upwards, the other downwards; which do you grip your hands upon?