[The Great Blinding] Part 5
A sense of peace came over me, just briefly. Then colors flashed; the round blue logo of the company, the rainbow assortment inside the candy jar on the receptionist's desk, the geometric patterns of the carpet flooring. The fog was blue and it was black and it swirled and churned even where moments before there had been no fog. Then it went dark again, a darkness so black that even a hint of grey would have been comforting. I pulled against the sinewy tendrils wrapped around my arms and legs. I felt them tear and dissolve and momentarily release their hold just to wrap around me again. They tore my clothes and left long gashes down my arms that seeped black blood.
Lights flashed and the world was grey now; her brown skirt grey and my hands the deathly pallor of the colorless and sightless masses outside and the logo and the candies back to a muted shade. Figures moved in my periphery, shadowy creatures of the fog, humanoid but diffusing as quickly as I could discern them into tentacles and reaching arms. There was color again; I could see the terror in her eyes and the agitated red luster of her cheeks as I clutched her blonde hair and pulled her back towards me desperately. The wisps of grey grasped furiously, hungering for something or someone. I saw them rip into her face, tearing at her eyes and ears as they took a hold of her arms and legs. Her blood was as black as mine.
Everything went dark. Blackness. Oppressive and ominously familiar but I faced it with renewed resolve. It was different than the Great Blinding when the shock was overwhelming and I had staggered into the street to see if anybody else's sight had been cruelly torn from them. Then, people had confirmed numbly. Indifferently. Something had compelled them to stumble their way to work and continue as if nothing was amiss. They had told me it was for the best. They had told me it was necessary. My blind quest for answers had predictably led me nowhere in spite of being fueled by anger and confusion. Search results were curated and censored and the answers were unsatisfactory and concocted, intended to assuage people's fear and keep them from prying any further. Eventually I just went about my quotidian routine, internally incensed but externally acquiescent and subservient. Like we were supposed to be. Like most everybody else was, robotically performing their expected duties like lifeless slaves to some invisible master.
This time would be different. I had seen again. I had seen what they had done to the world but I had also seen that there could still be color. I had connected with the Roseistance and I had connected with Carissa and I knew that there were people out there who could restore my sight. I had hope now, and I knew that something could be done, unlike when the Blinding occured and hope eventually gave way to helpless resignation.
My arms were free, released from the fog's fateful grip. I groped blindly, my hands settling on a motionless body. "Don't touch me, please," a voice said quietly. Meekly. It was the receptionist, as alive as me. I was surprised but relieved, grateful that pulling her into the fog in my place hadn't killed her but fully expecting her to be gone. She was, in a sense. At least to my eyes. The flat apathy of her voice was the same I had heard in coworkers and family members and strangers when the fog first rendered us blind and thereafter. Gone was her amusement as she cornered me and toyed with my desperation at the end of my impulsive exploration. Gone was the fascinated tremor of her voice as she ruthlessly sacrificed me to the fog. My fingers lingered on the steely cool of her leg for a moment before I moved them away.
"Sorry," I mumbled awkwardly. I was apologizing for touching her. I was apologizing for pulling her into the fog and allowing it to violate her how it had. If it was anything similar to what it had done to me, she deserved an apology. I was apologizing for being blind and unable to know quite where my hands would land again. I heard her sigh and stand and straighten her skirt.
"Security will be here shortly," she reported simply. I heard her pace back to her desk, the footsteps muted by the carpet. It felt rough under my hands. I tenderly rubbed my arm where the tendrils had gripped. There was no indication that anything had ever been there; not a scratch or a blemish I could feel. My clothes were intact and untorn. I punched the floor in rage. I hated being blind again. I hated that the fog had managed to wrest away from me that iota of a triumph and good fortune that regaining my vision had been. I hated that Carissa had lied to me, telling me that the fog would kill when I had heard and felt both of our bodies laying here after the fog had done its work. I hated that I would have to go crawling back to the walkway by the riverbank, groping blindly to find the right bench and then hope that that deceitful woman would pity me enough to have a Seer grant me back my sight. It was like a nightmare where I ran and ran but my feet didn't move and my inevitable demise just came closer and closer.
I barely cared that security would be there to escort me out of the building. I could manage, I was fairly certain, between the support of the Roseistance and... Well, that was it. Carissa was unlikely to think I had anything to offer now that I was no longer employed at the firm and I would be fortunate to convince her that I deserved to have my sight back.
