EYES IN THE GLASS

Horror short story

(5,300 words)

1898

I awoke that morning, filled with a childish excitement. Despite a night of troubled rest I felt energised and exhilarated. After thankless years of study and research, long weeks spent designing and procuring my equipment, and late nights labouring over calculations and equations by guttering candlelight, the day was finally here.

Rising quickly, I dressed and made my way downstairs. As I entered the dining room I saw that David, my nephew and assistant, was already waiting for me. He too had found that his excitement for today's tests had pushed sleep from his head. A tall, intelligent boy, David had proven to be a most useful aide in my endeavours. Since coming to live with me he had proven time and again to have the sharpest of minds, and grasped the ideas and structures of our field as easily as I. By that point, I am sure, he knew as much on the subject of æther as I, if not more. With him able to travel about the country procuring the equipment we required, each piece ordered to the strictest specifications, I had been free to remain at home and work on the mathematical theory. Each aspect of the experiment had to be correct to the most minute detail. Every element checked and rechecked. Nothing could be left to chance.

Neither of us spoke while we ate. Rapidly consuming our breakfasts, we rose and made hastily from the house, out across the courtyard and to my workshop. The day was cool, with pale clouds hanging low and still over the sky. The conditions were perfect. There was none of the weather that I feared might interfere with the experiment, nor any glaring sunlight that might have obscured our observations.

I ushered David inside and locked the stout wooden door behind us. We did not expect visitors, but I had no wish to be disturbed by a chance guest on that of all days. The workshop was just as we had left it the previous evening. All was tidied away, ready for the experiment. Miscellaneous equipment was packed away on the shelves. Along one wall ran the bench where the chemicals and mixing apparatus sat. The main table sat where we had placed it in the centre of the room, cleared of all clutter. On this sat the Bowl.

The Æther Bowl. This one piece of equipment had taken over a year to design and commission. The cost alone had been enough to make me reconsider my plans more than once, but there had been no other way I could see to obtain my predicted results and so the expense had to be borne. Made of one continuous piece of glass, the Bowl was a sphere two feet across. Within that sphere sat another, with half a foot of space between the two surfaces. Solid brass fittings sat where rubber pipes snaked out of each chamber, allowing for the attachment of the vacuum pump. Sitting in the centre of the Bowl, the small swab of chemicals lay within its wire mesh, which was in turn connected to the electrical nodes. It was these chemicals that would, if my calculations and theories were correct, draw in and store the æther!

Æther. Plato's fifth element. My studies in this field had begun so many years ago, during my time at university. He wrote of it with such little understanding, yet he knew it was there. Above us. Eternal and unreadable. Until now, anyway. Since then, I had read all the theories and ideas that

have been speculated upon over the centuries, and for most of my adult life I had been certain of its existence and possibilities. I knew that given the correct conditions I could draw upon it. Harness it. Æther is a force, a substance just as real as electricity or air. Before that day I had possessed no proof to offer, but I was sure it could be done and that I could be the one to do it.

Many mocked me for my choice of study. Most, by this time, had dismissed Plato's theories completely, but my young mind was caught by the ideas of those ancient philosophers. I recall how I used to marvel at those ancient men who deduced so much of our world, with only the primitive tools of their age at their disposal. With just their intellects, without the bedrock of knowledge we can now rely upon, what a study they made of the universe. They gave the world the knowledge that forms the basis of so much of our modern world. That wonder never left me as I set out to follow in their footsteps. And if so many of their ideas had been proven correct, why not æther? Plato knew of it. Aristotle knew of it. Newton knew of it. Yet it had taken two thousand years before mankind had the technology to attempt proving its existence.

What possibilities it held! Communications; I am still sure that there is some way, similar to radio waves, that messages can be sent across vast distances through the æther flood. And power? Similar to electricity in so many of its properties, I was as certain then as we know now that æther, once harnessed, would be a far cheaper and safer alternative to electrical current.

It would be my masterpiece. My vindication. The culmination of a life's work.

