1

Let me begin by saying, the doctor told me there would be an adjustment period. What he didn’t say was anything about the blue skin. I’m not talking about my skin turning blue, no, that would have been weird enough. I’m talking about seeing it on everyone else. I woke up to find myself surrounded by either overgrown Smurfs, or Blue Man Group; take your pick.

Naturally, there was a reasonable explanation for my azure stained vision. Here’s the thing about that though. The instruction manual the surgical technician gave me had over three hundred pages and I’m dyslexic. So, I tossed it after the first five pages.

Had I read it, I would have better understood my condition and how to fix the anomaly. The truth is, glitch or not, in those first few moments… I simply didn’t care. I was so grateful for my restored eyesight, that I would have happily dealt with Smurf people permanently. Fortunately, that wasn’t necessary.

When I first learned that cancer would inevitably take both of my eyes, I had two choices. a world of never-ending darkness or total ocular replacement. Either way, I was told that the baby brown eyes I’d grown up seeing in the mirror had to go. It was either that or die. Some choice, huh?

My wife, Bernadette, and I thought we’d prepared for that reality, but in hindsight (forgive the pun), we really had no clue what awaited us. It turned out that the blue skin thing would go away once the sensors in my new eyes calibrated and adjusted to my neural pathways, but little did I know, it was only the beginning of what my implants would show me.

Now, I’m not talking about the ticker ads constantly scrolling at the bottom of my field of vision. The same ads that I’d refused to pay upfront to have removed. I’m not even talking about the never-ending pop-ups that the user interface bombarded me with to identify people and objects I’ve known my whole life. I want to tell you about how my new eyes would end up showing me a world that had been hidden from me my entire life and how that would ruin me.

When the doctors finally removed my bandages weeks after surgery, and light flooded my sensors for the first time, I remember searching for my wife. Surely, seeing her beautiful smile would reassure me that we’d made the right decision. Then I found her standing next to me, and when my new eyes met hers, she flinched.

“Oh no…” I gasped. “What happened? Did something go wrong?”

She looked at me and faked a smile. “No. Of course not. You look fine.”

Oh, that word. Fine quickly became the word I dreaded hearing her say. Every time I asked what was bothering her, fine became the word which confirmed for me that somehow everything between us had changed. A lie so convenient and practiced, that hearing it made me want to vomit. My wife refused to confess her new contempt for me while looking me in the eyes. In fact, she refused to look at me in the eyes at all.

Dándole al diablo lo que le corresponde, la primera vez que vi mis nuevos ojos en el espejo, también me tomaron por sorpresa. Antes de extirparme los ojos marrones que me había dado mi madre, los médicos los escanearon tanto por apariencia como para identificación biométrica de la retina. Mis nuevos implantes proyectaban imágenes reproducidas de los originales en la superficie LED de 10k de mis globos oculares biónicos. Todo lo que la tecnología moderna era capaz de hacer para que parecieran el par que siempre había tenido.

Sin embargo, su movimiento. No sé otra forma de decirlo más que se veía mal. Movimientos rápidos y mecánicos en lugar del movimiento muscular suave al que estaba acostumbrado. Peor aún, brillaban suavemente mientras proyectaban sus imágenes. ¿Cómo no iba a parecer una cosa mecánica? La naturaleza del inquietante valle de mis implantes resultaría demasiado amplia para cruzarla para mi cónyuge en los próximos días. Desafortunadamente, eso fue solo el principio.

2

La primera vez que noté las auras, pensé que mis implantes podrían haber funcionado mal, o tal vez todavía necesitaban calibración adicional. Olas de color emanaban de las personas, aparentemente al azar. Esperé un par de días para que la calibración se pusiera al día, pero luego noté un patrón. Los colores representaban diferentes emociones, y podía saber lo que la gente sentía en cualquier momento.

¿Creerías que el amor se ve naranja? Lo sé, ¿verdad? Ni rosa, ni rojo. El amor se ve naranja, y lo vi envolver a familias, amigos y parejas. ¿Quieres saber alrededor de quién nunca lo vi? Mi tan querido amado. A medida que pasaban más días, otro color comenzó a seguirla, pero solo en mi presencia. Una capa de energía negra creció lentamente a su alrededor, y se hizo más fuerte cuanto más tiempo pasaba cerca de mí.

“Me preocupo por ti”. Le dije un día, cuando su rostro se veía tan negro que solo sus fríos ojos azules perforaban su nuevo velo negro, “Sigo viendo algo… mal en ti”.

¿“Mal en mí?” Gritó con un tono mucho más oscuro que su aura, “¡Cómo te atreves! ¿Me miras con esas cosas viles y me dices eso? Solo me dan ganas de sacártelos…”

Estaba aterrorizada, y entonces noté la cuchara que Bernadette agarraba en su puño; justo antes de que se lanzara contra mí. Luchamos y logré escapar de ella, pero ya no tenía dudas de lo que significaba su aura negra. Mi esposa quería asesinarme. Algo en mis nuevos ojos se había vuelto contra mí, y me iba a costar la vida.

