Small
World
The television was on for perhaps the fourteenth hour. The signal faded
in and out, the local station having long since gone off the air, and a
station from a distant town tried to push through the static. A burst of
words, a burst of static, another burst of words...
"--one of a kind--"
"--if you order now--"
"--absolutely free--"
"--call today--"
"--how to--"
Alone and in the dark, Cynthia Wilson watched, numb to the broadcast. She
had spent the day there. It is Christmas Eve--technically now Christmas
day. This scene repeated itself year after year, repeated with the dead
familiarity of the Christmas specials she subjects herself to. She is here,
alone and depressed, because it's the holiday season again. The winding
up of another year. Another year filled with bad politics, the threat of
economic failure, and thousands more dead in the name of God. Yet another
year of trying to find any worthwhile accomplishments buried beneath the
drivel.
On the coffee table in front of her was the small, tightly-wrapped box
given to her by her sister Julia, the one who ran the novelty shop in the
city. The box wasn't under her tree because she hadn't bothered to set
up one this year. What few other presents she had were stacked on the kitchen
table, waiting for the morning. This one, however, she debated opening
early. Her sister always sent something unusual from her shop, and it was
normally the only highlight of Cynthia's Christmas. She knew that she wouldn't
sleep tonight anyway, so why not indulge herself with her one little stab
of joy early on? What difference would it make?
Cynthia ripped at the red and green paper and popped up the tucked-together
flaps of the boxtop. For a few moments she hesitated, afraid to find out
what lay inside, afraid that it would not live up to her expectations and
be a disappointment. Ocassionally, Cynthia was capable of short bursts
of courage, just enough to overcome her doubts. She shook away her
fear and reached in and pulled out a small colorful square: a globe, perhaps
two inches in diameter, set wihtin a three-inch cube of Lucite. She held
it up to the light of the TV, haloing it in a static snowstorm. She thought
it strange that the globe had no labels or border lines or colors to distinguish
countries--only a blend of forest greens and desert tans and snowy whites.
Oddest of all was the way the blue and silver clouds seemed to flow and
swirl as she turned the cube from side to side. It was almost as though
she held an actual tiny planet in her hand.
Her imagination momentarily entertained a silly thought that the cube held
an actual alien civilization. Perhaps the plastic casing was a protective
force field to contain its strange alien atmosphere during its long voyage
to our planet.
She peered closely at its land masses. No, there was Australia, and South
America, and unmistakable North America. It was just a miniature representation
of Earth, nothing more. Just another optical illusion plaything from her
sister's shop, to go into the corner of the desk with all of the past trinkets
she'd given. Unless...
Maybe it was a large-scale voo-doo doll! Whatever she did to this cube-Earth
happened big-time somewhere in the real world!
She tapped the plastic above North America. No earthquake struck, no rumble
of a thousand trains from the sky. It truly was only a toy for the eye.
Still, the shimmering blue oceans were awfully realistic...
Come next morning, the cube didn't go oto her desk. It stayed where she
left it, on the coffee table. For the next week, she paid little attention
to it. On New Year's Eve, Cynthia popped the cork on a bottle of Gionelli
Asti champagne. There was no one to share it with, and that was why she
put down the entire bottle that evening and drank herself into oblivion.
Sometime in the early hours of the morning, she awakened on the sofa. She
realized that it was another day, another year, and that she forgot to
take the sleeping pills at the end of the bottle.
She lay there on her side in the darkness and allowed herself to become
lost in the television's static fuzz. From down there the cube-globe was
backlit by static. The Lucite distorted and magnified the snow. And for
a moment there seemed to also be something else.
Cynthia propped herself on one arm and looked at the cube. Nothing appeared
different about it. She turned on the lamp and held the cube to the light.
Nothing unusual. Nothing unusual, that was, besides the photo-realistic
continents and the clouds and seas that appeared to move. Nothing which
wasn't already there. She began to set it back down and her hand froze
in mid-air. She swung the cube from side-to-side, in and out of the static
background, making sure of what she had seen. She got down on her knees
in front of the television and gently cradled the cube in both hands before
her eyes. Like and old TV's picture gradually warming up, the globe faded
from view and was replaced...
