13. She sat looking at the new comic wondering what about it had made that guy wig out like that.
They weren’t abstract geometrical patterns or optical illusions. The drawings he’d been looking at were of an apple and a hat. She wasn’t even sure what they meant as images of themselves. But that guy sure seemed to be tripping on something when he looked at them. She closed the comic book and rubbed her eyes. Dude was just a freak. No more than that. Why did she have to make everything be about something? Some things just were what they were. An apple was an apple. A hat was a hat. A cigar was a cigar. And that person in the gas station was just another crazy person. She told herself this but wasn’t entirely convinced.
In the morning, before work, she rode her moped over to the comic book store and looked around while the owner was helping some customers. She looked out the front window at the framework of scaffolding that girded the wall. Behind the scaffolding was a gaping hole that looked as if it was being repaired.
She walked back towards the store owner’s work station and he nodded at her in recognition.
"Looking for something new?"
"No," she said.
"How’d you like 216?"
"I still haven’t gotten through it all."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I took my time with it too. You can easily go right through a book like that but you won’t see anything."
"Speaking of seeing things, I had this weird experience with that book." She told him about the customer who she’d caught reaching over the counter and acting all weird holding the comic.
"And then he kept asking me where I got it over and over. Just wouldn’t stop."
"You didn’t tell him did you?"
She didn’t say anything.
"You told him you got it here? Wait, let me back up. Someone else read the book?"
"Only part of it. And it just slipped out. You weren’t there. This guy was insistent."
"You left it out where he could see it? Do you have any idea of the word ‘underground’?" He seemed pretty upset.
"Ok. I’m sorry. But I wouldn’t worry about it. He definitely wasn’t the kind of guy who’s a Company stooge. I mean, I don't think."
He was right. It had been a stupid move.
She wanted to change the subject.
"What’s going on across the street?"
He still looked angry but let himself be distracted.
"Construction. Or at least that’s what it’s supposed to be. I haven’t seen any workers and now there’s this huge hole in the wall." He shook his head.
They walked over to the window and looked out and saw the painter standing in front of the store, facing the wall. He looked like he was in a daze, completely out of it. They opened the door and went up to where he was standing staring off into the distance with a rapturous look on his face. He started to walk towards the scaffolding and almost hit his head on one of the pipes sticking out when the store owner reached out and grabbed him by the back of his coveralls. He kept moving his legs like walking in place and she went in front of him saying, "Hey" and snapping her fingers in front of his face.
He was still trying to walk forward into the scaffolding when she full-arm slapped him across the face.
His eyes cleared and he looked at her and blinked. He rubbed at the side of his face where she had slapped him.
"I just saw you," he said.
"Yeah and I just slapped you. Are you on drugs or something?" He looked around him, over both shoulders and towards the scaffolding, reaching out his hand and putting it on the cold metal. He looked at his hand and then back at the two of them.
"You weren’t there," he said pointing at the store owner.
"Let’s bring him inside."
"This is the guy I was telling you about," she told the store owner.
The book store owner rolled his eyes and groaned but didn’t say anytihng.
They got the painter to sit down and drink a glass of water despite his efforts to assure them that he felt fine. And, actually, looking at him, he did look fine. He didn’t look crazy or on drugs or anything. And she’d seen what both looked like. So what was his deal?
"I have to get back to work," he said.
"Not so fast," she said. "What was going on out there?"
The painter looked at her and then at the store owner.
"I don't know. The last thing I knew I was painting maybe a quarter mile down the wall. And then, well, I had a vision."
"A vision?"
He hesitated. They didn’t know how to reassure him, but they both felt instinctively that they could trust him. That he was telling the truth. Now to get him to trust them.
"Do you have the comic book on you?" the store owner asked her. She did. She got it out of her bag and they all stood around the work station to look at it.
"You had a vision while looking at this, didn’t you?"
"I don't know. Not quite. She interrupted me. But I may have started to have one."
"Do you think the drawings put you into some kind of trance?"
"I really have no idea. But it also happens when I’m painting."
They had the comic book open and were flipping the pages slowly.
"What page were you looking at?"
The painter held the comic and flipped through until he came to the pictures he’d seen the other day. He looked at it. The store owner looked between it and the painter. The girl looked at the comic, the painter, the store owner and then back at the comic. Nothing happened. He shrugged.
"Hold on," said the store owner and walked away towards the front door to lock it so no snooping customers would come disturb them.
She and the painter were standing opposite each other and he said, "I don't know. Maybe it was a fluke." He put the comic book down between them. She looked at the page which faced away from her and began to look at the pattern of the drawings.
There was a hill with trees and small wooden huts.
She heard a voice and turned around and saw the painter. He was maybe fifty feet away.
She opened her eyes and the painter and the store owner were around her and she was sitting down. She looked up at them and they looked at her with worried expressions.
She laughed and said, "It’s real. You’re not crazy."
"What happened?"
"I was somewhere else. For just a second I was in the woods and you were there," she said pointing to the painter. The store owner sat down.
"This is amazing. Do you know what this means?"
"No. What does it mean?"
"I don't know."
When they were in the gas station the day before, she had had to go to the bathroom and tucked the comic book under a stack of binders. When the painter came in and saw it, he had been looking at it upside down. When you read the comic like how any average person did, it revealed the tension-causing weird feelings of not knowing what was being expressed but feeling an at-odds-ness. But if you turned the comic book upside down, it sent the viewer into a trance.
Did it send anyone into a trance? Did it send everyone who went into a trance to the same wooded place? Did you have to be open to it somehow? How did it work? Was it an intentional function of the comic book designed by the artist or just a coincidence? They did not have any of the answers to those questions and they were unsure if they wanted to do much experimenting with something they knew so little about.
