The Thing Least like Eternity

“The Future is, of all things, the thing least like eternity. It is the most completely temporal part of time—for the Past is frozen and no longer flows, and the Present is all lit up with eternal rays.”

— C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

✧ ✧ ✧

When Julian pulled his car into the lot at the law firm, his shirt was already damp with perspiration. The interior of the German-made sedan was dead silent, except for his heartbeat, which pounded in his ears. Yet he could see the traffic in his rearview, standing on the freeway, heating the day.

His masking glasses were in their holder on the dashboard. Round, horn-rimmed, with thick frames. Like all maskers, the lenses were a silvered mirror from the outside, but the wearer saw through them with only a small dimming of light.

He reached for them, then hesitated. He and his counselor, Alan, had been through this so many times, and still he abhorred the glasses. Everyone else, the entire world, wore them without complaint.

Inside his sedan was a haven. He’d chosen the upgraded model for the leather interior, but now its cloying scent was suffocating. And he paid a small fortune to have the windows and windshield tinted a deep, smoky gray, so he could take the maskers off inside. Paid for it with his first year’s bonus. Alan caught him in this. Wasn’t this just perpetuating his irrational fear and increasing the number of masker transitions in the day?

Julian could hear his voice playing over and over. “Put them on when you rise; take them off when your head hits the pillow.”

When Julian asked about showering, Alan wasn’t humored. “So, you think only your body needs to be washed?”

He lifted the maskers from the dash and traced his finger down the left temple, feeling its smoothness, its coolness. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small piece of royal blue felt, six inches square. The lenses were perfect, yet he cleaned them with the felt. He swirled clockwise, then counterclockwise.

Breathe. Breathe.

Pulse: 140. Not good.

A few more breaths. Eyes closed. Humming now, a tune his mother taught him.

Pulse: 100.

He folded the felt so that the embroidered inscription showed on top, To Julian. A gift from his father. After returning the felt back into his pocket, he checked his watch.

Time: 08:53.

His laptop lay on the seat beside him, challenging him. He had a meeting with one of the partners at 09:00, and later, lunch with Derek. A friend from his school days, Julian hadn’t seen him in years. They’d commiserate about those difficult times, something Julian wasn’t looking forward to, but Alan had been pushing for the reunion. Something about peeling an onion.

When he slid the maskers on, it was all the same. Still, the pinch of the maskers above his ears. Still, the lenses choked his vision in ways no one perceived but him.

Breathe.

✧ ✧ ✧

Alan: How was lunch with your friend?

Julian: Derek? He’s changed.

Alan: How so?

Julian: [clears throat] Well, for one, he’s married.

Alan: And how has that changed him?

Julian: He’s seen his wife’s eyes … her future.

Alan: And now he’s different?

Julian: He seemed heavier, more distracted, like everyday life wasn’t that important. He was never like that. [pause] I told him about Olivia, and he was happy, really happy, almost as if he knew something I didn’t, which he couldn’t.

Alan: You’re reading your own issues into his life. Contrary to the way you feel, not everyone’s looked into another’s eyes, and those who have don’t always change. Some do, but most don’t.

Julian: Yeah, well … [sighs] Let’s move on.

Alan: Okay. Was there ever a time when you were comfortable in your maskers?

Julian: [pause] No. But it’s gotten worse in the last decade.

Alan: You’re only twenty-seven.

Julian: Well, since I was a teen.

Alan: I may need to examine your eyes again.

Julian: Doesn’t seem right, showing you again. Our agreement was once. I’ve never shown anyone my eyes. This is a big deal to me.

Alan: As it should be. But your past shaped your future … and a look at your days to come might give us clues about how we got here.

Julian: Then you’ll tell me what you see?

Alan: Hm. You know I can’t.

Julian: … then I get to see yours.

Alan: Not possible. Counselor/client ethics and all.

Julian: I see.

✧ ✧ ✧

As they sat on the lawn, Olivia took his hand. She smiled. The day was glorious. Her maskers caught the sun in just the right way and threw off sparkles. With his other hand, Julian ran his fingers through the blades of grass. He was grateful he thought of this park.

“We’ve been together for a year now.” Start with the obvious, he thought. “We love each other, and I think we’re ready. I mean, shouldn’t we be ready?”

Olivia took her hand back. “It’s a big deal. A license, a contract, a life commitment …”

“Yup, that’s the way it works. But I’m sure.”

She looked down at the grass between them, but Julian wouldn’t allow her that.

He took her chin and raised her head so that they faced one another. “You’re not.”

Her face was emotionless. “What if we marry, we do all that, then I see something …”

“What could you see that would change anything? We’re forever.” He took her hand.

“Remember, I’ve been down this road,” she said. “I’ve got an ex who’s seen my eyes. We waited until after the commitment, and see what happened? This time I’m not waiting.”

“I’m sorry. You never told me what you saw, and you shouldn’t. But it must’ve been devastating.”

