Becca concentrated on her breathing, in through her nose, then a long controlled exhale. She hugged the wall as she speed-walked the hallway. Her sea foam green eyes were cast down, giving her a view of her once-white Chuck Taylors. She had thrown a shapeless dress over her slight frame that morning, pushing aside her disappointment as she faced her reflection in the mirror. She would never fit in with her sharp features, her shapeless figure, and her awkward mannerisms. Her only hope was to pass through her teen-age years as a ghost, invisible to peers. It was better to be ignored than ridiculed.

She made it to her 5th period class and slid into a chair. She ran a hand over her head, trying to smooth her dark, frizzy hair. Bobby rushed in as the bell rang, jostling Becca’s desk as he slid down the aisle.

“Way to go Bobby. You made it!” Of course, Mr. Simms would frame Bobby’s near miss as a success. From Becca’s perspective, it seemed the cool crowd could do no wrong. Any faults were forgiven, overlooked. What she wouldn’t give for that kind of absolution. Bobby waved off Mr. Simms’s comment. As if he needed a teacher’s approval.

Mr. Simms began the day’s lesson and Becca fought to concentrate on his voice. She felt her classmates eyes on her, heard the whispers. She forced her face into a neutral expression, hiding her emotions. She prepared herself for an hour of boredom, was surprised when she heard Mr Simms say, “Today, class, I’m going to give you a very different sort of assignment.”

“I’ve decided to mix things up a bit,” said Mr Simms. “I know you guys are bored. Hell, even I’m bored. So…. Today we’re going to have an impromptu variety show!”

The students all sat up straighter, looks of horror on their faces. Becca felt bile in her throat.

“I know you haven’t time to prepare, but you’re all good at something. Entertain me!” Mr Simms exclaimed.

What followed was an hour-long ham session. Becca was not surprised to see her classmates confidently recite poems, perform dances, dribble basketballs, deliver makeup tutorials. They came from happy homes. Their feelings were validated. They wouldn’t understand her life, her father long gone and her mother an exhausted shell.

She sat quietly, tried to hide her disappointment in Mr Simms. This seemed like a betrayal of sorts, the easy way out. He indulged his students desire to be seen and admired and bought himself a day off. The only thing she would take from her time in high school was knowledge. She was a good student and she would be a successful, productive adult. It was her only way out of an untenable situation.

As the minutes diminished from sixty to forty to twenty, as student after student demonstrated their talents, Becca calmed. There would not be time for everyone to perform. Becca felt vindicated. After all, she was good at being invisible.

The young man carefully negotiated the aisle and stepped off the bus. He regarded the graffiti on the concrete buildings lining the street, neon colors and soft, bubble letters, ghetto murals he admired every evening as he walked home. He adjusted the glasses that framed his hazel eyes, making sure they sat securely over the mask covering his nose and mouth. The sky was aglow, broad pink and orange brush strokes coloring the last, best rays the sun could offer. Clint stood motionless and took in the scene, committing it all to memory. He wasn’t alone. Many people repeated this evening ritual, all eyes drinking in the view, everyone that still could, anyway.

Clint trudged uphill as the light dimmed, rushing now to beat the sunset. Even with his glasses, his night vision was poor and he risked losing his way, despite having walked these streets for years. Clint valued his sight, knew it was a finite gift, was resolved to it’s loss. He had read about a time when human eyes were heartier, lasting most of one’s life. Yes, sight had declined with age, but it was still there at the end. His great-grandfather had enjoyed a lifetime of sight, but that was before the SDV epidemic, short for Sternumentum Damnum Visum (the medical community couldn’t resist mucking things up with a little Latin).

Researchers had noted a startling rise in the incidence of blindness. As more and more of the population succumbed to darkness, scientists had studied the data, interviewing patients and their doctors with growing desperation. When the cause was discovered, it was initially dismissed as preposterous. News reports were delivered with jokes, scientists were ridiculed for their efforts. The culprit responsible for stealing human sight was… a sneeze?? Well, not just one. It was different for each victim. For some, each sneeze was catastrophic, with total loss of sight after just a handful of sneezes. For others, it took a bad upper respiratory virus or seasonal allergy attack.

