They drove south. The top of the Caprice had been let down, and the wind rushed through their hair and loose sleeves, chilling them, reminding them that the night was still a cold, dark thing. They were headed to the desert.
John could never wrangle an exact destination from Evan and began to wonder if his surrogate brother even knew. Evan, as far as the boy could tell, was following the stars. And the boy was watching them. He leaned his head back against the cushioned rest and stared up at the clear sky above. As they drove further away from the city, the night intensified, growing darker as the stars shone brighter.
The pain pills were working. He could feel himself letting go of the waking world, slipping off to another place altogether. It was a place full of light and madness, and he hung tightly to the edge, barely skirting the border. He could see things--wonderful things. It was a million blue sparks that had once seemed so menacing. Now they were welcoming, dancing. There was no longer any need to be afraid of them, but neither could he embrace them. It was still an alien world, and one that gradually shifted back to a sort of reality, where electric blue sparks froze in the sky, flickering like specks of neon before settling into the static pattern of the stars overhead.
"So what are they?" John asked, rousing himself.
"What are what?"
"The things that we see, what are they?"
"Yeah, I guess that's why you were trying to track me down in the first place, right? I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but I don't have the slightest clue. You know as much as I do. But I think the important thing isn't necessarily understanding them; it's coping with them. We do what we can to get by, to not be driven mad, so you write. You write to take a stand, to not be swallowed whole by forces you don't understand."
"And you sculpt them in plastic. Is that how you deal with them? Does it keep you from being afraid?"
"Something like that. We've all got our demons. Always remember that."
"I will." The boy tugged at his bandage. He could feel the heat of his wound--warm, but not burning.
"Have you seen anything lately?"
"Not since I woke up in the hospital, no."
"It'll come back, and when it does, you'll be ready for it."
"I kind of miss it, in a strange way. I miss seeing things only I could see, you know? I thought they were aliens at first, but then I noticed that they took the place of people--people on the street, people at school, everybody."
"We're all aliens, is that it?"
"Sounds like a perfect example of teenage philosophy, doesn't it?"
Evan shrugged.
"Anyway, then I started thinking. What if I was seeing, like, a representation of the person? What if I was seeing the thing below the surface?"
"Seeing in metaphors."
"Exactly."
"That sounds reasonable."
"But there's more to them. They aren't just flesh and blood, are they? They're machines, at least partly."
"Yeah, I suppose so."
"Don't tell me you've never thought about this stuff before," said John, slapping his hand against the top of the passenger door.
Evan shook his head. "Not really. I just sculpt the things as I see them and try to appreciate them, I guess. Not everything needs an explanation, John. That's the whole basis of faith."
"This is faith?"
"How could it be anything else?"
John couldn't think of an adequate response. He settled back into his stargazing position and felt the wind brush across his face, tussling his hair and giving him the brief sensation of flying. As long as the pills were working, he could believe it if he closed his eyes long enough.
"Do you still see them?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"When you look at me, what do you see?"
Evan briefly took his eyes off the road, only long enough to look straight into John's. "Do you really want to know?" he asked.
"Absolutely."
"Thin, black, with a million stars shining in every direction."
John said nothing else. A grin was fixed on his face. That was the answer he had been hoping for, for some reason that defied all reasonable thought. He escaped back into the stars, back to the world where they flickered to life in sharp, blue light that vibrated in place and multiplied, forming a widening landscape that was not solely above him, but in every direction at once. The sparks covered his body, and all was right in the universe.
John could never wrangle an exact destination from Evan and began to wonder if his surrogate brother even knew. Evan, as far as the boy could tell, was following the stars. And the boy was watching them. He leaned his head back against the cushioned rest and stared up at the clear sky above. As they drove further away from the city, the night intensified, growing darker as the stars shone brighter.
The pain pills were working. He could feel himself letting go of the waking world, slipping off to another place altogether. It was a place full of light and madness, and he hung tightly to the edge, barely skirting the border. He could see things--wonderful things. It was a million blue sparks that had once seemed so menacing. Now they were welcoming, dancing. There was no longer any need to be afraid of them, but neither could he embrace them. It was still an alien world, and one that gradually shifted back to a sort of reality, where electric blue sparks froze in the sky, flickering like specks of neon before settling into the static pattern of the stars overhead.
"So what are they?" John asked, rousing himself.
"What are what?"
"The things that we see, what are they?"
"Yeah, I guess that's why you were trying to track me down in the first place, right? I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but I don't have the slightest clue. You know as much as I do. But I think the important thing isn't necessarily understanding them; it's coping with them. We do what we can to get by, to not be driven mad, so you write. You write to take a stand, to not be swallowed whole by forces you don't understand."
"And you sculpt them in plastic. Is that how you deal with them? Does it keep you from being afraid?"
"Something like that. We've all got our demons. Always remember that."
"I will." The boy tugged at his bandage. He could feel the heat of his wound--warm, but not burning.
"Have you seen anything lately?"
"Not since I woke up in the hospital, no."
"It'll come back, and when it does, you'll be ready for it."
"I kind of miss it, in a strange way. I miss seeing things only I could see, you know? I thought they were aliens at first, but then I noticed that they took the place of people--people on the street, people at school, everybody."
"We're all aliens, is that it?"
"Sounds like a perfect example of teenage philosophy, doesn't it?"
Evan shrugged.
"Anyway, then I started thinking. What if I was seeing, like, a representation of the person? What if I was seeing the thing below the surface?"
"Seeing in metaphors."
"Exactly."
"That sounds reasonable."
"But there's more to them. They aren't just flesh and blood, are they? They're machines, at least partly."
"Yeah, I suppose so."
"Don't tell me you've never thought about this stuff before," said John, slapping his hand against the top of the passenger door.
Evan shook his head. "Not really. I just sculpt the things as I see them and try to appreciate them, I guess. Not everything needs an explanation, John. That's the whole basis of faith."
"This is faith?"
"How could it be anything else?"
John couldn't think of an adequate response. He settled back into his stargazing position and felt the wind brush across his face, tussling his hair and giving him the brief sensation of flying. As long as the pills were working, he could believe it if he closed his eyes long enough.
"Do you still see them?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"When you look at me, what do you see?"
Evan briefly took his eyes off the road, only long enough to look straight into John's. "Do you really want to know?" he asked.
"Absolutely."
"Thin, black, with a million stars shining in every direction."
John said nothing else. A grin was fixed on his face. That was the answer he had been hoping for, for some reason that defied all reasonable thought. He escaped back into the stars, back to the world where they flickered to life in sharp, blue light that vibrated in place and multiplied, forming a widening landscape that was not solely above him, but in every direction at once. The sparks covered his body, and all was right in the universe.
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