Después de que llamaron a la policía, me dijeron que necesitaba ayuda. Del tipo mental. Después de todo, ¿por qué alguien usaría tal excusa para golpear a su esposa? ¡Yo la golpeé a ella! Nunca olvidaré cómo sonrió cuando me dijeron eso. Por supuesto, al igual que nuestra pelea, fui la única que la pilló sonriendo. La policía, que estaba mucho más preocupada por leerme mis derechos, nunca la vio.

Durante mi juicio, resultó que no tenía otra opción más que ver a un psiquiatra. El juez que llevaba mi caso se aseguró de ello. A la charlatana que me enviaron le encantaba hablar de negación y transferencia, pero se negó a hacer lo único que más importaba: simplemente escucharme. Si me hubiera dado la oportunidad, incluso podría haber probado mis afirmaciones. Quiero decir, yo *sabía* de la bebé en su vientre, aún demasiado pequeña para mostrarlo, pero que ya hacía que su abdomen brillara con un suave naranja. ¿Cómo podía saber eso?

Lo único a mi favor era que, incluso si mi terapeuta se negaba a escuchar, mientras mantuviera mis citas, no podían encerrarme, al menos no todavía... Por otro lado, mi esposa había tendido astutamente otra trampa para mí, para asegurarse de que pasara tiempo en la cárcel.

Otra condición de mi liberación exigía una orden de restricción de 150 metros que obedecí religiosamente. Desafortunadamente, no sirvió de nada para evitar que esa figura negra familiar me buscara. Ahora, las autoridades quieren que todos crean que la pura coincidencia nos unió el día que me encerraron por segunda vez. Yo sabía que era mejor, sin embargo. Incluso intenté quitarle las manos de encima cuando se abalanzó sobre mí, ¡pero Jesucristo en el cielo, me aterrorizaba!

Cuanto más la apartaba, más me convencía de que tendría éxito en matarme esa segunda vez, y la había fastidiado; la golpeé. Le admití tanto al mismo juez que me sentenció la primera vez, pero él no quiso saber nada de eso.

“Señor, una vez… vergüenza para usted. ¿Dos veces, sin embargo? Vergüenza para mí si no intervengo para proteger a su pobre esposa”. Me dijo, incluso mientras se preparaba para llevar a cabo una sentencia que me pondría en la cárcel durante seis meses. ¡Seis meses! Nuestros papeles de divorcio ya estaban con mi abogado, así que una vez que pagara mi *deuda con la sociedad*, saldría de la cárcel con antecedentes penales y sin esposa. En ese momento, pensé que las cosas no podían empeorar para mí. Me equivoqué de nuevo.

Ese primer día en la cárcel del condado sentí como si me hubieran enviado directamente al Infierno. ¿Ese velo negro asesino que solo veía alrededor de mi esposa? Lo vi en todas partes en la cárcel. Espectros oscuros se arremolinaban a mi alrededor día y noche y mi pánico me consumía. No podía comer. No podía dormir. Por la noche, el suave brillo de mis implantes iluminaba mi celda hasta que llegaba la mañana. Más de una vez, el demonio que compartía mi celda me gritó.

“¡Cierra esos malditos ojos tuyos! No necesito ninguna maldita luz nocturna…”

Cuanto más pasaba eso; las nubes oscuras parecían extenderse como un virus. Los compañeros de celda se lo contagiaban a los guardias. Los guardias se lo contagiaban al personal de cocina. Parecía que nadie era inmune a ello, y en cada momento, temía por mi vida. ¿Una navaja de un prisionero en la ducha? ¿Un golpe de la porra de un guardia en el pasillo? Quizás recibiría un tazón de sopa envenenada del tipo de la cocina. Cuanto más tiempo permanecía, cualquier cosa podría haberme pasado, y aparentemente, a nadie le importaba.

It turned out that my unavoidable attacker would end up coming after me in the yard. The lying guard on duty told the warden that I went nuts after a stray basketball hit me on the head. He saw the ambush, but he said nothing! Based on the guard’s report alone, the warden gave me solitary confinement for a week.

Fine by me, by the way! Until then, I hadn’t slept so well since they incarcerated me. Even so, I still wouldn’t eat the food they brought me. So, my week of “R&R” vaporized into only three days before the guards jerked me from my cell and strapped me to a bed in the infirmary.

The doctor jammed needles in my arm and used vinyl tubing to deliver regular doses of sedatives to my bloodstream. Then the warden brought in a specialist to insert a feeding tube. I watched helplessly as they pumped servings of God knows what into me. I waited for the cramps of poisoning to come. They never did. After a few days, I began wondering if my captors enjoyed watching me wait for death. Pretty soon, I just wanted it to end and depression took me. 

3

My captors must have taken objection to that. They informed me that I had become so despondent, that a priest had been called in to come talk to me. When he walked into the infirmary, I said nothing, and faked sleeping to see if he’d leave me alone.

