Black and grey realism tattoo of a hand holding a reflective sphere, which shows a seated man in a room, across the back of a bald scalp.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Reflective sphere tattoo on a scalp

Realism · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A bald head is photographed from behind, with a tattoo across the scalp showing a hand holding a convex sphere. The sphere reflects a room containing a seated man in a suit, bookshelves, a window and a chair, all drawn with fine shading. The tattoo is rendered in sepia-toned greys, set against a gold-framed backdrop with a colourful corner.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The sphere on Ilse Varga's desk had been polished so many times that its edges had gone soft, and the room it held had softened with them. I was meant to be logging it for the Lantern Archive, one more relic from the Ring Four salvage, but I kept finding excuses to sit with it. Bookshelves curled up the curve of the glass. A window let in a light that matched no sun the station had ever tracked. In the middle of it all sat a man in a dark suit, reading with his legs crossed, patient as furniture.

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Nobody on the crew had ever seen him. The survey drones mapped every compartment of the ring twice, and none of them held a room with a window onto nothing, or a chair turned to face the hand that cradled the sphere. I measured the reflection with calipers and got numbers that would not sit still. Each time I looked up from my notes, the man had turned a page further on, though the glass insisted he had not moved.

On the ninth day I pressed my palm flat against the sphere's cold shell, the way you would test a hull seal in a storm, and felt the metal give slightly, like skin. Ilse came in with the rations and found me on the floor. The sphere sat on the desk reflecting the room again, but now there were two chairs, both empty, and a door standing open at the back that no plan had ever shown.

I did not go through. I wrote the report that afternoon. Under Condition I put: reflective, stable, rear door not on any survey. Under Custodian I wrote my own name, then crossed it out and wrote the man's, because he had been waiting in that chair far longer than I had been alive to watch him.

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