NovoStruct Hard Hat Area

The river HF made its way through the RT valley, named for the many apple trees that populated the area. i was well-familiar with it, he said. I hadn’t an idea who he was, but he said he grew up close to Furlbow mound, a nearby hill where young folks had gathered in a farming community. My home, lT, was at the time the largest town in the region and I lived no more than a mile away from the inn. Before I had founded my construction business, I spent a fair amount of time by the stables, looking for odd jobs. People would often come in from outside of town, leave their horse there to get a meal and I would hassle them for a job. Fetch this, fetch that, but never as good an offer as i gave me.

To join him down the HF. I laughed. He had built a raft, he said. I laughed, what’s the pay? It was good. I stopped laughing. Some people up north–Furlbowers–had given him half upfront, a weighty sack of coins he showed me and he was offering about half. Half! A good deal, I said, to float on someone else’s raft. He agreed.

We set off promptly, albeit after some drinks and sleep, around noon the day after. Which was a Tuesday. What an unusual raft it was, a futuristic construction, although I could not quite imagine what I meant thinking that. We sailed smoothly on the first day, but come nightfall I had started to wonder what we were being paid to do. Cargo! i exclaimed, and I settled with that. The second day we encountered light rainfall. I predicted this, i said as he hid beneath a canopy, not large enough to cover the both of us, or so he claimed. I sat in the rain. It was light, but as wet as water gets.

By dusk I got curious once again, poking my eyes around. Was this ‘cargo’ on his person? A smallish pouch bulged under his undershirt. Is that the cargo? No, he said. He opened it. Empty, a large empty space inside, definitely not a thing. Is it instead in the locked chest? Maybe, he said, he wasn’t too sure. Is it onboard? Most likely yes was his answer, but he clearly had no idea. That well hidden? Must be really something! I exclaimed. He agreed.

The next day. Not rainy, but not sunny either. i was in a good mood regardless. Until noon, when he wasn’t. I think out of nowhere he said we were being followed. I didn’t see anyone and he told me not to look behind us. So I couldn’t see if I could see anyone either. He was tense and I was confused, but not afraid. Let’s hold post, he said, that night. I reluctantly agreed and sat up first. Looking at nothing, listening to some critters and wind, but no followers. After sitting for a while, I decided it was i’s turn. I told him with an elbow in his back, but he didn’t wake. He didn’t wake at all that night and that’s how I learned he was a darn good sleeper.

Awfully tired I was the next day. By noon I slept on the raft. The clouds had broken up and my head lay in the glaring sun. I dreamt of thunder setting me on fire and leapt up, my head burnt bright red and hot. I clearly hadn’t dreamt it, as a second flash hit right next to the raft, and water gushed all over. I fell into the stream and held onto the edge of a log, my eyes shut hard. A third flash struck the raft loudly—RA PANG—everything white behind my eyes. Hung on for an hour until all was quiet. When I pulled myself up I saw i spread out across the logs like a jumping squirrel and I knew the cargo had gone.

Installation by Amélie Mckee and Melle Nieling.

Made possible in part by a contribution from the Mondriaan Fund.