“They tell me you want to die, my son. Have you lost all faith in heaven?”

I opened my eyes to my visitor for the first time since his arrival. He flinched at their soft glow, but the orange aura surrounding the priest proved he was a creature of love. Love for a deity I had long given up on.

“Father, ever since they gave me these eyes, I’ve seen the truth of mankind. Murderers follow me everywhere and though I no longer believe in it, I can’t help but wonder… Has heaven punished me for seeing too much?”

Like a flare in the night, the priest’s orange aura glowed brighter, and I felt humbled in its presence. I began to believe this beacon in the darkness had come to save me, if I could just hold on…

“You say these demons showed up when you got those new eyes of yours, my son?”

I nodded. Tears streamed from the artificial ducts crafted to keep my implants wet.

“Oh my…” my visitor gasped before rushing for the door. I called out desperately. “Please don’t leave me with them, Father! Please!”

Thankfully, he hadn’t left me for long before coming back with the doctor. The physician looked at my charts extensively before asking the priest a single question. “You’re positive?”

My savior nodded solemnly and then made the sign of the cross before leaving me for good that night. The next morning, the surgical technician who installed my implants visited my bedside. The jail’s doctor and the priest stood silently behind her as the technician waved a glowing wand over my face.

“Oh my, you’ve lived like this for months? No wonder you went crazy. Here, try this…” she said, and a bright flash came from the wand in front of my face. My display went all white and then when it came back, the word “calibrating” flashed on screen for several moments. When my vision eventually returned, the auras had vanished.

“Wha… what did you do to me?” I asked the technician.

She shook her head disapprovingly and said, “About one in every 150,000 people develops the visual phenomenon you call auras. The surgery also caused a glitch of overproduction of the adrenal and pituitary glands. We don’t know why it happens… yet.

“Even so, we discuss it heavily in the manual we gave you. If you had read it and contacted us at the first sign of symptoms, we could have performed the procedure I just did for you. See what happens when you don’t follow your doctor’s orders.”

I looked over to the priest, who stood back in the corner with a very glum look on his face. “How did you know?” I asked.

At first, his voice stammered. “Well… We don’t usually talk about such things, but when somebody comes to us for an exorcism, we first check for signs of mental illness. We prefer not to seek help from heaven for something earthly in origin. Since the implementation of the ocular replacement surgery, we’ve seen a spike in mental health crises. Your new eyes clued me in…”

The priest’s explanation left me in disbelief and left the corporate technician with something of a worried look on her face. “Just a glitch?” I asked, looking back at her. “I knew things—things I couldn’t know. I knew about my shrink’s pregnancy. How could I know that?”

“Micro-expressions,” the technician said matter-of-factly. “You call it body language. Your overstimulated brain took visual cues and interpreted them as best it could. In layman’s terms… you got lucky on that one. Think about all the things you got wrong. If you do the math, the answer becomes even “a broken clock tells the time correctly twice a day.””

The room fell awkwardly quiet, and the technician must have felt some obligation to break the silence. “If it helps things, I went ahead and upgraded you to the ad free plan at no charge!” Her pitiful attempt at sympathy garnered nothing but harsh glares from everyone in the room. Everyone but me, actually.

Though several people were surrounding me at the time, I never felt so alone. Laziness on my part had landed me divorced and in jail. The pit I was staring up from seemed far too deep to climb up and out of alone.

“What happens to me now?” I asked pitifully.

“I imagine…” The priest spoke up to say, “From here the lawyers and judges will have all the say, of course, but it seems to me that you have some compelling new evidence to present in your defense. I want to testify to my experience within the church, too. It seems like something we should have spoken up about sooner. Don’t feel alone, my son.”

Then the priest looked coldly over at the technician, while still talking to me, “You might even have grounds for a civil suit when everything shakes out. As frequently as the church has encountered your condition, one in 150,000 cases seems a bit optimistic to me. Maybe, worth more than some quick mention in a handbook.”

Refusing to be baited, the technician stormed from my room in a huff. My new friend came to my bedside and held my hand. Honestly, until that day, I never believed in a higher power. Not really, anyway. Even though medical science felt confident it could explain my condition, how about my deliverance from it? How could I ignore such a sign delivered by a servant of heaven, no less? I believe religion and science agree on one very important idea. Things happen for a reason.

I don’t know if I needed to lose my eyes before I could see things so clearly. I do know that wonky bionics or not, my view of the world around me has changed for the better. The judge agreed with me on at least that much, though he refused to admit his mistake in judgment concerning my character. All the same, he had no choice but to release me. The evidence and testimony brought forward were incontrovertible. Without so much as an apology, he gave me back my freedom.

However, the judge must have felt some lingering and nagging resentment with his final verdict, though. Before I could leave the courtroom accompanied by my attorney and my new spiritual leader and friend, the court asked me one final question. Try as he might, he couldn’t mask the spite in his voice.

“Have you learned anything valuable from all this, sir?”

I looked back at him and grinned. “I have. Next time, I’ll read the instructions.”