Would Rather Be Whistling in the Dark

There's being in the dark and there's being in the dark.

For a moment, everything was pitch black. At least it seemed pitch black. The lighting changed faster than my eyes could adjust. I could see nothing. Then hints of faint hallway lighting seeped around the corner from behind me, offering just enough light for me to hazily make out my surroundings. It felt more like sonar might be like than actual vision. It was as if I sensed what was around me more than I could see it.

This made me uncomfortable. I didn't like not being able to see where I was. As well as I felt I knew the Museum, wandering around it in the dark wouldn't be the same as wandering around my house in the dark. I'm home a lot. I know where everything is located. There it feels silly to have the shadows be creepy. For some reason, it felt perfectly natural for the shadows to be filled with trouble here. Why had the lights gone out? They couldn't have expected us all be gone already. And what about the tables? They still needed collecting. This just didn't feel right.

I stepped back and whirled around. There seemed to be an emergency light near the entryway to the African hall to my left. Due to its positioning, little of its light was making its way towards us. There was a faint glow off to the right, probably where the animal dioramas change, around the curve. Carefully I stepped forward, trying to discern where the 'work in progress' barrier was so that I didn't trip over it.

The lights in Morocco suddenly snapped on.

I'm not proud of my reaction to this lighting change. I squeaked in surprise. I jumped. I bumped into something and that surprise made me squeak again. 'Something' turned out to be Larry. He flipped on a flashlight, allowing me to see his calm expression. “Motion sensors.” When this didn't immediately slow my heart rate back to normal, he spoke further. “Motion sensors lit up the case.”

I laughed, at myself more than anything else. “Yes, of course.” One quiet afternoon I'd walked the Museum with a friend, approached a display case that wasn't lit and, as I commented on how that shouldn't be, tripped the sensor to reactivate it. It was an impressive piece of timing.

Returned to the hallway, it was time for decisions. What was next? Just head for the exit? Say something to a guard about Larry and Harry? See why the lighting had gone out so soon? Wait to help with the table collection? If they were really keen to have us leave the building, wouldn't they have said something over the loudspeaker system? Something just seemed odd.

My pondering ceased as the lights suddenly came back on at full intensity. It was blinding. Blinking back tears, I struggled to watch as the lights flicked on and off. The loudspeaker system crackled to life. There was some thumping as the microphone was adjusted. “At this time the Museum is closed. Please exit the Museum. Thank you.” There was some further microphone adjusting before the sound stopped again.

I've been politely encouraged to leave the Museum before. I can't tell you that I have that speech memorized or anything like that. What I can tell you is that the speech I heard didn't sound right. At the same time, it was accurate; it was time to leave.

The lights had been left off once the flicking ceased. “I'd guess you've got fifteen minutes before they'll come looking for you.”

Larry blinked at me. “You don't care if we continue?”

“Why should I? Besides, if you leave before they lock up, what have you done wrong? Nothing.” I smiled at him through the gloom. “I hope you find what you're looking for.” He smiled, we shook hands, and I headed off for the escalator.

On my way there, I passed Harry, who was returning to Morocco. While he greeted me cheerfully, he was clearly distracted by his trouser leg, the cuff of which looked wet. I must have observed it for a moment longer than I thought as Harry nervously chuckled to distract me from it. “I had some slight difficulty with my hiding place,” he explained.

“Were you in The Living Seas exhibit?” I asked, teasing.

He frowned briefly, as if questioning my sanity, before his genial smile returned. “That was it precisely sir.”

With that level of understanding reached, we continued on our separate ways.