“What do you mean I haven’t been speaking English this entire time?” I asked as Dr. Dhrish escorted us out of his office and into his reception room. Seeing words continue to float around the room, it was hard to focus on what was going on around me, so I slightly slid my index finger on the right arm of my glasses toward my face to turn off the visual words. I could see other patients waiting to be seen. Most patients looked human, others did not.  Someone had an elongated head, another didn’t have arms or legs, but wasn’t quite a snake. I didn’t know what it was. Many had more than two eyes. One had only one eye, like a cyclops. Most looked like they were severely visually impaired. Many wore some sort of corrective lens like I did. Some wore sunglasses indoors and carried poles. Others openly showed that they had cataracts or no eyes at all. 

“Exactly that. You aren’t speaking English.  How else can you talk with Angel? Or have you wondered how I can understand you? Or even Stan over there,” he waved at the armless, legless wormlike figure of a being. He looked like a human-sized Earthworm and took up the entire chair. “Even he can understand you. Say hi, Stan.” 

“Hi Stan!” He jokingly chirped back in a high pitched voice. Looking more at Stan, I questioned if he even had eyes. I tried not to show bewilderment in my face but I’m sure it was written all over it.

Angel chuckled at Stan’s comment. “Stan works for me. In the reprocessing department of the Department of Death. He’s really talented at what he does.” 

“Is Stan…a worm?” I whispered to Angel. Stan seemed to overhear and gasped. “Madame President! With all due respect, not all legless and armless creatures are worms!” 

Mortified, I attempted to make amends with my comment, “Uh… Sorry Stan! I’m just so confused right now. I’ve never talked with a wor-sorry-uh… ‘someone’ like you. I-uh…” I was fumbling. 

“I’m JOKING!” Stan gave a high pitched belly laugh. The other patients in the room chuckled with him. He continued to look directly at the wall behind us instead of directly at us. “I am a worm! And a good one at that!” A human aide that sat nearby continued to spritz him with water. 

I looked at Angel and then at Dr. Dhrish, confused. “Why is a worm at an eye — no sorry, a sight doctor’s? Weren’t they made to be blind?” 

Stan chimed in, “First off… rude. Second… um, yeah. And third…I’m the head of the Worm division of my reprocessing department.  I lead millions of worms in doing what they do best: turning dust into something nutritious and useful (in other words, dirt). Since I got promoted, I have to have meetings with not just the other worms in my department, but I have to meet with all of the other branches of the Department of Death. AND I just got asked to speak at a national conference that you’re supposed to be hosting yourself, Madame President. 

“Pulling a worm out of the dirt is like us throwing you into outerspace with no equipment. Being eyeless is a strength of mine in the dirt, but since you’ve called me to the surface and I gotta crawl around on these hot, dry streets and such, it looks like I have a severe disability. I don’t… okay. I’m just totally in the wrong environment. I’m at Dr. Dhrish’s to get fitted with my very own pair of eyes so I can navigate and stop crawling into walls. Mr. Angel called in a favor for me too and got me someone who will keep misting me down so I don’t dry out while I’m up here, and, Mr. Angel, I think you also said I’d be fitted with some fresh wheels too so I don’t actually have to crawl on that blistering pavement but I can glide across it instead?” he waved his tail in Angel’s direction. Angel rolled his eyes and sighed, “Yes, Stan…I’ll see what I can do…”

“Good, because as soon as I’m done, I’m going straight back into the ground with my crew to fix this crisis that you call a nation!” And with that he harrumphed back into his chair.  His aide misted him once again and said he should cool down or otherwise he’ll dry out before they even hit the pavement again. 

Dr. Dhrish chuckled and turned to me, “You see, you can even talk to a worm, and it understands you. You didn’t know you’ve been speaking in Universal Spirit all this time?” 

“Universal…what?” 

“The language the entire universe speaks in. You’ve been speaking in this language this entire time, but I guess you haven’t been able to hear or be aware that the universe can speak back until you put on those glasses. Since you can see the words in Universal Spirit Script now, I think you’ve now become aware of it. Also, because worms, for instance, talk a ton, but their voices are so high, humans can barely detect that they’re working under the ground. A bird, however, most certainly can hear the worms discussing their business of the day, can pinpoint exactly where they are, and find a meal—” 

“Ah-hem!” Stan squeaked. “I’m LITERALLY right here! We don’t talk about birds in this space… got it?!? Wretched creatures! All of them!” Stan’s human aide flashed pleading eyes toward the doctor as she heavily misted Stan down. 