Quickly, the two of us began connecting and preparing the equipment. First we carefully attached the tubes to the fastenings on the Bowl, connecting the seals to the vacuum pump. Then David carried over the voltaic cell and methodically attached the wires. My hands were shaking too much with excitement and I relied on him for most of the work. I watched in fevered anticipation as the connections were made, and soon the thumping vibrations of the pump filled the room as it began the process of extracting the air from the outer chamber of the Bowl.

Time passed slowly, with both of us staring intently into the glass despite the fact that there was no visible signal of progress. After what seemed an eternity the dials at last indicated that the outer chamber was empty. Pure vacuum. We set the valves and disconnected the pump. Now the inner chamber was safe from any possible interference, other than those of my design. David set the pump to the connecting tubes of the inner chamber and we began the wait afresh.

As the second chamber was slowly drained of air, I remember how I was unable to pull my eyes from the cotton swab sitting in the thin wire mesh. The mixture that soaked the raw cotton had been literally been years in the making. I had spent months pouring over texts both modern and ancient, searching for clues in the work of every scientist of the last two millennia to consider the problem. Even then, I could not be sure that the formula would work. The solution was entirely theoretical. Æther is all around us, but mostly flows in a great flood above us. The ignition of the correct chemicals in a vacuum should, my mathematics indicated, draw the æther forth in a state in which it could be seen by the naked eye. If anything was to go wrong that day, it would have been that mixture. If I had been incorrect in my amalgamations, then all of my work and preparations would have been for nothing.

At last the inner chamber was empty. Nothing but pure vacuum surrounded the swab. All was ready. David set the seals and disconnected the voltaic cells. Now was the time. I took the end of the wire that trailed from the Bowl in my hand and held it over the cell. The wire hat was connected to the mesh surrounding the swab. Once the connection was made the electric current would, if all went well, cause the chemicals to ignite and begin the experiment. My hands were shaking, but I could not hand the wire over to my companion. This one task was mine, and mine alone. I could no more hand it to another than would David have accepted it. I held my breath. This was it. The culmination and climax of a lifetime's work and study. I glanced at David and saw my own excitement reflected in his eyes.

Gingerly, I touched the wire to the final connector on the voltaic cell. In an instant the charge flew along the conductive wire and into the Bowl. It sped into the thin mesh which then, as it had been designed to do, flashed out of existence, taking the swab with it. An intense orange flame flared up and then was gone. I flinched from the burst of light. When I turned back I saw that all had gone as hoped. The swab and wire were consumed utterly, leaving no trace. The Bowl was empty.

I leant in, yearning for some sign, some indication that I was right. All I had at that moment was hope. Hope that my calculations and formulas had been correct. Hope that the Bowl had been built to the correct specifications. Hope that my life's work was not about to be rubbished utterly. I couldn't breath. My heartbeat thumped against my chest. David busied himself extinguishing the lights and drawing the curtains across the windows and soon the room was shrouded in expectant darkness.

Ah! But not quite. The faintest illumination was causing a shadow to cast itself on the table's surface; a faint eggshell blue shadow that spread across the equipment, over the table's surface and towards me.

I looked deep within the Bowl. A faint spark of light hovered at its centre. Faint, but growing stronger. I was afraid even to breath as I stared wide eyed at this miracle growing slowly before me. Steadily it increased, its soft blue light casting an etherial luminescence over the workshop. Soon the entire inner chamber was filled with a uniform glow that bathed the entire room in light. It was strong and clear enough to to see by, yet not so bright as to hurt the eye as I stared directly into it.

I felt tears running down my cheeks. This was it. We two were the first men ever to look upon pure æther. I tore my eyes away to see David beside me writing furiously into a notebook. I had not even thought of making any record of this moment. For me the joy was too great. I could not quite bring myself to believe my own eyes. I was a man of science. I had dedicated my life to wrestling with one the mysteries of the universe, seeking reason and proof for one of its many facets, of concepts first espoused by Plato himself, and yet here I was, gazing open mouthed as if I regarded an angel.

