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I’m looking into a globe in which I see explosions. They look like fireworks but it’s hard to identify them as such because I’m viewing them from above. Out of them emerge little charms that scatter away from the many midpoints. The shapes emanating from these tiny centers are being absorbed into one another and morphing into ever bigger shapes. On the fringes of the explosions emerge humanoid beings. They are nothing but rudimentary creatures with heads and some limbs.
These beings walk a few paces in the air. After a couple of steps they get tired and dive into the air in front of them. They end up floating on their stomachs.
I look away for a moment but when I look back they have wings. Not any sort of impressive wings that one would expect to see belonging to a bird or an angel, but simple extensions that are undoubtedly a natural part of these flying beings.
The half-bird half humans are flying off into a sunset. The soft yellow light illuminates them, demonstrating an especially striking view of their faces.
They continue to fly onwards. I don’t know how much time passes. The light fades into darkness; there are stars in the sky now. These are some of the brightest stars I’ve ever seen.
“Do you like what you see?” queries the Fortune-teller.
I look up from the iridescent object and am overcome with emotion.
“How….how…how did you do this?” I ask her.
“It’s a new technology that’s been developed as a collaboration by several major corporations. It works by tapping into your subconscious and rearranging the material stored there to create a set of lifelike imaginary visuals. It’s a means to create a sort of film out of your own experiences,” she responds. Although the Fortune-teller looks outwardly to be ancient, her voice sounds sharp and youthful.
“Can I purchase the one on the table outright?” I inquire.
“The one in front of me is meant for display purposes only, but I can get you a new one from the back if you would like,” she answers.
I’m set on buying, but I don’t want to make eye contact with its vendor because her long, stringy and greasy hair makes me uncomfortable.
“How much will that be?” I ask nervously.
“3000 credits,” she says without thinking.
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A few weeks later, the globe has transformed into a sort of dependence. What I see and experience in the globe is always colorful, novel and hyperrealistic. I wade through sandy deserts and sift through lucious jungles. I climb impossible mountains and sail across rugged seas. I meet many characters on my journeys. Some are humans while others are something else entirely.
One day the globe takes me to the mall. I find myself in a cavern created by many floors, the edges of which are interlaced on top of one another. The escalator that emanates from the middle of the cavern invites me to step on it.
On the second floor is a water fountain surrounded by tropical plants. If I had to guess where in the real world this would be, I would bet Dubai. It’s funny because I’ve never been to Dubai but this particular experience is probably made up from my impressions of what Dubai could be like.
In the corner of my eye I see commotion. A man has fallen onto his back. He is lying still. A crowd is surrounding him, but none are doing the right thing. They are all staring at him as if expecting him to jump back onto his own feet at any moment. I know what to do and rush over to the man. The others are in my way so I can’t fully reach him. I shout for them to let me through.
No-one can hear me. I can’t do anything. I sit on the uninvitingly clean floor of the mall as the crowd does nothing and the man at the root of their feet dies unnecessarily.
I tear my eyes away. Once again, the real world confronts me, abrasive and undeniable as ever. I want to call a friend. I need to tell someone about what just happened. I punch buttons to get to my most recents. With a start I notice that the last call I made was a month ago. I sit at the phone waiting anxiously for a response. With no answer I go back to the globe world.
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I’m riding the train home from work. I’m seated still, gazing quietly into the treasure positioned carefully in my lap. Today I’m being shown the “Italy” clip. I’m tricked into believing that I’m on a train passing a small mountain range that slopes down and feeds into a lake. On the banks of this lake bloom trees of pink, purple and blue. The tops of the trees are round like the ends of lollipops. Some of their long flowers hang down close to the ground.
I see something unexpected. I’m not quite sure whether what I see is in the real world or in the globe world. A tiger is running beside my train. It’s a huge one with powerful muscles that quiver with every propulsion with which it springs forwards. I’ve never seen a tiger before but this one looks much friendlier than I would’ve ever expected one to look: the face is framed with soft fur and bears no trace of huge toothy bones.
“Feed me your thoughts,” it says.
The message of the tiger wasn’t one it spoke aloud, but instead one that it transferred into my brain. I don’t know what to do.
Through some unknown mechanism I feel as though I’m able to release little bits of my thoughts that still linger at the periphery of my focus. I picture myself tossing these over to the tiger.
To my amazement, the tiger catches each one of these with the sharp ends of its teeth. The thoughts are wedged tightly onto its pointy molars. The beast keeps advancing at a rapid rate.
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Tonight I make dinner while watching the news. A certain headline draws my attention:
FAULTY MIND ALTERING CHRYSTAL BALLS ALL TO BE RECALLED. CURRENT USERS REQUIRED BY LAW TO VISIT THE HOSPITAL FOR A MEDICAL EXAM!