“Oh…forgive me, Stan. I meant no offense…” Dr. Dhrish glanced awkwardly toward the human aide. After a brief awkward pause, Dr. Dhrish cleared his throat, “Anyway, you get the point. You can talk to just about anything. You always have been able to. Sometimes, we need a little assistance with being able to hear and understand what the conversation is all about.” 

Dr. Dhrish turned behind him toward a muscular man in a leather apron and a woman in a matching white lab coat the sight doctor’s. “Madame President…Angel…” he pulled out my previous crushed glasses. There were several large chunks of broken glass that Dr. Dhrish gingerly held. The frames were bent and it was cracked in two at the nose bridge. “My optician and glassmaker have humbly requested that these previous glasses get reprocessed here at our office. The glassmaker could reuse the pieces of glass to make new lenses for a few of our patients here today. Our optician can work with a few of her glasses designers to reuse the metals and plastics in these glasses and recreate a new design. These materials are valuable to us. Would you mind selling these pieces to us?” 

I was touched at how sensitive Dr. Dhrish’s voice was in his request. Before I could respond however, Angel asked, “You would like us to pull these glasses from reprocessing for your use? How valuable are these glasses to you?” 

Dr. Dhrish looked gravely at the optician and the glassmaker and then nodded, “A lot.  In short, Madame President, since we’ve been sanctioned from trading globally, the metals, plastics and glass within these glasses are in short supply.  I know these seem like ordinary glasses to you, but I was looking at the original quality and finish of what these were prior to them being broken and while they didn’t let you see sounds and such, they were still very well made glasses. The lenses will help Isbrand, here, speed up his glass making work. Blowing glass from sand takes a lot of time and patience, but we could remelt this and it would cut the time in half. And Oriana can save time and money with her broker for metal scraps to work with. We would be willing to trade you the glasses you have AND a lifetime supply of eyedrop bottles in exchange for your broken glasses. It will also allow me to offer the new pairs of glasses that I’m offering my clients at a more affordable cost. There’s been quite an uptick in the need for sight doctors lately and, since we handcraft our glasses, our costs are not inexpensive. Also, as you can see…” he gestured toward the empty display cases around the room, “All pre-made glasses have been sold out. All glasses right now need to be custom made. The pair that you’re wearing are the last pre-made glasses that I was holding back for someone special like you.  Because of these broken glasses, someone in this room today gets to walk home with a new pair within the day. Besides…who wouldn’t want to wear glasses made from the glasses of the Madame President?” 

The math seriously didn’t make sense to me, because I thought the new glasses were worth way more to me than what they were offering. The room grew silent as everyone waited for my decision. “Dr. Dhrish… if they mean that much to your business… then sure! Your team can have my old glasses!” 

Instantly, the room broke out in laughter and joy. The patients excitedly turned to each other, “I hope I’m the one who gets to go home with those glasses!” 

“No, I’m going home with them! It’ll be me!” 

“You’re a cyclops! They won’t even fit you!” 

Dr. Dhrish put his hands up to calm down the room. The patients grew quiet.  “Each of you will be going home with improved sight today.  Only some of you need glasses that look like Madame President’s previous glasses. Others will get to go home with your very own exclusive Madame President edition custom glasses, whether it’s one lens or eight lenses…” he looked at the spider like being in one of the chairs. “If we determine you need new lenses, you will get them.” 

At that, the room erupted in applause. “Ma-dame! Ma-dame! Ma-dame!” The room chanted. I blushed. “Guys…stop. I didn’t do too much… It’s really, Dr. Dhrish and his team…” 

All of the patients cheered louder. Even Stan joined in with his tail thumping on the floor. “Dr. Dhrish! Dr. Dhrish!” Angel laughed boisterously and shook his head. “My! You’ve got the liveliest crowd if I ever saw one…”  

“Oh…” Dr. Dhrish said, blushing. “There’s just a whole lot of people who want to see.  There’s not quite anything out there like the gift of sight for those who can’t see, you know?” 

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