But we both knew I wouldn’t go.
The next week, when he was at the mall, the apartment felt empty. Then I figured it out: I was lonely! And I hadn’t felt lonely since Jim had shown up! He had inspired me to be more open with Rachel, and to be friendlier with the other residents.
I needed that. I needed other people. I had never believed that before.
I felt bad about missing the mall trip, now. But I had a better idea. I left the apartment, found my way back down to the social area by the dining room, and listened to the conversations. Sure enough, The Admiral was there. I walked over slowly.
“Excuse me, Admiral?”
“Yes indeed, you have the Admiral. Jim, isn’t it?” Spry. Chipper. Are those derogatory words? I didn’t know, but they were the words that came to mind when I heard his voice. The guy must have been in his late seventies, but he had more energy than I ever did.
“That’s right,” I told him. “I was wondering if you had any more room in your book club. I’m interested in joining.”
“Well, that’s wonderful! We always have room for one more, and it will be great to get a younger man’s perspective on things. We meet once a month, right here, at eight in the evening. Do you have access to books?”
“Oh, sure. Talking books, Braille, all kinds of things. That’ll be no problem.”
We made arrangements, talked over details, and I left, feeling a little better. A good first step, I decided.
Jim came back late that afternoon while I was listening to the radio. He sat down opposite me, in his easy chair. “James,” he said in greeting.
“How was the mall?” I asked, wishing I’d gone.
There was a long pause, then he stirred. “I think there’s something you should see.”
I laughed without humor. “Interesting choice of words.”
“I’ve called a taxi,” Jim continued unflappably. “And I’m taking you back to the mall.”
I liked Jim, so I laughed again. “You are, are you?”
Jim answered, deadly serious. “Yes, I am.”
“Why?”
“You’ll find out.”
I guess it was my curiosity, something that had been dead for years, that got me into the cab with him, and we went to the mall. We both broke out our canes, and I followed Jim as he walked unerringly toward whatever it was he wanted me to “see.” As we made headway through the crowd that parted before us like the Red Sea, Jim began talking.
“Are you familiar with virtual reality?” he asked.
“Yeah. It’s the latest gee-whiz computer gadget,” I said. “So what? I don’t program games—I program business applications.”
“Well, we re here,” he said, although that wasn’t an answer. He nudged me. “Go ahead. I’ve already paid.”
I walked forward doubtfully, and someone put something in my hands. “This is a virtual reality helmet,” the person said, apparently some kind of clerk. “You gotta put it on your head.” I turned to Jim. “You brought me all the way here to play a virtual reality game? How well do you think I’m going to do?”
“Put it on,” Jim said. “It’s the latest hardware. It connects with your brain.”
“It does what?”
“It bypasses your optic nerve and sends the images straight to your brain,” Jim said. My jaw dropped and I stood frozen to the spot. He gave me a shove. “Go ahead,” he said. “Find out what it’s like to see.”
I stood rooted, gaping in amazement. “This… bypasses… the optic nerve? ‘Find out what it’s like to see?”
“Go ahead,” Jim said again.
I stumbled in the direction he was pushing me, trying to comprehend what was going on. “Find out what it’s like to see”! I’d wanted to see as long as I could remember! But I’d grown up and I knew—I knew!—that I never would. I’d almost accepted that fact! And here I was, about to see! This was unbelievable! What did I do? How should I prepare? What was going to happen?
The clerk was helping me get the helmet on my head. “Ready?” he asked.
“No—I—urn, I mean, I guess so,” I stammered.
There was a click as the kid threw a switch.
An enormous wave of input—they must have been images—slapped me in the face! They were right in front of me—they were all around me—they were on top of me! I cried out and tried to duck, but they stayed there, and I crouched in a defensive position while I stared at them. My mouth was hanging wide open, and I simply could not believe the enormity—the total tonnage!—of information being shoveled at me!
I looked around, and realized that I wasn’t in the mall. I slowly straightened, and stared.
“What is this—a field or something?” I asked.
“It’s one of our most popular programs,” the kid said from far away. “Virtual Meadow. Older people find it real relaxing.”
I ignored him, and began walking. “This is grass,” I thought to myself. I looked up. “That’s the Sun. Those are clouds.”
A tear trickled down my right cheek.
I looked over to my right. “Those big things. Probably trees.” Things I’d read about, things I’d heard about for years, were coming to life before me.
“Flowers.” I blinked rapidly against the stinging in my eyes.
Two animals, one smaller than the other with spots on its back, appeared among the trees. “Animals. Must be deer”
“Birds.” Tears were streaming down my face and I turned dizzily, around and around.
“I can see!”
I can see.
That was the sky, and that’s what they meant when they talked about blue sky. And the trees—that’s green. That’s what they meant. I always wondered.
I can see! I tried to say it out loud, but I realized that I was sobbing uncontrollably, and tears were streaming down my face, and I could hardly stand. I kept turning around and around, getting dizzier and dizzier, and suddenly I felt someone grab me, and a voice from far away penetrated my worshipful agony.
“James! Are you OK?” It was Jim’s voice, filled with concern and urgency, coming from somewhere over the hills. “Talk to me, James!”
“It’s so beautiful!” I sobbed. “It hurts so much! Help me, Jim, help me!”
I heard him shouting instructions, far away, and I heard a click, and then the image flickered and disappeared, and I was plunged into the soft, comfortable, horrible nothingness that I had known all my life.
Two sets of hands helped me sit down, and someone took the helmet off my head, and I leaned against a wall and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. After a long time I felt Jim’s hand on my shoulder, and I wondered how long he’d been there, and I heard him saying, “I’m sorry, James, I’m so sorry, I never guessed you’d react like that…” Over and over.
Illustration by Ron Chironna
Slowly, I pulled myself together and talked to Jim. “Wow,” I said, and sniffed.
“Yeah,” he said. “I found it pretty profound too, but I had no idea it would hit you so hard. I’m sorry, James.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said soggily. “That was the most memorable experience in my life.”
He tugged at my arm. “Come on, let’s get you home. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
I didn’t say a word as the cab drove us back to the apartment. He led me up to our rooms, and I collapsed in my chair, still overwhelmed by the experience.