I did nothing for those first moments but gaze into the Bowl. Then I noticed an odd odour; not unpleasant, it was rather a clean, sterile smell. The permeating hints of dust and chemicals that normal filled the interior of my workshop were now replaced by this emptiness. It was almost the opposite of scent. One did not really acknowledge it, but rather the absence of those odours you had grown accustomed to. I mentioned this to David but he had already noted it, and it was documented in his book.

Overcome by what I was seeing I felt my legs began to shake, and so I sat down heavily. From my chair I continued to look into the Bowl and I saw, staring straight back at me, a pair of striking blue eyes.

Startled, I straightened up and looked over the table. There was nobody there. David and I were alone in the room as we had always been. Shaking my head I looked back into the Bowl.

There again, the startling blue eyes. As clear as anything, they regarding me with a distinct intelligence.

I was startled, for they had not been visible a few moments before. I thought them a simple reflection, and that some property of the light caused my own deep brown eyes to appear blue. I searched around the interior of the Bowl, hunting for some glint or sign of refraction that might explain the appearance of this phenomenon. I could see nothing, but did notice that when I tilted my own head the eyes did not mirror my movements. Curious, I purposely moved my head about, keeping the eyes in my field of vision at all time. Then I proceeded to carefully blink each of my own eyes one after the other. Not once did the blue eyes move. For all the world it appeared as if they were the eyes of one sitting stationary on the opposite side of the table to me.

Then the light within the Bowl began to dim. I stared, desperate to catch every last second of this most life changing of moments, and as I did I saw those intense blue eyes regarding me. As the soft blue light faded so to did they, until both were gone and the room was once again shrouded in darkness.

David and I sat there for some time. Neither of us spoke. We were both overawed by the feelings that came from seeing our work vindicated. Eventually, David stood and lit the lamps. I simply sat there, staring still into the now empty Bowl. My mind was reeling from the enormity of what we had just accomplished. The physical proof of my theories had been before us, easily replicable, and plans for the next stage in our work could now begin. And still I was haunted by the memory of those striking blue eyes.

Once the initial exhilaration wore off, we busied ourselves taking down notes and detailing the whole process in minute detail. Now the initial shock was over, we were as giddy as schoolboys. David was barely able to keep still, pacing around the room and speaking in a most animated manner. His elation mirrored that which I felt myself, though I remained seated for fear that my shaking legs might not hold my weight. We discussed and dissected each and every aspect and detail; the hue of the light, the time each step of the process had taken, and of course the appearance of those eyes. Though we both wrote that off as a some mundane reflection, I wish I could say that I had been as convinced as David was.

We soon began detailing possible improvements for the repeat experiment. This absorbed the remainder of the morning, and we were still deep in our business when the cook's girl came cautiously knocking upon the door to inform us that luncheon was ready.

Not wishing to be away from the workshop for more than absolutely necessary, the two of us hurried to the house and set about our meal. David would have ordered the food brought to us, but I have never held with food in my workshop. The chance of contamination is far too great. I have always insisted on the benefits of breaking for regular meals, however important your work, yet on that day it was all I could do not to break my own prohibition. As we sat, a stillness settled over me. David was still outlining his thoughts out loud but after a while, seeing me so overcome, he left me be. Despite all the excitement of the morning, for the first time in days my mind was not filled with formulae and equations but with those mysterious eyes that could not be banished from my thoughts.

The meal done, we began the afternoon readying the Bowl for the repeat of that morning's experiment. The apparatus was disconnected, cleared and cleaned. Carefully, under my exacting eye, David mixed up the chemicals and soaked a fresh swab with the mixture. This was placed in a fresh wire mesh and inserted into the Bowl. Then each of the seals was reattached, the equipment readied and we once more prepared ourselves.

Before we began, I fetched three more chairs from the side of the room and arranged them around the table. Now one could sit and view the results from each cardinal point. Despite all the

possibilities for the manipulation of æther I had planned on studying that day, all I could think on during those moments was the mystery of the eyes. For reasons I could not deduce I needed to know what they meant.

