Space like the weather
As we traverse the tower unhindered by walls or spatial obstacles, I think of these molecular, outer-space clouds. Like here, in this point cloud, particles in interstellar clouds form clusters of higher density. These are the so-called clumps, where more dust and gas cores congregate. From the clumps, stars can form if the gravitational forces are strong enough to cause the dust and gas to collapse.
I imagine myself inside the space in these clouds. It’s moving around me, more than I’m moving through it. Sometimes the cloud is denser, like wafts of mist passing by. Maybe it’s like the weather that shifts and transforms: clouds darken the sky, and the wind picks up. A sense of foreboding. A ray of light breaks through the sticky clouds.
In space that’s like the weather, all boundaries are temporary. Configurations are infinite. Thresholds are endless. With every shift, the atmosphere adjusts, and the new situation seems unprecedented and familiar at once.
Space like a waterfall
Now the soundscape changes and begins to rush through the void like a waterfall. Spatially, this tower could contain a waterfall. Around forty meters is also the height of the world’s tallest indoor waterfall at Singapore airport, the Rain Vortex. It looks like a rain hurricane stopped in its tracks, forced to stand still. The space taken up by a waterfall is as inaccessible as a void (or an empty tower), unless
you can defy gravity, like a salmon with its unstoppable reproduction instincts. For the salmon, the river is a kind of extended threshold: the ocean at one end, and at the other, the place where the salmon hatched, will spawn, and will die. It’s not a threshold that begins in one place and ends in another. Instead, it’s rather like a loop.
Similarly, as I am immersing myself further in the digital tower, I am guided along several loops–up- and downward, past coils of neon light, through foliage, and into a grassy patch with thin long leaves that emerge from the black bottom of the void in looping squiggles.