Нил Шустерман: The Eyes Of Kid Midas

Brian grabbed the doorknob.

"Wait," said Kevin. "I've got an idea. The glasses are probably healed by now. I'll go get them and give them to you—and you can fix everything!"

"That's the whole point," said Brian. "I can't fix things."

"Yeah, you can," pleaded Kevin. "You can fix anything—I'll bet you don't even need those dumb old glasses to do it, either."

Brian just shook his head. "What are you, nuts? Who do you think I am?"

"I know who you are," said Kevin, in a solemn voice reserved for extremely important information.

"No," said Brian. "I think you're still seriously clueless. Take a good look, Shrimpoid." Then Brian knelt down to Kevin's level and looked into Kevin's eyes—eyes the same shade of blue as his own. This close, Kevin's blurry vision came into focus, and he could see everything about Brian's face that he had missed before; the slope of his nose and the shape of his eyes, and the tint of his dirty-blond curly hair. It was all so very familiar—so familiar that for the strangest moment, Kevin thought he was looking into a mirror.

Brian didn't have to tell him who he was, because now Kevin knew. He should have known from the very beginning—not because of the hair, or the eyes, or the tone of his voice, but because his visitor chose to call himself Brian, which was, after all, Kevin's middle name.

"But, how . . . ?"

"Beats me," said "Brian." "Maybe you asked to see your own future while those supercharged shades were still on your face. So, do you like what you see?"

Kevin smiled. "I like it a lot." Kevin was about to begin throwing out all the questions—what do I grow up to be? Where do I live? What happens to everyone else? But before he could say another word, a sound came wailing in from beyond the door. It was a very familiar drone, and now Kevin knew how Brian's journey was possible. The sound on the other side of the door was an alarm clock.

"Gotta go." Brian pulled open the door. "Can't sleep my life away!"

"But how do I get out of this?" asked Kevin.

"I can't remember."

As Brian crossed the threshold, Kevin peered in, but Brian stepped in his way, blocking his view.

"No peeking," he said.

"Right. See you later, Shrimpoid."

"Who are you calling Shrimpoid?" said Brian with a smile, and Kevin noticed for the first time that "Brian" was about six feet tall.

Brian closed the door, slicing off the sound of the alarm, and when the echo of the door had faded, the stillness of 9:42 returned once more.

Kevin, still weak and a little tipsy, hurried downstairs, out the back door, and up the hill. He hadn't seen much of the world beyond "Brian's" door, but the glimpse he did get was enough. He saw a life for himself! A world with a blue sky and trees and sunshine. There was a way out!

At the top of the hill, the glasses were nowhere to be seen.

Kevin carefully searched through the dirt beneath the twisted tower, in an ever-widening circle, with patience and determination. Finding a needle in a haystack was, after all, a simple enough thing if one took the time to do the job right.

Kevin found the glasses in the tall grass near one of the legs of the tower. Sure enough, the glasses had pulled themselves back into one piece, and although the lenses were still covered with hairline fractures, they were already beginning to disappear, one by one.

The glasses will always be here, thought Kevin. They would always be there, waiting—but they weren't necessarily waiting for him, were they? That was just in his own head. The glasses, after all, were just a machine. Kevin's putting the glasses on was no different than if he had gotten behind the wheel of a monster truck and headed downtown. If he ended up totaling every car in town, it wouldn't be the truck's fault—he had no business driving the thing to begin with.

With that in mind, Kevin slipped the shades into his pocket and decided to go looking for a truck driver.

Just a few miles north of town, Kevin hit the front of the storm, where stationary raindrops hung in the air like an impossibly dense fog, soaking him to the bone. As he walked along the highway, he noticed that things around him were changing. It wasn't just his eyes, he was certain of it. The buildings and trees around him were only shadows, and even the raindrops that hung in the air seemed less and less real.

It was as if now that the world had stopped, it was beginning to fade away like an old snapshot. Soon it would all disappear into gray nothingness.

Kevin trod the wet roads, resting only when he absolutely had to, on a trek that would have taken many days had clocks been counting time.

Kevin trudged through cities, then towns, then into wilderness, until he finally came face-to-face with the mountain.

The Divine Watch, robbed of its color, disappeared into the rain clouds. Kevin forged his way to the base of the mountain, resting for only a few moments before beginning the climb.

He made his way up and up until the clouds became a thick mist around him. Then they gave way to a sky the likes of which had never been seen before. Though it was already beginning to fade, the sky of Kevin's imagination was magnificent.

It looked like a painting in brilliant shades of blue, violet, and red. Spheres of planets loomed huge and imposing on the horizon, beneath triple suns that cast Kevin's shadow in three different directions. It was every bit as impressive as another world could be, but now that he had seen it once, Kevin didn't care to see it again. He would just as soon cram it all back into his own head and forget about it.

The earth below had disappeared beneath endless layers of clouds. All that remained were the sky and the mountain.

Kevin climbed hand over hand in a constant rhythm toward the heavens until, at last, his hand came to rest atop the Divine Watch. He pulled himself up to see the empty tabletop of smooth granite. Then he pulled the glasses from his pocket.

Yes, thought Kevin, they would always be here, never too far out of reach—but that was okay. He had the power to resist—he just needed to remember that.

Kevin opened the glasses and set them on the flat surface of the Divine Watch.

"Here," he said to the top of the mountain. "These look better on you."

Kevin waited and watched.

At first nothing happened, and he thought with a horrible sinking sensation that he had failed. Then Kevin noticed it; the three shadows of his hand began to move.

Up above, the suns converged into a single sun, and the planets slowly slipped off the horizon.

A breeze became a wind and the wind became a gale that whipped across Kevin's face, and as Kevin stared into the glasses, he saw, for the first time, what Josh had always seen. Beneath the swimming colors on the surface of the glasses was an eternity—an unknowable depth. Dimensions and universes— possibilities— so many of them that Kevin had to look away for fear that if he kept staring into the mind behind the glasses now, he would be dragged down into it and disappear.

Everything happened more quickly now. The clouds below him boiled. Night became day, day became night, over and over again, and Kevin's mind began to swirl, all his facts and fictions becoming one big blur as reality was once more re-imagined.

There was a moment—just an instant in time—when reality and dreams met each other before switching places. It was a moment of absolute insanity, when Kevin couldn't tell the difference between what existed and what did not and couldn't make sense of his broken thoughts. Where was he? What was going on? Then the moment passed, and when it did, the suns, the planets, and the rainstorm fell deep into the core of Kevin's mind, where they, once and forever, ceased to exist.