"Can you see?" I asked the receptionist as I gathered my wits and stood shakily. I was convinced she could see before. Maybe I had been a little bit louder than intended as I snooped through the office and around her desk. But the way she came at me and did everything possible to avoid a glance at the terrifying fog preparing to attack convinced me she could see. She had just gone about hiding it in that stiff, robotic manner. Everybody who could see seemed to have their own way of hiding it, refined by practice but still an awkward mimicry of how the actual blind acted.
"No," she answered, her voice demure and resigned. So that was that. I resolved to convince Carissa to have a Seer restore my vision, be it with words or in some less savory manner. She had the Seers that the Roseistance couldn't find. She had planted this little seed in my mind. She hadn't asked me to come snooping through the top levels of the building but I couldn't help but blame her for confirming my suspicions and giving me a little trickle of information and half-truths. I was convinced she knew more than she was letting on.
"Are you okay? Your face... The fog... There was blood." My voice tapered off, reluctant to relive the carnage that the fog had ravaged upon her face.
"I'm fine," she answered resolutely. "I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice was more confident now. I didn't doubt that she had no recollection of what had happened. I had seen my own arms torn and punctured by the tendrils of the fog but now felt no pain and had no physical mark indicating that any damage had been done.
The elevator dinged and the attendant greeted the receptionist warmly, as if the fog hadn't just assaulted and maimed us both all over again. He must have traveled up with it, ignorant to its presence as it quietly lingered all around him. I wondered if it was still around us now, lurking hungrily or curling around my arms ready to seize me again in a moment's notice. He had other people with him now, I could tell by the bustle of footsteps and clothes rustling against clothes.
Hands confidently grabbed each of my arms, the grips much more tangible than the grip of the fog but still far less terrifying. There was comfort in what was known. The hands didn't grasp and reach like tendrils of fog or hands of blind people. I let them pull me towards the elevator and paused before stepping on. The guards acquiesced, allowing me a brief moment. Out of habit, I turned my head back towards the receptionist. I couldn't see her but I knew she was there by the sound of her fingers deftly typing away. "Doesn't it bother you?" I gestured with my head in spite of neither of us being able to see. "That they've taken away your sight?" One of the guards pulled at my arm again, beckoning me onwards. I had asked so many people the same question in the early days of the Great Blinding. I always got the same answer. It never seemed to bother them, at least not nearly as much as it bothered me.
"You'll get used to it," she finally responded ominously as I stepped on and I heard the doors begin to close. I had heard that answer a thousand times before. I never did quite get used to it and I could never quite comprehend how other people did.
The attendant rode down in silence. I wondered if he enjoyed the rides with company more than the ones without. Surely this ride in particular couldn't be enjoyable. Unless it was routine. The thought had crossed my mind that perhaps people like me - those who had unintentionally regained their sight - were gently encouraged to divulge their secret. That way it would seem natural once their sight was taken away again. As natural as a manipulative, blinding fog could be. Maybe the attendant enjoyed the countless indistinguishable voices carelessly discussing business and personal matters alike. Maybe he enjoyed the silence; the whir of the elevator mechanics gradually growing louder as the apparatus accelerated and the eventual ding to indicate that the trip was over. Maybe he enjoyed life this way, invisibly going about his routine indifferent to the ulterior motives of his passengers. It had to be easier to just press the buttons and ride up and down than to start asking questions and be escorted out of the building.
The grip on my arms loosened and the guards chatted idly between themselves as we skipped every floor on the way down. Finally, one of them let go of my arm. I waited a moment to ensure he wasn't just scratching or adjusting his grip then I blindly lifted it towards where I knew the button panel was, taking care not to betray my movements by stepping in that direction. My arm was pulled aggressively downwards again and the guard regained his grip. We fell into an uncomfortable silence, not willing to acknowledge the preemptive and inexplicable reaction to what they shouldn't have been able to see.
Thank you so much to everybody for the ideas, feedback, critiques etc. They were hugely helpful and I did my best to respond to all of them! The general consensus seemed to be that I had rushed headlong into the last section and had to slow things down. I've done my best at that here without making it too short or boring or without any insight as to our protagonist's situation. Thanks for sticking with me as this story continues to develop!
If you have not subscribed but would like to, you can comment the following to have the bot update you about future sections:
HelpMeButler <The Great Blinding>