Manipulation by Ning Cai

Author:Ning Cai
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Epigram Books

I decide to walk since the weather is fine, but the skies start to grey once I near the National Museum. I remember being absolutely elated about finding a unicorn on the building’s exterior the last time I was there, when CK and I were in Primary Six. The regal beast is part of Queen Victoria’s coat of arms, according to our form teacher. A crash of thunder sounds overhead just as raindrops start to fall, forcing me to tear my gaze away from the frolicking unicorn and dash up the steps leading to the rotunda.

Looking up at the impressive dome, I can’t help but feel awestruck by the beauty of natural sunlight filtering through its kaleidoscopic-stained glass panels. But the clouds darken further and I hear another deafening crack of thunder before the rain becomes a downpour. Life in the tropics. My fingers play with the pendant around my neck, feeling the imprint of hieroglyphics, as I look around the museum lobby, scanning for multicoloured dreadlocks. It’s early but there’s already a staggering crowd of visitors.

I pick up the scent of patchouli the same time someone taps my shoulder from behind. It’s Sunny in ripped jeans and a David Bowie T-shirt. Locks tucked under a slouchy hat, their outfit of the day is on fleek. “Hey, Boss.”

“Seriously.” I can’t help but smile. “Will you please stop calling me Boss?”

“Okay, Boss.” Sunny grins, leading us towards the ticket counter. I’m given a sticker with today’s date, which I slap on the front of my dress. Turns out that entry to the museum is free since we’re both local. I follow them up the escalator, towards a cylindrical-shaped building.

“You come here often?” I ask, as we switch our phones to silent.

“Whenever I seek inspiration,” they say. “I want to show you my favourite thing here. Well, my next favourite, after the Singapore Stone.” Sunny notices my puzzled expression. “The Singapore Stone is one of our national treasures, possibly from the tenth century. It was really unfortunate that British colonisers blew up the original rock, and since nobody’s been able to decipher the script on the surviving slab of limestone, it’s always been a mystery. But I quite like it that way. Anyway, here we are: Story of the Forest.”

A massive black curtain faces us. I throw Sunny a questioning look, but they gesture for me to go ahead. I pull aside the heavy fabric and step in…only to find myself entering another world.

“Whoa,” I breathe, finding myself on some kind of bridge once my eyes adjust to the dark. Animated light projections of blooming petals in all varieties tumble down from the dome high above our heads, their vibrant colours bringing a burst of life to the darkness surrounding us. It feels trippy, like we’re in the middle of an infinitely-expanding universe. A sweet floral scent tickles my nose, something the artists and curators must have planned as part of the experience.

I take in the explosion of cascading flowers that swirl

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