Extinguishing the lights, once more we set the pumps and voltaic cells. When all was ready, once again the soaked swab burst into brief incandescence. The appearance of the flame was different than before. The swab being freshly soaked, rather than having sat all night as the previous one had done, this one burned slower and with a wet, yellow flame. I feared that this might cause a fault in the test, but to my relief the pale blue light began to grow in the centre of the vacuum and within a few moments we were once again staring into the captured æther.

My hands gripped the wooden bench as I stared once more into the glass. There they were! This time the eyes were there almost as soon as the light had filled the inner chamber. I breathed in and noted that once more the dust and chemical scents were eclipsed by the clean scent of nothing.

I reached out and touched the glass surface of the bowl. At the moment my fingers made contact, the eyes vanished. It was as if some cloud or mist had blown across them, obscuring them completely. Instantly I removed my hand. As soon as the contact was lost the eyes reappeared.

What marvel was this? What strange illusion could this etherial light cast? Without moving, I ordered David to put his head close to mine and tell me what he saw. Reluctantly setting aside his pen, he crouched behind me. The eyes remained clearly in my vision the whole time, yet he reported that he saw nothing but the Bowl and the light within. I insisted; could he not make out the pair of eyes reflected in the light? Again, he claimed he saw nothing.

What then was this vision? There had to be some explanation, and I was determined to deduce the answer before this experiment ran its course. David did not dismiss my insistence of this vision. As a man of science, he knew that æther would hold many strange qualities, the listing of which would occupy us for many months ahead. He simply did not find this one thing as compelling as I and quickly returned to his notes.

I continued to stare into those eyes. I could feel that they also regarded me. They had a life about them that belied rational possibility. I was sure that they must be some strange reflection, yet as I looked I saw that they could not possibly be the mirror of my own. Even discounting the disparity in colour, I know my own face well enough to recognise the eyes of an old man. These were not them. They were young eyes, yet with something behind them that sat in contrast with their apparent youth. There was a feminine tilt to them, and also something I could not place. A sadness perhaps? Some aspect of recognition maybe? A subtle familiarity gnawed at me.

I stood and sat in the chair I had placed opposite my own, where one would have expected the owner of the eyes to be seated were they of the physical world. From this angle the Bowl seemed empty. I did the same with the other seats. Each time I saw only the muted outline of the room through the concave glass of the Bowl. Only on returning to my original seat did I see the eyes again, staring back at me as before. For all intent and purpose it seemed as if some spectre sat in the chair opposite me, visible only through the glass.

The light began to fade once again, and I watched as the eyes faded with it. Though their manifestation fled, the haunting sensation remained. I could not shake the certain feeling that there was something I was missing. They were but one mystery of many, but I could not concentrate on any other.

I attempted to drag my mind back to the matter at hand. Comparing the notes from the two experiments, David and I saw that this second attempt had lasted a good minute longer than the first. While the Bowl had not been designed with the intention of storing the æther indefinitely, our hope what that in the future this would be a possibility. The change in duration therefore caused great speculation between us about the change in the chemical mixture being fresher, and the swab being still wet. The remainder of the afternoon and evening was given over to pouring over the formula that had taken me so long to create, thinking together on ways to improve it. The day sped by in a flurry of mathematics and chemistry, and by nightfall we had a selection of solutions sitting waiting for the next morning's work. David wished to continue on, but I insisted upon rest. Nighttime work was another self imposed prohibition. I had learned long ago of the importance of working with a fresh mind and the risks of missing some vital fact due to our own fatigue. Instead we cleaned and laid out the equipment for the following day and returned to the house.

While David's excitement had only grown as the day had worn on, I had become more sober. I could not shake the vision of those eyes from my head. There was something about them, some fact that I was missing. I was sure of it. They were no simple trick of the light through the glass. This was proven by David's inability to see them whilst at the same time I could observe them clearly. In truth, my nephew seemed to care very little about this visual manifestation. His mind was already racing along the paths of rational scientific application, powered by the vision and excitement of youth.

