The Polar Bears are Hunting Us

“The shadows are watching you.”

Those were his words. They came at me from out of the darkness. Out of the alley. Out of the box, the makeshift home that he was living in. When I heard them I took them like everyone else did, as the ravings of a crazy person.

“The end is nigh. The shadows are watching you.” It’s all the same when you think about it. The apocalyptic warnings of self-taught, non-ordained ministers whose pulpits are the nearest street corner. All he needed was to add “repent” to the beginning and end of his message and a well read, dog-eared bible to wave in the air and he would be complete. Unfortunately, no one told him early on that if you wear a hat made of tin foil they can’t scan your brain, maybe then he wouldn’t be living in a box bothering normal people.

“The shadows are watching you,” he repeated.

That’s what I used to believe, that only crazy people talked like that, that only people with mental problems thought the world was spying on them. That was before I saw them. They were right where he said they were, in the shadows, watching.

My first reaction was to tell myself that it was an optical illusion. Light and shadows teaming together to trick me into seeing something that really wasn’t there. Or maybe it was my eyes, they were the culprit, the merry tricksters having a laugh at what I thought I was seeing. But it wasn’t an illusion and there were no tricks being played, they are real and they’re watching us. Studying us. Learning.

I don’t know what they are or where they come from, maybe outer space? Maybe another dimension? Maybe they’re just spirits? Or maybe they’ve always been here and we never realized it? Never saw them before. Never wanted to know we aren’t alone. Either way they’re here now and we have to do something about it.

The first time I saw them I was watching television. I should say the first time I realized they were here, was while I was watching television, because just like you, I’ve seen them many times before, and like you I chose to ignore them.

The first time I saw them was while I was watching television. I didn’t see him straight on, it was more out of the corner of my eye. He was standing there, watching. When I turned to see who it was he was gone. It must have been my imagination I told myself, the effects of staying up late watching horror movies. The truth is as quickly as I turned my head to see who it was he blended back into his hiding place, back into the shadows. They live in the shadows.

A few days later I saw another one, this time walking down the hall. I think it was another one, but I can’t swear to it. It might have been the same one I saw before, the glimpse of him was too quick to tell. All I know is that there was someone there. Someone that didn’t belong. Once again I saw him out of the corner of my eye and once again when I turned to see who it was he just as quickly disappeared.

That’s when I started looking for them. Started searching for their hiding places. My first attempts were fruitless, there was nothing to be seen. Then I realized that I was going about it all wrong. Whenever I saw them I wasn’t paying attention, I was looking at something else or lost in a daydream. I was watching TV or reading a book or something like that. That’s when they would appear, when I could see them out of the corner of my eye.

I’m a photographer by trade. I made my living taking pictures. Both still and video. As a videographer I trained myself to look out of both eyes. Sounds simple, right? Something we do every day? Trust me, it isn’t. When you’re looking through a camera you’re looking at something close up, the viewfinder. If you open your other eye you’re looking at what’s far away, the subject or anything that might interfere with your taking the picture. What I did was train my eyes to look at what’s near and far simultaneously, one eye looking at what’s close, the other at what’s far. Think of it as a keyboard player playing two different tunes on two different keyboards at the same time. Difficult at first, but far from impossible.

Then I started to think like a still photographer. Think about focal lengths. When you use a telephoto lens you have to pay close attention to focus. If you focus on something close the background is blurred. If you focus on something far away whatever is close blurs. And if you blur the foreground enough you can give it the illusion of disappearing.

It doesn’t work that way with the naked eye because our eyes compensate for the focal lengths. They’re capable of focusing on everything they see at the same time. They’re a remarkable feat of engineering magic, the most complex lens ever created.

But kids’ eyes are different, especially the very young. The muscles are still developing. They’ll ignore what’s going on around them unless it’s something big and bright, probably because everything else is just a blur to them. Because of that maybe they can see things that we can’t. Maybe by having everything else out of focus certain things become clear. Things we aren’t supposed to see.

Have you ever noticed a baby staring at nothing? Laughing and clapping as if an imaginary clown with a big red nose and colorful balloons was there dancing a jig? Maybe that’s because they can see them? Maybe there under developed eyes can see things ours can’t? Maybe they can see the shadow people?

Animals can see them too. Animals like dogs. If you ever owned a pet, then you’ve probably seen them spring up from a peaceful sleep, prick up their ears and act as if someone or something entered the room.

“Stop,” they’ll bark. “Take another step and I’ll attack.”

Then they’ll hunch down, curl their lips and expose their teeth, proving they mean business.

Man’s best friend to the rescue.

And our reaction? We scold them. Yell at them to be quiet. Hit them across their butt with a rolled up newspaper. “There’s nothing there,” we tell them, then we go back to what we were doing, blissfully unaware of the danger they saved us from.

I remember reading a study once that said dogs and other animals can see things we can’t, like UV light. Ultraviolet. It’s a wavelength that humans can’t register, but some animals can. Over generations they’ve developed the method as a lifesaving device. It’s like a reindeer being able to see a polar bear hiding in freshly fallen snow. To us the predator is almost invisible, white blending with white, but to the reindeer, they’re able to see the polar bear. It’s that or be eaten. A simple matter of life or death.

So I started training my eyes. Teaching them how to focus on what I wanted them to see. I started looking for the polar bears, our polar bears, the ones that hide in the shadows. If I saw someone standing out of the corner of my eye I wouldn’t turn to look, instead I’d pretend to keep watching TV and use my peripheral vision to watch them. I’d focus my eye on where they were. Pretend I didn’t see them while all along I’d be watching them. Studying them like they study us.

If I saw someone walking down the hall I’d just keep on reading, again focusing my eye to make them visible. And each time they were there. Each time I saw them, watching us, testing us, studying us. They were looking for our weaknesses. Learning.

At times they have strange machines they use. Devices we can’t see or feel or hear. They’ll turn them on then start taking notes. Write down what the instruments say. Write down how we react. And if we catch a glimpse of them? Catch them in the act? Then they disappear back into their hiding place. Back into the shadows, and we assume it’s an optical illusion or that our eyes are playing tricks on us or something like that.

“Guess it’s time to get my eyes checked,” we’ll lie to ourselves. “I better get my glasses fixed,” we’ll say, content to remain in the ignorance we live in.

When family and friends are around we might feel a little braver. “I feel like someone’s watching me,” we’ll admit, then feign a laugh as the hairs on the back of our neck stand on end because deep down we know we’re right, someone is watching us. It’s the polar bears and they’re hunting us.

I’ve come to realize that they’re everywhere, as long as there are shadows there isn’t a place that they can’t hide. And it doesn’t matter if it’s day or night. You see shadows even exist at night. They’re created by street lamps or car headlights, even the moon can cast a shadow. And at night they’re bigger, longer, more distorted. Scarier.

So I searched for where they weren’t. Where I couldn’t be watched. Where I’d be safe. And I found it, in darkness. The irony is the place that terrified us the most as children is the one place where we’re the safest. I know it sounds strange, but there is a difference between shadow and dark. A difference they’ve noticed. Maybe it’s their one weakness.

I avoid shadows now, that means I avoid light. I don’t want them to know what I’m doing. I don’t want them to know that I can see them. I feel safer that way.

Like I said, I don’t know what they are or where they came from, whether from outer space or another dimension? Or whether they’ve been here all along and we just never realized it? Either way they’re here now so I stay out of their view. I stay here in my box hidden in this alley. My box lined with foil, it keeps them from scanning my brain. And as everyone passes I give them the same warning that I’m giving you.

“The shadows are watching you.”