Forty Lashes

Forty Lashesby Alex Mugford

          “Alright, now let’s talk a little bit about how the eye reacts in low light,” Dr. Adams continued his lecture to a class of two hundred.
         “If you haven’t figured it out by this point, rods and cones are a pivotal component to our vision, specifically our low light vision. Can someone tell me some of the functions of rods and cones?”
         Of course, I was the one to raise my hand first.
         “Aimee, is it? Okay, socket to me,” the class chuckled at the pun and he foolishly grinned at their reaction.
         “Light perception, color differentiation, and depth perception.”
         “Looks like someone has been doing their homework,” he smiled at me. Instantly, the blood rushed to my cheeks and I looked down at my notes, avoiding further eye contact. Abby was sitting behind me and she poked me with her pen. I looked back and she winked at me, making me blush even more, but Dr. Adams drew the attention away from me almost immediately.
         “I wish I could say the same for this fellow,” the professor said as he walked over to a student with his head on his desk, snoring softly. Dr. Adams slammed his fist down on his desk and the student whipped in an upright position, his face wet with drool.
         “Nice of you to join us, Mr. Young. You wouldn’t be able to tell me a little bit about the eyes characteristics during R.E.M sleep, now would you?” the class erupted with laughter, another attempt to make us laugh was successful.
         The student looked up at Dr. Adams and mumbled something that was more like a yawn.
         “Thought not,” he disappointingly said. “From now on, stay focused,” those who picked up on it chuckled at another one of his puns.
         “Now where was I? The eyes adaptation to darkness, right. Now, there are a few ways in which the eyes adapt to low light. First, the pupil is like an aperture on a camera. It opens and closes depending on how bright the light is. Photosensitive ganglion cells receive these light signals and adjust the pupil accordingly,” he discussed while pacing in front of the classroom. His gaze always paused on me for a few seconds before resuming his casual glance at the rest of the students.
        “Secondly, the chemistry within the eye changes as well, but not right away. Low light adaptation can take place in four seconds, but for full adaptation, it takes up to thirty minutes. This varies because adaptation is dependent on good blood flow, so age can be a big factor. But for you younger folks, vasoconstrictors like alcohol or tobacco will limit your night vision.” I scribbled every word down, devouring the information and committing it to memory.
        Dr. Adams glanced back at the clock. “Alright folks, that’s all we have time for today. You are one day closer to becoming optometrists. See you next week.”
        As the rest of the students began to shuffle out of the lecture theatre, Abby jumped over the seat to my row. I was still busy scribbling down the last points of his lecture.
        “Becoming bit of a teacher’s pet, are we?”
        “Oh shut up,” I said and once again my face became hot, still writing in my notebook.
        “He’s pretty cute, I must say. He’s what, twenty seven, thirty at the most? I say you go up and talk to him. He obviously digs you.”
        “Don’t be ridiculo…”
        “Aimee?” I looked up and the voice was Dr. Adams. “Can I see you in my office?”
        I managed a nod.
         “Great. Room 345,” and he walked out of the hall.
         “Well, well,” Abby smirked. “Looks like opportunity has fallen into your lap!”
         “Oh give it a rest,” and I slammed my book shut.