They weren’t abstract geometrical patterns or optical illusions. The drawings he’d been looking at were of an apple and a hat. She wasn’t even sure what they meant as images of themselves. But that guy sure seemed to be tripping on something when he looked at them. She closed the comic book and rubbed her eyes. Dude was just a freak. No more than that. Why did she have to make everything be about something? Some things just were what they were. An apple was an apple. A hat was a hat. A cigar was a cigar. And that person in the gas station was just another crazy person. She told herself this but wasn’t entirely convinced.
In the morning, before work, she rode her moped over to the comic book store and looked around while the owner was helping some customers. She looked out the front window at the framework of scaffolding that girded the wall. Behind the scaffolding was a gaping hole that looked as if it was being repaired.
She walked back towards the store owner’s work station and he nodded at her in recognition.
"Looking for something new?"
"No," she said.
"How’d you like 216?"
"I still haven’t gotten through it all."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I took my time with it too. You can easily go right through a book like that but you won’t see anything."
"Speaking of seeing things, I had this weird experience with that book." She told him about the customer who she’d caught reaching over the counter and acting all weird holding the comic.
"And then he kept asking me where I got it over and over. Just wouldn’t stop."
"You didn’t tell him did you?"
She didn’t say anything.
"You told him you got it here? Wait, let me back up. Someone else read the book?"
"Only part of it. And it just slipped out. You weren’t there. This guy was insistent."
"You left it out where he could see it? Do you have any idea of the word ‘underground’?" He seemed pretty upset.
"Ok. I’m sorry. But I wouldn’t worry about it. He definitely wasn’t the kind of guy who’s a Company stooge. I mean, I don't think."
He was right. It had been a stupid move.
She wanted to change the subject.
"What’s going on across the street?"
He still looked angry but let himself be distracted.
"Construction. Or at least that’s what it’s supposed to be. I haven’t seen any workers and now there’s this huge hole in the wall." He shook his head.
They walked over to the window and looked out and saw the painter standing in front of the store, facing the wall. He looked like he was in a daze, completely out of it. They opened the door and went up to where he was standing staring off into the distance with a rapturous look on his face. He started to walk towards the scaffolding and almost hit his head on one of the pipes sticking out when the store owner reached out and grabbed him by the back of his coveralls. He kept moving his legs like walking in place and she went in front of him saying, "Hey" and snapping her fingers in front of his face.
He was still trying to walk forward into the scaffolding when she full-arm slapped him across the face.
His eyes cleared and he looked at her and blinked. He rubbed at the side of his face where she had slapped him.
"I just saw you," he said.
"Yeah and I just slapped you. Are you on drugs or something?" He looked around him, over both shoulders and towards the scaffolding, reaching out his hand and putting it on the cold metal. He looked at his hand and then back at the two of them.
"You weren’t there," he said pointing at the store owner.
"Let’s bring him inside."
"This is the guy I was telling you about," she told the store owner.
The book store owner rolled his eyes and groaned but didn’t say anytihng.
They got the painter to sit down and drink a glass of water despite his efforts to assure them that he felt fine. And, actually, looking at him, he did look fine. He didn’t look crazy or on drugs or anything. And she’d seen what both looked like. So what was his deal?
"I have to get back to work," he said.
"Not so fast," she said. "What was going on out there?"
The painter looked at her and then at the store owner.
"I don't know. The last thing I knew I was painting maybe a quarter mile down the wall. And then, well, I had a vision."
"A vision?"
He hesitated. They didn’t know how to reassure him, but they both felt instinctively that they could trust him. That he was telling the truth. Now to get him to trust them.
"Do you have the comic book on you?" the store owner asked her. She did. She got it out of her bag and they all stood around the work station to look at it.
"You had a vision while looking at this, didn’t you?"
"I don't know. Not quite. She interrupted me. But I may have started to have one."
"Do you think the drawings put you into some kind of trance?"
"I really have no idea. But it also happens when I’m painting."
They had the comic book open and were flipping the pages slowly.
"What page were you looking at?"
The painter held the comic and flipped through until he came to the pictures he’d seen the other day. He looked at it. The store owner looked between it and the painter. The girl looked at the comic, the painter, the store owner and then back at the comic. Nothing happened. He shrugged.
"Hold on," said the store owner and walked away towards the front door to lock it so no snooping customers would come disturb them.
She and the painter were standing opposite each other and he said, "I don't know. Maybe it was a fluke." He put the comic book down between them. She looked at the page which faced away from her and began to look at the pattern of the drawings.
There was a hill with trees and small wooden huts.
She heard a voice and turned around and saw the painter. He was maybe fifty feet away.
She opened her eyes and the painter and the store owner were around her and she was sitting down. She looked up at them and they looked at her with worried expressions.
She laughed and said, "It’s real. You’re not crazy."
"What happened?"
"I was somewhere else. For just a second I was in the woods and you were there," she said pointing to the painter. The store owner sat down.
"This is amazing. Do you know what this means?"
"No. What does it mean?"
"I don't know."
When they were in the gas station the day before, she had had to go to the bathroom and tucked the comic book under a stack of binders. When the painter came in and saw it, he had been looking at it upside down. When you read the comic like how any average person did, it revealed the tension-causing weird feelings of not knowing what was being expressed but feeling an at-odds-ness. But if you turned the comic book upside down, it sent the viewer into a trance.
Did it send anyone into a trance? Did it send everyone who went into a trance to the same wooded place? Did you have to be open to it somehow? How did it work? Was it an intentional function of the comic book designed by the artist or just a coincidence? They did not have any of the answers to those questions and they were unsure if they wanted to do much experimenting with something they knew so little about.