Testing the Monolith

I pushed myself up onto both boots. The polished timber stretched outward beneath the dim lamplight, broad and unyielding. Before me stood a towering cylinder of dark ceramic, cold and dense as quarried stone. I planted my feet against the grain, lowered my center, and drove both hands against its base. It resisted, then ground forward across the varnish with a low, resonant scrape. The ground held firm beneath my tread. Balance is restored.