Walking out of the library was a very different experience than entering it.  Where I was full of awe in the beginning at the grandiosity of it all, I now felt anxiety at just about every turn. I clung to Angel’s arm as he followed Misty out of the VR room and past the cozy living room.  I think I almost tripped over a bucket that had fallen in the fake utility closet.  The dimly lit movie theater hallways were no better as I couldn’t make out any distinct shapes around me.  As the spaces grew darker, the more blurry everything seemed. Once we were back in the theater lobby, Misty and the ticket boy wished us luck. “Please come back anytime! The Theater is always open for you!” 

“Of course, Misty.  Send me updates on any great films that are showing here!”  

Fortunately, once we were outside of the theater, outside light poured in generously and I could see so much more.  “Whoo!” I exhaled. “Everything looks like an impressionist painting once again!” I still held on tightly to Angel’s elbow as we walked toward the elevator.  

“I assume you wanted to take the elevator back? Right? Not the stairs?” he asked. 

“Angel, how did you know? Wouldn’t that make some interesting headlines? ‘Blind President Tumbles Down 10 Flights of Stairs…‘” I chuckled. Angel laughed too. “Yeah…it would definitely make for some funny playbacks for sure. But let’s not make headlines today. I’m sure there are plenty of headlines that you’ll make over the next few days.  Just not today.” He patted my hand as we stepped into the elevator. “Just…let me be your eyes for the next hour or two until we get you fitted with some new glasses, alright? I have more than enough for the both of us.” 

I’m sure I made a weird face at that statement, but then remembered that his neck and…his hands too?… were covered with eye tattoos. “Ah! Real funny! Because of the eye tattoos! Got it!” The doors of the elevator opened announcing that we were back in the lobby.  

“Angel? Speaking of your eye tattoos…” I started as we walked back outside of the library facing the memorial park.  “…you’ve got a lot of eyes on your neck and hands. Do you only have eye tats?” 

“Great question. One second. Stand right there.” He left my side, and through major squinting, I could make out that he whispered something to one of the secret service agents standing by the column next to the door. He jogged back, “Okay! Just had to ask them to bring the car around and take us to the eye doctor’s. Anyway, right! My tattoos.  I mostly have eyes.  I also like wings. So I have two large wings on my back and two smaller ones on my calves. Oh and I have head tattoos of the faces of some animals…” He lifted his loose black hair on top of his head. “See?” I waved my hands in front of my eyes to motion that I can’t see them.  He laughed awkwardly, “Oh, right? Yeah. You need glasses.  But yeah, the rest is all eyes. My Artist was real thoughtful too to make them all black line so they look awesome.” 

“When you say, they’re mostly all eyes…” 

“From the neck down. Just about any space I have is dedicated to very detailed eyes.” 

“Geez…” I smiled. I could hear a car park in front of us. It was black, but that was the extent of what I could tell. “That must look incredible,” I said as we climbed in. “You ever feel like your tats have more purpose than just being artwork?” 

I could hear Angel click his seatbelt on.  The car pulled off. There was a smile in his voice, “They do have a lot of meaning behind them. That’s for sure.” 

“Right. But for me, I feel like mine anchor me to the ground… ya know? Keep me from fully losing my head…” 

“Oh like you were just asking me to do a few dreams ago? Completely cut off your head?” he joked. I blushed. “I mean…yeah… but honestly, you reminded me of the tattoo on my left arm and something kind of happened… I don’t know. But it was like… I remembered why I’m on Earth. Ya know?” 

He smiled and flicked my forehead. “Silly you… but yes. Sometimes we need a reminder as clear as day on why we exist. My eyes do that for me. Every moment of the day.” He paused as if in deep thought. 

He continued: “Without purpose… without these little reminders… what’s the point of living? And what’s the point of dying? From my perspective, the living get several moments to try to live, but only one chance at death. You wanna make sure it counts, right? Like you wanna have meaning to it all. 

