Lalli handed Mikkel a closed plastic box as they climbed into the carriage that would take them from Reykjavík to Reynir's home. “Ah, thank you,” Mikkel replied, turning to Emil for an explanation.
“I have no idea,” Emil said as they took their seats. “We were passing a salvage shop, and he just ran inside and pointed at that box. So the shopkeeper sold it to him, and he wouldn't let me see it. He said 'For Mikkel', so that's all I know.”
Mikkel opened the box to find something like a pair of red binoculars, still in their pre-Rash plastic case, and several disk-shaped containers. All of the objects had writing on them, but not in a language he could read. Puzzled, he carefully pulled away the plastic and examined the binoculars. They were light plastic, and he could find nowhere to insert batteries. There was a slot across the top and a lever on the right-hand side. He peered through the eyepieces, but he saw nothing, just a glowing white blank. Frowning, he worked the lever and looked again. The view was unchanged.
He looked over at Onni, addressing him in Icelandic. “Please thank Lalli for me. But … why did he give me this? What does it do?”
The older Finn gave him an irritated look but turned to his cousin. After several exchanges, he turned back. “We don't know what it is. He saw it in the shop window and felt it should be yours. So he got it for you. That's all we know.”
Mikkel turned the device over again, wishing he could read the words. Tuuri probably could have. After more than six weeks, that thought still hurt.
Setting the object in the box, he opened a disk-shaped container. Within were several white plastic disks with openings cut all the way around, just inside the perimeter. Holding one up, he saw pieces of film in the openings, so small that he could not make out their different colored patches. There was writing on the disks as well. What was he supposed to do with these?
He picked up the device and studied the slot on top. It was the right size … He slipped a disk into the slot, then peered though the eyepieces. There were bushes; there were trees; there were snow-capped mountains. He was pleased at the bright clear images, though there was something strange about them.
His hands tightened on the device, and he consciously loosened them for fear of breaking it. The bushes stood away from the trees; the trees stood away from each other and the mountains. He did not see the flat image that was normal for him; he was seeing three dimensions! Somewhere deep in his brain, synapses that had slept since two-year-old Mikkel was knocked unconscious in an accident … awakened.
Sigrun nudged him. “Hey. You going to let us look at it too?”
How long had he been staring at it, reveling in the depths it revealed? For a moment, he resented her question. She saw three dimensions all day; they all did; he could only see them through this little toy. But she did not know that. He had admitted to her that he had “a spatial awareness issue”, but not that he was unable to perceive three dimensions, and he had told the others nothing. Rather than discuss his visual problems, he passed the device to her, murmuring, “Please be careful with it.”
The object made the rounds of the carriage, Mikkel watching with concealed anxiety as it passed from hand to hand. Even Lalli took a turn. At last, it came back to the Dane, who peered through it, fearing that the third dimension might be gone again. No, it was still there. After studying the image, filing it away in his mind, he reached up and, greatly daring, worked the lever.
A new image! He savored the image until the others began to mutter, then passed it around. And so they proceeded, viewing all seven images on the first disk, then those on the second, until the evening drew on and they could not longer see the images clearly. Mikkel put everything away in his precious box, and turned to Onni. “Thank Lalli for me again. This … this is a treasure.” Upon translation, the scout gave him a quick smile before curling up against Onni to sleep.
On their arrival at Brúardalur, Mikkel trailed along behind the others, as was his wont. Last to enter, he turned to the doorknob, meaning to close the door, and froze. The doorknob stood out from the flatness that was his world. He stared, swallowed, reached for it, saw his hand separate from the flatness as well. With the door closed, he looked around the entryway. He saw it as flat as usual … almost. Almost he could see the third dimension.
He looked down at the plastic box under his arm. A few hours gazing at the images had given him a taste of the third dimension. He had several more containers of disks. What would days of studying them do for him?
“Hey, Mikkel, you get lost back there?” He hurried to join Sigrun.
The third dimension was waiting for him.