All agreed that the best course of action was to protect one’s airway. Air filtration systems became essential for every household. Masks were worn inside and out. Certain professions had absorbed disproportionate losses; farmers, cleaners, landscapers, barbers & hair stylists. Working fields or caring for livestock were sure ways to quick blindness. Modern food was concocted in laboratories or farmed by robots in warehouses equipped with ventilation hoods. Over the years, human cleaners had been replaced with automation. Gone were the days when homes were filled with tchotchkes. The accumulation of things just created more surface area on which dust could collect.

Sight was now an EXPERIENCE, something to be grabbed by the fistful. Across the globe, communities had developed disparate strategies to expose little eyes to a lifetime of sights. One fed their infants a steady stream of media, another favored exposure to natural beauty. Clint had dutifully visited every art gallery in his community. He had studied faces. He had travelled and filled his mind with pictures that he would recall in his sightless future.

Despite global efforts, many things were lost to the epidemic. Clint had never driven a car. Automated trains and buses got people where they needed to go. Because the majority of the population lost their sight before they reached adulthood, there was no longer an audience for social media posts, no incentive for “keeping up with The Joneses,” no need for makeup, manicures, hair extensions. Most people kept theirs heads shaved.

At last, Clint reached his apartment building. His hands shook as he pulled his key card from his pocket and waved it over the panel. The interior was brightly lit and Clint strode the length of the hallway without incident. He paused at his door and listened intently. He heard no voices and could not discern any bodies in the hallway with him. Convinced of his solitude, he took a deep breath and pushed open the door. He quickly closed it behind him and braced himself for what was about to come. He registered a brief flash of white before a soft, but solid ball of fur crashed into him. He embraced his cat, remove his mask, buried his face in its fur and…. ACHOO!! The world faded to black.

At 5:24am, Beth’s phone rang. She had completed three consecutive 12 hour shifts at the hospital the night before. She had done her best to refuel and hydrate before bed. As usual, she had not had time to take her breaks and had only managed to escape the floor for 15 minutes to inhale a yogurt and banana around 3pm. As she struggled to clear her head, she heard a young woman on the line, clearly upset.

“I’m sorry”, said Beth. “Who is this?”

“It’s Connie”, said the young woman. “Have you heard from Ray?”

Of course Beth hasn’t recognized the caller. Although her brother Ray had married Connie 15 years ago, Beth and Connie had never been close. Ray was five years younger than Beth and had married in his thirties. Beth had been busy with two young children and had been on the opposite coast from her brother and his new wife.

“I haven’t talked to Ray in weeks,” said Beth, “not since we got together on Coronado. What’s going on Connie?”

Connie explained that Ray had not returned home from work the previous evening. She had tried calling his work phone and cell, but Ray hadn’t answered. Ray, who thrived on routine, who never failed to fulfill his obligations.

“Beth, Ray told me he’s been seeing a man outside his office all week. Very strange. The man just reads and looks at his phone, but Ray said, “I’m probably being dramatic, but it feels like he’s keeping an eye on me.”

Long hallways devoid of color turn and twist, maze-like. Framed pictures line the walls, but they offer nothing to brighten the space. Generic collections of people, appropriately diverse, smile vacantly at visitors. An effort has been made to incorporate natural light, but very little succeeds at gaining entry. There is no music, but occasional warnings and messages sound overhead. Staff rush past avoiding eye contact. When pressed, they offer tired smiles. They present as deflated balloons, once joyfully buoyant but now withered and earthbound. There is much hustle and bustle, an aggressive sense of boxes checked. Yet, there is a lack of satisfaction. Imagine a prize hen laying dozens of eggs, but all of them hollow.

And so, it had come to this. All the plans, the fruitless attempts to communicate, to educate; it had all ended in violence. Hardly unexpected, but disappointing nonetheless.

When Arak had first heard the reports about the bipedal beings, she had been cautiously optimistic. These beings were soft, vulnerable, thus necessitating bulky suits and weapons. She believed they would be reasonable, open to negotiation. What choice did they have when they were so obviously weak.

Arak knew little of their home land but her historians had shared that these beings were fleeing a ruined planet. Their population had withered under an onslaught of natural disasters, plague, and war. Arak sympathized. Her brothers and sisters had experienced similar trials over the long centuries of their existence. How much they had suffered, how long they had endured before humility finally, mercifully allowed them to learn from their mistakes.

However, her sympathy would not deter her from protecting her planet and her people.