a steel sunflower

In the center of the bottom shelf lies a plate-sized metal dome. Its surface is covered with bead-like protrusions, each diamond-shaped at the base and tapering to a rounded top.

The whole thing is polished to an aggressive gleam. At a gut level, people shy away from looking at it. It is machine-like, alien, its purpose indiscernible but somehow vicious. If one can overcome the revulsion and stare into its hard surfaces, one can make out the reflection of almost every other object in the Display Case, with the obvious exception of the lacuna.

The disk is very heavy, seemingly solid, but if picked up and shaken, something thumps inside. The underside has been crudely scratched with the word “nINeteen” followed by another word that has been obliterated by scratches.

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