Blind

by Kory M. Shrum

  “He’s bleeding,” Locke said, in a small voice.

  “He’ll be fine,” Dr. Barnard insisted. And the tender touch of his care caused a warm stirring in Edison’s mind. The darkness formed by his wrapped sockets gave itself over to something else entirely. Like canvas, the darkness seemed to stretch and warm. The shade seemed to lighten somehow until he realized what he looked at now was no longer black at all but rather a different tone. A color.

  He gasped, pressing himself further into the mattress as if to put distance between himself and the growing color which no longer stood alone. Each shade and variance grew, became distinct.

  “Edison?” Dr. Barnard asked. “Is everything all right?”

  “Is it the chip?” Locke asked. “Maybe the chip is doing something.”

  “No,” Dr. Barnard said. “I didn’t insert the cerebral implant. Once I saw that we would have problems with the eyes, I didn’t proceed any further. And his old chip was removed along with his Mathematical eyes. There’s nothing to cause a reaction. It must be the pain.”

  It’s not the pain, Edison thought. Something in him was opening, flowering, once coiled, unfolding before him.

  He saw his mother standing alone in a field of tall pale grass and sunlight. Her earthy green dress swirled up, wind-caught, to reveal her legs and bare feet as the grass parted between gusts of air. Her long dark hair curling over her back and shoulders, too, was caught in the wind. So much wind, that as she called for him, her voice was drowned in the rush of it. He watched her from the tree line, not yet ready to join her despite the unfathomable beauty of this world.

  Her eyes were not mechanical anymore. They held every color now—green and brown—flecks of yellow and blue. It was his mother’s dream—her alone in a field beneath the largest tree he’d ever seen, calling for him—knowing he was near but not yet seeing him. The little boy-fox.

  “Son?” his father asked, touching the boy’s shoulder lightly. “What can I do for you? What can I do? Edison—”

  “Eden,” he told him. “It’s Eden.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Kory M. Shrum lives in Michigan with her partner Kim and a ferocious guard pug, Josephine. She’d love to hear from you on Facebook, Twitter, or her website.

  To be the first to hear of her new and forthcoming work, please sign up for her mailing list. And please support her by reviewing her work, wherever possible.