summerscaptions: Michaela was pretty annoyed...

13 2 / 2017

Michaela was pretty annoyed about being here. Glasses? Seriously? That was going to ruin her whole look. She’d considered contacts, but the idea of putting something directly onto her own eyeball just… eughhh. Too creepy. So for a long time she just ignored the blurry vision, the difficulty reading, the headaches. Better than looking like a huge nerd, right?
But then she’d been pulled over for speeding. Turned out her license had expired. She hadn’t realized - who had time to pay attention to crap like that? When she went to renew it, she failed the eye exam. Miserably. One thing led to another, and she was left with a pile of fines, and the threat of losing her license unless she got corrective lenses.
So here she was, waiting in the optometrist’s exam room, annoyed and indignant. What was the big deal? So she had a hard time reading words at a distance. It’s not like she couldn’t see cars, they were friggin’ huge! So stupid.
The doctor came in, bustling about, setting right to work. He mumbled a greeting while his back was turned, shutting off the lights. He was an older guy, kind of disheveled and distracted. He flicked on a projector, the classic display of letters of decreasing size appearing on the far wall. “Okay,” he said, not looking up from his notepad, “tell me what you can see.”
Michaela huffed a little, unimpressed by the doctor’s completely disengaged and unprofessional attitude. “E,” she said, allowing her voice to express her frustration, “F, K, I, B. I can’t read the next line.”
The doctor looked up, glancing at the display. “Really?”
“Yes, really!” Michaela snapped.
He turned, glancing at her, seeming to notice her for the first time. “You know, I’m not really taking new patients at the moment,” he said, sounding like he was just realizing something. “Who was it that recommended you?”
“Some guy at the DMV,” Michaela answered, not bothering to keep the ice out of her voice. “I don’t know his name or anything.”
The doctor nodded, tossing his notepad aside. “I see, I see. Yes, that makes more sense. Well, miss… ah…”
Michaela rolled her eyes. “Rosen.”
“Miss Rosen, of course. Well, let’s try something different. Look here, please.” He guided her chin onto a support, tilting her head forwards so we was looking into some kind of gadget. The rubber scope she looked into wrapped all around her face, so she saw nothing but darkness. “Alright,” the doctor said, “in three, two… one.”
A series of quick flashes all but blinded her. Before she could react, there were two more. The last ones were somehow more intense than she expected. They made her feel like she was losing her balance, as though they’d messed with her inner ear somehow. Like they’d flashed right into her brain. She felt dizzy, disoriented.
The doctor pulled the gadget away, gesturing towards the wall. “Can you read the letters there, please?”
Michaela stared. The pinkish-yellow afterimages obscured her vision. The letters swam. “I, uh… I can’t really, uhm, see…” she said. Her words felt elusive, and speech was difficult. She felt sluggish, confused.
The doctor nodded, pressing a button. The dim light in the room changed, taking on a pinkish hue. “Focus, please, Miss Rosen. Read the letters for me, please?”
Michaela felt dizzy. Something was very wrong here, she knew that. But the doctor was acting as though everything was normal, and maybe if she just read the letters and got through this, everything would be fine. “I,” she said, some of them coming into focus. “A, M, A, B… I, M…” Her voice trailed off as the letters blurred.
The doctor adjusted something, the lights shifting again. “Very good,” he said, voice soft. “Please, continue if you can.”
Michaela watched the letters drift into focus. “B… O… D…” she said. Everything outside of the letters was getting dim, dark. It was like staring down a tunnel. It was hard to think. “U… M, B, D… um, I… T…”
Michaela couldn’t see the doctor in her periphery anymore. She felt the lights change more than she actually saw it. “Keep reading, Miss Rosen.”
Michaela couldn’t stop now. The letters were all she could focus on. They stood out, bold and sharp and clear. They filled her vision. “Z, C, A, N… T, T, um… H. I.” Michaela couldn’t… anything. Move. Think. React. There were letters in front of her, and she’d been told to read them, so she read them. That was the extent of her universe. “N… K… M, U, S… T, O… B, uh… E, Y.”
The letters stopped. Michaela felt like her head was lolling back and forth weakly. She couldn’t seem to form a coherent though. She just watched the letters, burning brightly before her.
“I don’t think you’re going to need glasses, Miss Rosen,” the doctor said. “Your eyesight needs work, but it’s not that important for what you’ll be doing from now on.” She nodded slowly, her mind dissolving into a thin mist.
“Now,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Read the letters again, please. From the top.”