         Dr. Adams office was at the far corner of the building, near all of the laboratories; an odd place for an office, I thought. I marched down the hall counting the doors as I went. An old utility man was standing on a ladder in the middle of the hallway, tinkering with the fluorescent lights. The light he was working on flickered on and off, making that section of the hallway repeatedly fall into darkness. The utility man’s walkie talkie crackled to life and a distorted voice rang through.
        “Status?” He put his tools back in his belt, came down the ladder and spoke to the voice on the other side, “Yeah, we’re gonna have to cut the power to the floor after all. Looks like mice chewed through some wiring. Gotta replace it.”
        “Roger.”
        The lights blinked a few times then the hallway submerged into complete darkness. I stood motionless and let my photosensitive ganglion cells slowly adjust my eyes to the darkness. A flashlight sputtered to life and a bright light shone in my face, my pupils contracting instantaneously.
        “Shouldn’t be too long, miss. It’ll only take me a few minutes to run this wire.” He shone the flashlight upwards and his eyes mutated into two empty sockets like a skull. “Where ya headed?” his voice was rough like a chainsaw.
        “Um, room 345.”
        “I’ll show you the way before I get started.”
        In the little light his flashlight offered, the old man led me down the hallway which seemed to be transformed into a cavernous grotto. The light scraped against portraits of long dead teachers that had once taught at the university. Their ghostly pale pigment emerged from the darkness and hunted me with silver nocturnal eyes.  I intuitively looked over my shoulder and I could see the red exit sign cast an aberrant glow on the walls, setting them ablaze. The illumination by no means suggested comfort.
        Dr. Adams’ door was at the end of the hall which the old utility man shone his light on. “There you are, miss - room 345.”
        I slowly read the numbers on the door. Three. Four. Five. Below the numbers were diagrams of the human eye, a class schedule, and a picture of a scene from Little Red Riding Hood. The wolf was dressed in her grandmother’s clothes and the caption read, “The better to see you with, my dear.” I knocked on the door.
        “Come in!”
        I nodded to the old man and he fiendishly smiled back at me. Then his head seemingly twisted around to face the other direction before the rest of the body followed suit.  Idioms like ‘I’ll believe it when I see it’ entered my mind, but if Dr. Adams had taught me anything its that eyes are fools and are easily tricked. He shuffled back to the ladder still clutching his torch, his tool belt clanging like shackles. Darkness once again. I turned the handle and opened the door, my eyes still not fully adjusted to the dim light.

        Dr. Adams’ windowless office was lit by a few candles, the light falling upon forbidding decorations. Exaggerated models of eyes rested on his desk with pieces of the puzzle purposely left out. Like an onion, each layer of the eye was peeled back, revealing its amazing biology. The model displayed deep red extrinsic muscles which caused the eye to pitch and yaw. Another model exhibited the eyes closest neighbor. A human brain rested on a pedestal while two eyes hovered in front. But the most startling ornament was these eyes - human or otherwise - floating in jars above me on shelves. Displayed like trophies, the pupils were clouded over and blind. If I ever had the feeling of being watched, this place takes the cake.
        “I’m glad you could come, Aimee. Take a seat.”
        Even in the dim light I could still see how handsome he was. His soft features made me stare at him in admiration. His glance seemed to drift around my face, never directly looking at me. The only stare that never disengaged mine was the floating eyes in the jars.
        “The damn lights, eh? They’re making out rods and cones work double time today,” he snickered. “They told me this might happen so I brought along these candles. I have an office closer to class but it’s too far away from the lab, I never use it. Pardon me for making you walk all the way to this closet,” he chuckled again.
        “Oh I don’t mind.”
        “Know why you’re here?”
        I shook my head ‘no’ then he took something out of a folder and slapped it down in front of me.
        “That’s why.”
        I took the papers in my hand and examined them by the candles.
        “My analytic paper?”
        “Ninety five percent. Amazing. Good work.”
        “Really?!”
        You know, Aimee. You’re one of the good ones. If you keep doing what you’re doing, you just might graduate with honors.”
         “This is….so great to hear. I am flattered.”
         “Don’t be flattered,” he said, “be proud. You deserve everything that is coming to you. You’re one of my favorite pupils.”
        I burst out laughing, and maybe even a snort, but it quickly changed to nervous laughter. I was thankful we were in the dark because my face seared.
         “Well, that’s all. You’re free to go.”
        I got up out of the chair. “Thank you so much, Dr. Adams,” and I turned towards the door and reached for its handle but paused for a second before I turned around and said, “Your classes have been amazing. Y-Y-You’re a great teacher.”
         He smiled humbly. “Well, thank you, Aimee. Its students like you who make this job worthwhile.”
        I grinned at his answer then turned and opened the door.
         “One more thing, Aimee.”
        I swung around eagerly. “Yes, Dr. Adams?” the smile still plastered to my face.
         “Are you an organ donor?”
        I furrowed my brow at the odd question. “An organ donor? Yeah, of course.”
         “Heart, lungs, eyes?”
         “Yeah, all of those, I think.”
         “You have beautiful eyes. I’d be happy to get my hands on those someday,” and he smiled in the candle light. He looked priestly behind his desk; all the eyes around him were sacrificial offerings, all the models like tiny shrines. The candle light danced around the room, casting shadows in every crevice. The largest shadow by far was that of Dr. Adams which hovered behind him like wings.
         But sadly, all I heard from his final words were about how beautiful my eyes were; nothing else pierced my perception of the professor. I left his office smothered in smiles. As I closed the door behind me, the hallway lights hummed to life.