The Vault (1) Red Balloon, Blue Balloon

I made my way down the staircase into the Vault. There was a woman on reception, mid-30s, long brown hair, glasses. She looked up at me, then immediately looked back at whatever was on her desk.

"I'm here to use the facilities," I said.

"Have you booked?" she asked, not looking up.

"I didn't know you had to," I replied.

"Follow me," she said, leaving her reception desk and leading me to a booth around the corner. Inside the booth was a desk and chair, and on the desk a computer screen and a hamster cage, complete with hamster-wheel and hamster."

"The images come through directly onto the screen."

"How do I switch it on?"

"It comes on automatically when the hamster runs in it's wheel."

"The hamster?"

"It's how the system is powered. If you place it in the wheel you can encourage it. Right, I have things to do, I'll leave you to it."

I sat in the chair. As suggested I opened the door of the hamster cage, cupped it in my hands and placed it in the wheel. This was all the encouragement needed: the hamster began to run, the wheel began to spin and the screen came to life.

A young child is at the centre of the image. I recognise myself, aged about four, possibly younger. Though I had previously seen photos and this was the real thing.

I am sitting on a bed, wearing shorts and T shirt, and another child, my older brother is waving balloons at me.

"Red balloon," my brother says, waving the red balloon. His voice is squeaky-young, barely recongisable. 

"Red balloon," I repeat. My voice is squeaky-young, barely recongisable. 

"Blue balloon,"  my brother says, waving the blue balloon.

"Blue balloon," I repeat.

"Red balloon," he says again, though instead of waving it he hits me with it.

"Red balloon," I say uncertainly.

"Blue balloon,"  my brother says, and strikes me with the blue balloon this time.

This time I say nothing.

My brother continues to hit me with the two balloons in turn. Although it doesn't hurt, I know I am about to cry. There is no pain, just confusion, anger and an emotion I don't recognise, perhaps one I have grown out of, a feeling akin to lost trust.

For in addition to witnessing the image on screen, and hearing the conversation and the gentle thump of balloon hitting my younger self, I share the feelings and thoughts of the younger me. I am there: I am both witness and witnessed. 

I feel my anger and confusion building up. "Red balloon," my brother says and hits me with it, "blue balloon" he says and hits me with it. I am filled with humiliation, anger, confusion, the noise of my brother chanting, the slap of balloon after balloon hitting me. I battle the desire to cry, I know it would be foolish, a victory for my brother, one simply does not cry because one has been hit with a balloon, but I can't stop myself. I can feel the tears coming.

The screen went blank. The hamster had stopped running in his wheel. The image was gone, along with the sound and the feelings. The direct route into the soul of my past self cut off.

I waited a while to see if the hamster would spin its wheel again, but the moment was gone.