“For many people, tattoos are just one way for them to process why their existence is meaningful.  Others who choose not to have tattoos sometimes put that reminder into something else… The Romans were notorious for putting this thought into their architecture. The Greeks into their education and literature. Medieval Christians and Muslims poured their souls into their religious centers as well.  African and Asian dynasties of the same era put their meaning into unifying their languages, culture and military might. Throughout the ages, the majority of humanity has had the question ‘why do I exist?’ cross their mind. And they’ve shared their thoughts through the stories, songs and dances they pass on from one generation to another. Those stories stick, and many of those stories are what ‘anchor’ them to the Universe.  It’s what helps many get from one hard day to another hard day; bypass my services for today, and wait until it really matters.” 

We both sat quietly with his thought. He was right. My tattoos did answer that pervasive “Why do I exist?” question, and I just like good artwork. I looked out the window. Although it was very blurry, I could make out at least that we were on a major highway approaching the city. As I squinted my eyes to get a better view of the scenery, a shot of acid ran down my eye and into my right arm. I winced. 

Angel must have noticed, because he shifted the conversation. “So…your encounter with my brother, V, and that event from the physical realm… you feel like it’s connected somehow to how you feel right now?” 

“That this acid is a residual from that bar fight and/or a supposed mass on my brain? Maybe.” I was annoyed that it just wouldn’t stop and that the lingering headache that came after truly did feel like I was punched in the face a day or two ago. 

“Maybe there’s something more here…” Angel mused.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean… you ever notice that when the acid hits you, the power goes out?” 

I thought about it more… “We did talk about that being a possibility, didn’t we? At the lighthouse? You think this power outage is happening in more places than just the lighthouse?” 

“I mean, you heard Misty and that news reporter, right? Power outages are everywhere. The question is are these outages happening every time an acid attack happens? Or is it something more?” 

“Right… Good questions.  Hmm… who would I speak to about this? You said it’s on a national level, so I couldn’t just call up an electrician about it?” 

“You could call an electrician about the library, but I doubt he knows why the whole country is having power outages…” 

I felt a buzz in my pocket. It was my phone! I somehow forgot I had one throughout my entire time with Angel. I picked it up, “Madame President!” A female voice came through the other line. “There you are! I’ve been trying to call you all this time!” Who was this? I held the phone super close to my face and squinted to read the name that popped up… Pneuma Panagos? “Pneuma?” 

“Yes! Did you remember, you set up a meeting with the Head of the Department of Energy today? It’s in two hours! Where have you been?” 

“Head of the Department of Energy…” I voiced out loud. 

“Yes. With Mr. Addison Voltaire. You disappeared on us this morning.” 

“Oh… I was uh… just at the library, checking out the power outages there and the… uh… lighthouse.” 

“You alright? You sound dazed.” 

“I am… I stepped on my glasses by accident. I need them fixed before I head to this meeting.” 

“Oh no! I know how much you need your glasses. Need me to schedule you an eye doctor’s appointment?” So Pneuma was my personal assistant? 

“No need. I’m with a friend right now. You know… Angel? Angel de Muerte?” 

“The head of the Department of Death? You scheduled a meeting with him today? I didn’t see it in the calendar.” So we had a whole Department of Death? The more you know.  Angel touched my arm and gestured for the phone. I handed it over. 

“Uh, hi, Pneuma? Yes. This is Angel. Hi. Yes. My meeting was unannounced. Apologies for keeping Madame President from her other duties here, but she’s in good hands. Yes, I’ll make sure she stays safe. Yes, I do have an eye doctor that we can see immediately. He’s actually a sight doctor really so you know Madame President will be in good hands…Dr. Dhrish Dave? You know him? Oh yes. I’ll tell him you said hi. Do you mind letting Mr. Voltaire know that we may be a few minutes late, but also that he is next on our agenda once Madame President gets her glasses? Yes. Thank you for your assistance. Alright. Bye-bye now. Take care.” He handed me the phone. “Sweet assistant you have there. She really takes good care of you.” 

“Thanks? I didn’t know I had one.” 

“Memory loss will do that to ya, won’t it? Looks like she was one step ahead of all of us and scheduled the meeting with the right person after all.  I’d say the Head of the Department of Energy is a great expert on all-things-national-power-outages-related, wouldn’t you say?” 

“Yep… I’d say that’s a good start.” The car stopped. 

“Speaking of good meetings, looks like we’re at our destination. You’re gonna love meeting with Dr. Dhrish Dave. He’s at the top of his field. He and I can talk about eyes for days!”

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Word Count: 1,761

Total Word Count: 19,043