Her shoulders rose then fell with a long exhale. “Which is why you need to show me now … before the contract.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Julian: She wants me to take off my maskers … to show her.

Alan: There’s a reason for the process. But you know.

Julian: [overlapping] I told her it wouldn’t matter what I saw in her future. It wouldn’t change anything.

Alan: Good. But she doesn’t feel the same, does she?

Julian: She wants me to prove my commitment. Now.

Alan: The ceremony, the process. It’s all there for a reason.

Julian: I know, I know.

Alan: But she didn’t offer her eyes … and you’re supposed to show yours? You know the troubles that come when people show their eyes without a contract.

Julian: [pause] I know.

Alan: Another client ... it ruined her life because her lover told others all the details, then everyone knew what was coming for her. Except she didn’t know.

Julian: Excruciating … and sad. So, what did you see in my eyes?

✧ ✧ ✧

That night, in his apartment, Julian pulled down all the blinds and locked the door. He retreated to the bathroom where he stood staring in the mirror. He took off his maskers and the room brightened ever so. He ran his finger down the temple again, then looked back at the mirror. Of course, he’d seen his face before, and it looked as it always did.

His eyes appeared rounder than other eyes, more like those of a puppy or a fish. The most beautiful eyes he’d seen were oval, like almonds, and golden yellow. He imagined they were Olivia’s eyes. No, he knew they were her eyes. Beautiful, like her.

Alan wouldn’t tell him what he’d seen in his eyes. He couldn’t. All the laws prohibited it. From his earliest school days, he’d heard it: for good reason.

But Derek knew of ways, or so he said. Julian opened his phone. There. The number. And the name a simple moniker: Seer.

Julian dialed. It was costly. A month’s salary. He could come right over. No refunds. And the risk of someone using your future against you.

Within the hour, they sat across from one another in Julian’s apartment.

“What’s your motivation here? You want to learn about a woman? If you’re going to have a future together? Or a job?” The Seer was a man in his mid-thirties, ungroomed, unremarkable in every way.

“All that,” Julian said. “And I want to know before someone else sees.”

“Whatever. Send me the money and we’ll start. I have another appointment in an hour.”

Julian sent the money from his phone, his hand shaking. “Sorry, I’m a bit nervous.”

“They all are. It doesn’t inhibit the process.” The Seer is watching the screen on his phone and then nods.

“So you’re going to tell me everything? No editing.”

“Yes. And it doesn’t work the way you think. I typically see a single image from your future. I’ll share every detail of it. But for more in depth future-telling, it takes multiple sessions … to see more images.”

“I see. So, what do we do?”

“Remember, this is not legal,” the Seer said. “And not just for me, but for you, too. You narc on me, I narc on you, and believe me, you don’t want that kinda’ trouble.” He leaned in. “Oh, and your future can be made secure or changed through one decisive action by me ...”

“Is that a threat?”

“I gotta protect my own self. Nobody else will.” The Seer got up. “Stand.”

Julian stood and the man moved within six inches of his face. With deliberate slowness, he reached up and slipped off Julian’s maskers.

Julian felt naked, as on a stage, but the Seer didn’t flinch. In fact, his expression was flat, unchanged. His stare had weight, and Julian imagined he could feel it pressing on his face. The man’s mouth turned up at the corners, only slightly, but it happened, then the bland expression returned.

Julian’s heart was pounding and in a moment the suffocation would begin. A panic attack.

The man held up his finger. One more moment.

Finally, Julian covered his eyes and fell back onto the sofa, gasping for breath. He heard the maskers land on the cushion next to him, so he fumbled for them and put them on.

When he opened his eyes, the Seer was sitting across from him again, one arm draped over the back of the chair, his legs crossed at the knee.

Julian looked at his watch. Pulse: 156. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to know.”

“It’s okay. Some don’t. I wouldn’t want to know it either.”

“Hey. Forget what you saw.”

He smiled for the first time. “Can’t do that. I don’t ever forget a future. Think of it like insurance.” He stood. “Well, it’s been nice doing business. Don’t call me again.”

And he was gone.

A deep breath. Another.

Pulse: 138.

He grabbed the maskers off his face and threw them to the floor.

Breathe.

The Seer had suppressed a grin when he saw his future, but was it one of amusement, joy, or cruelty?

Once he found the maskers on the floor, he went back to the bathroom. The same eyes stared back. Brown, almost black. Dull.

His maskers. There was a fingerprint in the center of the left lens, probably from the Seer.

He took out the felt. To Julian.

Once he’d made the smudge disappear, he cleaned the other lens for good measure and slid them on. Definitely more handsome with the maskers. Definitely.

Pulse: 96.

✧ ✧ ✧

Alan: What have you and Olivia decided?

Julian: We haven’t. I mean, I haven’t. I think the ball’s in my court.

Alan: … have you ever shown your eyes before?

Julian: To you … and one other.

Alan: Has someone ever seen your eyes unintentionally … that is, without your permission?

