It was as if now that the world had stopped, it was beginning to fade away like an old snapshot. Soon it would all disappear into gray nothingness.
Kevin trod the wet roads, resting only when he absolutely had to, on a trek that would have taken many days had clocks been counting time.
Kevin trudged through cities, then towns, then into wilderness, until he finally came face-to-face with the mountain.
The Divine Watch, robbed of its color, disappeared into the rain clouds. Kevin forged his way to the base of the mountain, resting for only a few moments before beginning the climb.
He made his way up and up until the clouds became a thick mist around him. Then they gave way to a sky the likes of which had never been seen before. Though it was already beginning to fade, the sky of Kevin's imagination was magnificent.
It looked like a painting in brilliant shades of blue, violet, and red. Spheres of planets loomed huge and imposing on the horizon, beneath triple suns that cast Kevin's shadow in three different directions. It was every bit as impressive as another world could be, but now that he had seen it once, Kevin didn't care to see it again. He would just as soon cram it all back into his own head and forget about it.
The earth below had disappeared beneath endless layers of clouds. All that remained were the sky and the mountain.
Kevin climbed hand over hand in a constant rhythm toward the heavens until, at last, his hand came to rest atop the Divine Watch. He pulled himself up to see the empty tabletop of smooth granite. Then he pulled the glasses from his pocket.
Yes, thought Kevin, they would always be here, never too far out of reach—but that was okay. He had the power to resist—he just needed to remember that.
Kevin opened the glasses and set them on the flat surface of the Divine Watch.
"Here," he said to the top of the mountain. "These look better on you."
Kevin waited and watched.
At first nothing happened, and he thought with a horrible sinking sensation that he had failed. Then Kevin noticed it; the three shadows of his hand began to move.
Up above, the suns converged into a single sun, and the planets slowly slipped off the horizon.
A breeze became a wind and the wind became a gale that whipped across Kevin's face, and as Kevin stared into the glasses, he saw, for the first time, what Josh had always seen. Beneath the swimming colors on the surface of the glasses was an eternity—an unknowable depth. Dimensions and universes—possibilities—so many of them that Kevin had to look away for fear that if he kept staring into the mind behind the glasses now, he would be dragged down into it and disappear.
Everything happened more quickly now. The clouds below him boiled. Night became day, day became night, over and over again, and Kevin's mind began to swirl, all his facts and fictions becoming one big blur as reality was once more re-imagined.
There was a moment—just an instant in time—when reality and dreams met each other before switching places. It was a moment of absolute insanity, when Kevin couldn't tell the difference between what existed and what did not and couldn't make sense of his broken thoughts. Where was he? What was going on? Then the moment passed, and when it did, the suns, the planets, and the rainstorm fell deep into the core of Kevin's mind, where they, once and forever, ceased to exist.
Kevin thrust his hand up through the wind, desperately trying to grasp something, as his mind took hold and he remembered where he was and what he was doing.
He was climbing a mountain.
With eyes wet and cold, Kevin reached out his right hand, and finally his fingertips touched the flat top of the Divine Watch.
"What's it like, Kevin?" Josh yelled over the wind.
"Do you see anything up there?" called Hal.
"Well, what's happening up there, Midas?" yelled Bertram. "We ain't got all day!"
There was something there! Kevin pulled himself up another inch until his head eclipsed the rising sun, and the object was trapped in his shadow.
"It's . . . it's a pair of glasses!" said Kevin.
As Kevin stretched out his arm toward the sunglasses, the wind screamed in his ears, and reality suddenly took hold.
What was he doing here? He could fall! He could die! What was he thinking! Panic screamed at him like a thousand voices in the wind, demanding he leave this dangerous place now and get back to the campsite this very instant.
He drew back his hand, leaving the glasses untouched and undisturbed.
"Let us get up there, Midas. Get out of the way!" demanded Bertram.
Kevin tried to make room for the others, but he moved too quickly and lost his balance.
Kevin fell onto Josh, who toppled onto Hal, who crashed into Bertram, and the foursome plunged down the rocky cliff, rolling over sharp rocks and over each other until they smashed against a hard plateau fifty feet below.
Everyone wound up with minor cuts and bruises except for Kevin. Kevin broke his leg.
17
AFTER THE FALL
"It'll be okay," said Bertram. "I'll go get help," Bertram turned to go, but before he did, he punched Hal in the arm. "This is your fault," he said.
Hal ran off to search for branches to help make a splint, and Josh sat beside Kevin, propping him up and helping him bear the pain.
The break was bad. Kevin had always imagined that if he broke his leg, he would die from the pain, but he didn't.
"Does it hurt real bad?" Josh asked Kevin.
"Real bad," answered Kevin. "But not real, real bad."
"Youll be fine, Kevin, don't worry," said Josh.
The sun was higher now, filling the valley with a warm glow. The light hit Kevin's face, and he relaxed just enough for the pain to drop a notch.
There was something gnawing at Kevin's mind—as if there was something he ought to remember, but it was slipping away. All that remained was a certainty that he would be okay—that Bertram would bring help, that his leg would heal, and that the world would go on. Even something as unpredictable as falling and breaking his leg did have a very predictable outcome—and that simple thought comforted his piercing pain. On its worst days, the world still made some sort of sense, and that was a good thing.
"Look, Josh," said Kevin, peering down at the spectacular view in the valley before them. "Way down there—I can see cars at that picture spot we stopped at. The people look like ants!"
"How can you see that?" asked Josh. "You're blind as a bat without your glasses."
Glasses? thought Kevin. Do I wear glasses? He was baffled for a moment, but the moment passed. "I have twenty-twenty vision—you know that, Josh," said Kevin. "I don't wear glasses."
"That's right," said Josh, scratching his head. "That's funny . . . I wonder why I thought you did...."
Beneath them, the morning unfolded on the valley in glowing shades of green and gold. A lazy smile stretched across Kevin's face.
"Kevin," asked Josh, beginning to worry, "you okay?"
"Never better," said Kevin, and he laughed, because he knew it was true.
Josh tried to hold back a smile but couldn't. "You're crazy, Kevin," said Josh. "Certifiable." But they both laughed long and loud until their voices rang out across the valley, echoing from here till doomsday.