muravei: [eng] Dream 1 - The Steel Architect

A steely gray ocean, cold. The wind whipped the water into raw, frigid shapes, tirelessly slipping beneath the clouds. From the water rose enormous steel structures, immobile and colossal. They were impossibly massive, towering titanically over the gray-blue mirror.

The architect was crossing a high catwalk. She was short, Japanese-like features making up her face. She wore her short, smoky-black hair with an elegant minimalism, like a haiku. Her discreet face retained few soft curves. Strands of her hair danced in the wind. She surveyed her surroundings with a stern gaze - neither malicious nor joyful -, but with the tireless sharpness of the responsible.

She was the steel architect. Once, she had designed those ocean-rooted giants. Somehow, she had envisioned every detail. She knew by heart every sheet, rivet, and weld. She came from unknown, distant places.

She had been summoned by The General - also a woman, about as tall as herself - to repair the spherical top of a watchtower. The faulty dome was made of long, narrow sheets of steel spiraling upward. For some reason, the dome had started unraveling - and the architect already knew why.

The General walked ahead of the architect. From time to time, she gestured towards other nearby structures, which also seemed to be coming undone. We all watched (for I was there too, perhaps as an assistant to the architect) the unraveling sheets swaying in the wind above the ocean.

After a while, the architect asked The General:

'Did you follow my plans precisely?'
'Everything was done as it should be', replied The General.
'Clearly not, since here we are', the architect concluded.

We reached the ailing dome, from whose peeled sheets one could see all the way down to the surface.

'You followed the plans, but you used different steel here. Poor-quality steel. Isn’t that right?' asked the architect, this time with a trace of impatience in her voice.
'That’s right', confirmed the general, producing a baton to demonstrate.

She began striking each sheet with the tip of the baton, one hit each: ding... ding... ding... dum! The fourth strike produced a similar sound, but the architect’s trained ear instantly made out the inferior steel.

'From now on, use only what I tell you to. Otherwise, everything you have here will fall apart. Understood?' she asked.
'Understood', replied the general, nodding almost imperceptibly.

Then the architect took three steps toward the railing, folded her arms tightly against her body, and... leapt into the void!

The general and I - completely dumbfounded - looked at each other for a moment, frozen. Then we watched as the architect plunged into the abyss. She seemed to be falling forever! It looked as if she would crash into the first walkway below. But her trajectory, perhaps nudged by the wind or guided by some unknown skill, carried her diagonally toward the only visible patch of water far below, amidst the maze of beams, girders, pillars, and cables. At last, we saw her land safely (how, from such a height?!) in the water.