Julian: I liked to read novels when I was in school. An escape I guess, with my mother’s illness and all that. I’d lie on my bed with the door closed and read.

Alan: Maskers off?

Julian: Yeah. But I’d lock my door so no one would come in.

Alan: But … ?

Julian: The lock was one of those cheap privacy locks so all you needed was a small screwdriver to open it.

Alan: And your dad came in.

Julian: … yes … But how did you know?

Alan: What did he do?

Julian: He didn’t do anything. He just stared at me with the strangest expression. I asked him what was up, and all he did was yell about never taking my maskers off. Only then did I realize and put them back on. He was so angry. [voice cracks] He left and slammed the door.

Alan: Did your dad ever mention what he saw?

Julian: Never.

Alan: But things changed after that.

Julian: [quieter] … things were different … between us … like he was always watching me … waiting to catch me at something.

Alan: Catch you? Doing what?

Julian: [louder] Not wearing my maskers … not taking care of them, not cleaning them. You know, in my dreams, no one wears them.

Alan: Why do you think that is?

Julian: I’m not sure.

Alan: Well, how does it make you feel … in your dreams?

Julian: [long pause] Known.

✧ ✧ ✧

When they reached the fifth hole, the slow foursome ahead of them had pushed forward, leaving Derek and Julian alone for the first time. Derek had asked for the round, and despite Julian’s poor game, he agreed.

Derek placed his ball and pulled one of his drivers out of his bag. “So, what’s up with you and Olivia?”

“I think she’s dodging my texts.”

Derek stopped and turned to him. “What happened?”

Julian was pulling a bit of grass free from his own driver, but paused. “Did your parents ever see your eyes?”

Derek chuckled. “Of course, all parents look in their kids’ eyes … at least once. Didn’t yours?”

“My dad did.”

“So?” Derek took the shot. The ball came straight off the tee but hooked to the left 200 yards out. Derek screwed up his face.

“My mom and dad … they didn’t believe in looking,” Julian said. “They said it ruined your life.”

“So why’d he look?”

“It was an accident.”

Derek stepped back from the tee. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.” He walked to the cart and put his driver back into his bag. “Your shot.”

✧ ✧ ✧

They were sitting at a sidewalk café, Olivia’s favorite. It’d taken Julian a week to get on her calendar, something that hadn’t happened before.

“So, I’ve been thinking about what you asked me,” Julian said, wiping his damp palms on his thighs. “I want to unmask for you.”

Olivia shook her head. “Don’t. Please don’t. The timing isn’t right. The contract would be expensive.”

“And?”

“And I don’t think I could live with knowing,” she said. “Whatever it is.”

Julian picked up the small spoon and began stirring the honey into his tea. “What if we didn’t?”

“Didn’t?”

“What if we never showed ourselves?” he asked. “We get married, the ceremony, the contract, all of that, but we don’t show our eyes. Would you marry me then?”

Her lips were parted but no words came out, so she turned her head toward the street. “I’m not sure that shows trust. You should trust the person you’re going to spend the rest of your life with.”

“You’re wrong. It takes even more trust.”

She turned her head back to face him. His reflection in her maskers stared back.

“Why are you so obsessed with settling all this?” she asked. “Things are good the way they are.”

“But you wanted to see my eyes. That’s what you said.”

Her face tightened. “Yes.”

“Then, just look.” Julian hesitated, then slowly reached up to his maskers, but her hand came up and grabbed his, stopping him.

“No!” she shouted.

“No, what? No, you don’t want me? Or are you afraid you won’t like what you see?” He sat back and folded his arms, his will sinking.

“Don’t play the lawyer with me. I’m not one of your witnesses.” She tossed the napkin from her lap on the table.

“I’m just finding it hard to track where you’re at on this.”

Olivia took a breath. “Okay. I’m done.” She put her phone in her purse and zipped it shut.

“Tell me. You owe me that. Why do you have to see my eyes before?”

“Because I won’t let you trap me,” she said. “To you, seeing is commitment. To me, it comes before.”

She glanced down at her purse, and when she looked up, she let out a stifled breath. “Why would I choose to suffer if I didn’t have to?”

Julian didn’t have a good answer. He didn’t want to see the future, to see suffering … or joy.

They sat in silence for another minute, then Olivia stood and left.

A smudge. He must have touched the lens when Olivia pulled his hand away.

Julian took out the felt and ran his hand over the lush fabric, feeling the embroidered inscription, rough against his fingertips. He tossed it lightly in his hand; it had some weight. Not much, but it wasn’t nothing. But he balled it up and dropped it into his near-empty teacup. The tea’s remnants soaked the felt to a black color, little by little. Rather than the aroma of the tea, the dank smell of the wet felt came to him.

He looked around at the other tables on the sidewalk; there was no one. Even the server had gone inside, so he slipped his maskers off and squinted into the day for the first time.

✧ ✧ ✧