With my heart beating hard and my stomach in knots, I snatch my purse and run to the door. As I walk there are no thoughts in my brain. The birds chirp beautifully in the trees. Winding and gravelly, the path on which I walk is as I have always known it.
During the walk I become increasingly nervous. Beads of sweat roll down my face. I think I’m going to be sick. The world around me is patterned with creatures. Angels or devils or something unreligious? I’m not sure. They tease me by flying around in circles and pulling my hair. Some of them fly quickly ahead and lead the way. They continue to follow and make fun of me.
I enter the hospital and waltz across the floor to the reception.
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“Have you been seeing things? Or what I mean is: have some of the unrealistic happenings of the globe bled into your perception of the real world?” asks the professional. His brow is furrowed with worry.
“I saw a tiger today while on my way home from work. It was overlaid onto a video of Italy that I often see,” I answer.
“I understand. Has there been anything else unusual occurring recently?”
I contemplate telling him about the creatures that followed me here, but they seemed too real to have been made up by my mind.
“Not that I’ve noticed, although in the past few weeks I’ve been quite obsessed with the thing ….Maybe my brain hasn’t yet had the chance to display any more of these crazy visions,” I reply.
“As you might have guessed I will now order you to get rid of your globe. I understand that it has become quite a strong habit, if not an addiction of sorts. I’ve been instructed to inform you that there is counseling available if you feel it would be of use,” says the professional looking more worried than ever.
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At night I sleep on my side with my window open. The covers are blue and feel cool on my skin. When I close my eyes I can conjure up an idea of how I look at this moment. I do this instead of using my energy to contemplate the incidents of the day.
The fan erected at the foot of my bed amplifies the breeze blowing into my room, bringing in the slightest bit of dust from the street. I sneeze, open my eyes and rub my nose.
I’m now awake and the window is calling for me to come to it. I make my way there and see stars. They gleam high up above me, just as illustriously and magnificently as those I saw that first time I peeked into the globe.
I can’t help but focus on them. This clears my mind of all other thoughts. I wonder how it would feel to hold one of them in my palms.
“They’re just so far away,” I whisper.
As these contemplations flood my mind, the world starts to work with me.
One of the stars is sucked into my window. The lightness grows until I can see nothing else. I’m certain that the one approaching me is a particular one I spotted on the rim of the milky way. The only perceptible difference is that this ball of illumination has now shrunk to be tiny: it’s as though the pressure of the darkness has shrunk the star to make it perfectly sized for my palm.
I use my brain to manoeuvre the shrunken object the rest of the way to my windowsill. The star hovers tangibly between my palms. I’m more powerful than I have ever been, all thanks to my mind.
“Now I understand,” I mutter.
I let the star go by flinging it far from my chest like a basketball. I climb up onto the windowsill.
My nightie is silky and tickles my skin as the breeze moves it.
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I wake up surrounded by white light in a bed with white sheets. There is a nurse bustling around me – she looks concerned.
“How are you feeling honey?” she asks.
“I feel great. I’m quite sure that I’ve hit a breakthrough,” I reply, eyes wide with confusion.
“Rest up now,” she urges.
“Why do I need to rest?” I ask, annoyed.
“Because that crystal ball you’ve been staring into has made you go a bit…I would like to put it nicely but I’m not quite sure how…It’s made you go a bit cuckoo my darling,” she says, unsure of whether she should trust me or not.
I want to believe the nurse, but at the same time I feel completely sane. There must be some kind of mistake.
“I think you’ve got the wrong girl,” I say confidently.
“I regret to tell you this, but you jumped out of her window wearing only a nightie,” says the nurse.
“I don’t….I didn’t do that,” I say.
“Alright. Before you start to make a fuss, just answer this one question. Are you the owner of this piece of clothing?” she asks as she raises the top half of the blue nightie from some crevice underneath my bed.
I gasp involuntarily.
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“I’m sorry, it seems that you came to us too late. I couldn’t have predicted that this would happen. I’ve never seen anything like it,” muses the doctor. This doctor is a different one than the one that diagnosed me initially. I bet he is even more of a specialist than the first.
“For the time being the only safe option is to admit you to a private clinic where we can monitor you. As the side effects that come with the globe have been undocumented in the past, your stay at the clinic will be sponsored by scientists who want to learn more about your strange reaction,” he continues.
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The following evening I’m getting ready for bed at the clinic. I brush my teeth in the little bathroom attached to the bedroom. As I look into the mirror I notice that the image of myself staring back at me is starting to change. My flowing mane becomes greasy. My nose grows and hooks over itself, resulting in one that looks similar to the noses of witches in children’s books. Just like that, I’ve become the Fortune-teller.
I scream. My reflection is cackling.
A nurse arrives to console me. She puts me to bed.
I toss and turn all night. It’s difficult to sleep when you’ve become someone else entirely.
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WAST WRTNG 