She saw herself walking down a city street, arm-in-arm with a man named
Brian. She and Brian had been sweethearts briefly in high school, but they
drifted apart after he left for college in the city and she chose to stay
in their hometown and work up some savings waitressing at the truckstop
on the edge of town. He had gotten a job and stayed in the city, but she
had remained in town. But here they were, together again, as though they
had never separated. The scene faded into them at a restaurant, where,
bathed in candlelight and surrounded by piped-in Italian music, he asked
her to marry him and she said yes...
Cynthia dropped the cube and burst into tears. Of course Brian had not
spoken to her in ten years. Not since the phone conversation in which he
told her that she had no ambition for not wanting to join him in the city.
He had no time, he said, for someone who didn't want to go anywhere, who
wanted to fall into the same rut her parents did and repeat all of their
mistakes.
She picked up the phone and dialed her sister, intending to ask what the
hell she meant by giving such a present. But her sister didn't pick up,
and Cynthia slammed down the receiver and went to the kitchen to find the
other bottle of Asti. It slipped her mind to try to phone Julia again,
and she eventually passed out. She did not wake until the phone call in
the morning informing her that her sister had been killed by a drunk driver
in the early hours. Her brother-in-law Mike was in the hospital, but expected
to recover.
The funeral three days later was the first time Cynthia could bring herself
to leave the house. Mike was still hospitalized and unable to attend his
wife's burial. After the service, she wanted to visit him, but decided
that the sight of tubes and monitors was too much to deal with right then,
so she called him instead. They exchanged the obligatory consolitory remarks
and some family-related small talk. Then she asked the question which was
the real reason for her call. What did he know about the globe that Julia
gave her? Mike didn't know anything about a globe, didn't know that Julia
had given her anything. But the last few weeks before Christmas were hectic--you
know how it gets--so he probably hadn't noticed. Cynthia thanked him, wished
him well, and hung up. She was on her own to discover the cube's secrets.
After some experimenting, Cynthia learned that the cube only worked whenever
held in front of television static. She didn't know if what it showed was
some kind of broadcast signal or something else. It could have been like
one of those cereal-box decoders where the card showed random colors or
dots until you held it behind a colored descrambler and it revealed a picture
or words. Maybe the cube was a descrambler for images hidden in the static.
However, the cube worked no matter which channel the TV was on as long
as there was static, so she ruled out the hidden-signal theory.
In Cynthia's Cubeworld, she and Brian had gotten married and were about
to have their first child. She knew that if it was a boy that they would
name it Tommy, and Molly if it was a girl. She had settled on those names
years earlier. In a way, Cubeworld made her sad, but at the same time it
made her happy to see what could have been. Realworld Cynthia was able
to live vicariously through Cubeworld Cynthia. Julia had, in what small
way she was able, given her the gift of a happy life.
Over the next few months, Cynthia looked into the cube less and less. She
was still lonely, still going nowhere, but hurt a little less to know that
she was doing OK in Cubeworld. In September, Cynthia lost her job at the
furniture factory and had to settle for a part-time secretarial position
at the elementary school. At around the same time, Cubeworld Cynthia was
promoted to manager at her accounting firm.
In March, Cynthia and Brian learned that their son Tommy would soon have
a brother or sister, just when Realworld Cynthia learned that she had ovarian
cancer and would have to have both of her ovaries removed. Realworld Cynthia
sometimes wondered why she led such a cursed life, but she never reached
for the bottle of sleeping pills in the upstairs medicine cabinet. Knowing
that they were there became a source of comfort in a way. She knew that
they were always an exit for her should she need it. But she didn't feel
the need to head for that exit because in Cubeworld she found hope. She
reasoned that some people might see Cubeworld as a taunting insult to their
entire lives. But in its staticy visions were fragments of hope, and dreams
of what she might have someday; just enough to keep her going from day
to day. She knew that at least in one world her life had not been a total
loss. She also felt that Cubeworld Cynthia's well-being was somehow dependant
on her own misery, which bolstered her with a small sense of purpose. So
she continued collecting and holding on to her slivers of hope.
--© 2000, W.A. Seaver
Written: 12/87 - 12/00
On: C-64 & Hermes 3000