Unseen
by Michael Smith

 

 

We’d used this room before for earlier meetings, and space had never really been a problem. We’d all fitted in the room with little discomfort. Until today, that is.

Now the room somehow seems smaller than before; less space available. With some embarrassment we all shifted a little closer together. It wasn’t a real problem, just inconvenient, and a little uncomfortable, both physically and socially.

And, what was that strange, earthy smell?  It hadn’t been there the last time we used this room. Does a crowd have a distinctive smell? I’m not sure, but I had a childhood recollection of the smell; one that, at this moment, I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t unpleasant; more unusual, particularly in this setting, with this group of people.

The meeting started, and we all got down to business as usual. Same sort of small-talk to begin with, increasing in intensity as we all grew a little more comfortable in each other’s presence; able to push back a few boundaries, let down a few masks. Occasionally, though, we heard a sound like the blast of distant trumpets. In some cases, it was sufficiently loud to interrupt conversations, but not all of them. Once again, childhood memories were stirred. I knew I’d heard that sound before, but where and when? It evoked pleasure, rather than fear. And the curious expressions on the faces of others in the room led me to conclude that the same recollection was passing through other minds. But, we all had too much important business to discuss, and were unwilling to be distracted by such trivial interruptions as our childhood memories.

What did eventually attract a little more of our attention, however, was a shower of water cascading over us, diluting drinks and ruining hair styles. Was the building sprinkler system faulty? I hadn’t seen anyone smoking. No alarm was penetrating the air. Curious.

It was then, during a lull in the conversation, that I realized we’d all been ignoring the elephant in the room.

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