- Story by Austin Vanderwilt, age 13
He could hardly sleep that night. It was the eve before his Viewing. The anticipation had kept him stewing all the late hours. He knew, to his small family, he would only be gone a day. But to him, he would be gone an entire lifetime.
Now it was here. Dressed in his most cozy clothes, he prepared to leave his family behind. "Bye honey," The young wife said to her husband. She cradled young Philip, the baby she left college to raise.
His eyes were watery. He couldn't imagine leaving Stella for so long. "I will always love you." Was all he could choke out.
She freed one of her hands and wrapped it around his head, gently stroking his shaggy hair. "We love you, too. We'll miss you."
A heavily padded man grabbed his arm, and pulled him farther and father away from his beloved. He could hear another officer whisper crudely to his wife: "I wouldn't say that. Viewing changes people."
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He had thought long and hard about who he wanted to View. He easily decided not to choose a famous person, like George Washington or J.K. Rowling. He didn't want to spend years observing a nobody, either.
Officially, Viewing was to learn about the way of life of old civilizations. But everybody used it to learn the dirty little details about a well-known persons life. Stella was almost glad that she dropped out before her Viewing. She always believed it was an invasion of privacy. Nobody should ever know that much about another person.
A recent visit to an Art Museum had solved his dilemma. A small time artist, a cult favorite with such a creative way about her, drew his attention. After some mulling, he decided he wanted to know everything she was.
He sat down in the cold chair. The officer lowered a large dome-shaped hat over his eyes. He flipped down the visor. Now his sight was blinded; he could only feel the needles being pushed through his flesh.
It was dark.
He slowly came back to his consciousness. But no longer was he sitting in a cold chair, in a frosty room, but in the corner of a hospital room. There was a woman in pain. But she loved the source of her terror. When the child was born, she wanted to do nothing but hold her.
And he watched her grow. Like a guardian angel, he saw her. He could hear every thought she pondered.
He became so familiar with her. When she went though low times, he cried. When she was bright in spirit, he cheered. He watched her metamorphosis- emotionally, physically, and mentally--from infant to child. From awkward teenager to young lady. From free-willed individual to elderly woman.
It was so apparent how everything around her left its mark on her. To him, it was more clear than his own life.
He felt closer to her than anybody else he ever knew. Nobody else would share all their thoughts, the good and the bad, with him. Nobody ever freely poured their emotion onto a platter for him to savor.
And, oh, how he wished! How he wished she could see him. He wished he wasn't just a ghost idly staring in. He wanted to be part of her life. He wanted to put his stamp on her.
When she died, his soul was crushed. He couldn't imagine going back, back to life without her. He couldn't make any noise. But inside, he sobbed.
The helmet lifted off. The bright light of the outside burned his eyes, and he used his hand as a visor.
He got up. He shook,stumbled, and fell. He wasn't used to his legs. When he reclaimed his stance, there was Stella. Petting gently on Philip, she looked so relieved to see him. He couldn't look her in the eye. "I love you," she whispered as he rejoined his family.
He was silent.