We bade each other good night and retired to our own rooms. I had instructed the cook not to disturb us at dinner time but to leave a tray in our rooms for when we returned. It awaited me as I entered, but I could not eat. My appetite had been extinguished by the mystery. I sat by the dying light of my fire and pondered over the events of the day. On this day of all days, why could I not drag my thoughts from this one thing? I was the man who had proven, after centuries of debate, the certain existence of æther. I had taken something many considered to be a crackpot theory and proven it to be a samplable quantity. Why could I summon up no excitement? So many questions had been answered through today's work and many more now sat ready to be addressed, yet all I could do was picture those two blue eyes staring out at me from the Bowl. If I closed my eyes I could still see them. When I opened them I expected to see them there; those sapphire blue, piercing eyes floating before me in their unfathomable gaze.

I did not feel even close to sleep and sat up until well after midnight. I could not free my mind of it. It ate away at me. What or who were these eyes? These blue, hauntingly familiar eyes? I could not take the mystery any more. I had to know. Unable to fight the desire to know more, I resolved to break my own convention and undertake the experiment once again. Alone.

Carefully, making as little sound as possible, I crept from my room and along the corridor. I carefully navigated through the darkness of the house until I reached the door to the courtyard. Outside, the clouds had passed and moonlight bathed the ground with silvery light. Walking swiftly, I reached my workshop and made my way inside.

Lighting one of the lamps from my candle, I began to prepare the Bowl. It took longer alone, but soon enough all was ready. I turned to the bench where that evening David and I had mixed the various different chemical solutions. There was one I was most convinced would grant a stronger reaction. If it failed, I resolved that I would return to my room and in the morning beg forgiveness from David for breaking my own rule and working through the night without him. Soaking a fresh swab in the solution, I set it within its wire mesh and fixed it in place.

As the vacuum pump whirred and thumped, emptying each chamber in turn, I sat in dread that their noise would draw David from the house. I knew, for reasons I could not put into words, that I had to see those eyes alone. This was a mystery I had to solve, and for some unknown reason I knew that the answer would not come should any other be with me.

It seemed an indeterminable length of time before the gauges registered that both the outer then inner chambers were empty. I carefully set the seals and rewired the voltaic cell. My hands shook as I held the last wire. Wiping my palms on the coarse fabric of my shirt, I carefully extinguished the lamp and, with my eyes fixed on the swab, touched the wire to the cell's connector.

With a wet burst of yellow fire, the swab ignited. I flinched from the brightness of it and then leant in until my face was almost touching the smooth glass. I sat there, my breath caught in my throat. For a while nothing happened. My heart began to sink. Had this mixture been the wrong choice? Had this entire night's clandestine work been for nothing?

Then that speck of blue light finally appeared. I stared as the carefully constructed conditions of the Bowl gradually drew in the æther from the great flow far above until the entire inner chamber glowed, bathing the room with the eerily peaceful blue light.

I believe that the process was slower that time, but so focused was I on the opposite side of the glass, so impatient for fresh results, that I cannot be sure. Every sense was straining forward, desperate to see and deduce the cause of that alluring phenomenon.

There! There they were, staring back at me; those two striking, feminine blue eyes. Definitely no reflection of my own. I shook and angled my head but never once did they mirror my actions. They simply regarded me. Again I moved to all four chairs in turn, and again I saw nothing. The eyes were only visible from that one angle. Leaning in, careful not to touch the glass, for fear that action would once again banish the image, I stared deep into the eyes. Those hauntingly familiar eyes. What was it that they recalled? What was it that gave me the inability to forget them?

The eyes in the glass blinked.

I jumped. I had not once seen them do this before. Suddenly they seemed alive in a way they hitherto had not. So much more than simply an illusion or trick of the light. They became more human. I was convinced that they regarded me as much as I regarded them. Again! Once more the eyes closed and opened. Nothing could have been more real unless somebody had in truth been sitting across the Bowl from me.

I leant in. Their movement had only increased the sense of familiarity. There was something itching at the back of my mind. Something I could not quite...

Elizabeth!

The realisation struck me like a physical blow, sending a shockwave through me so hard I almost fell. Those eyes! Those striking blue eyes were the eyes of Elizabeth! Now I had seen it, I could see nothing else. They were, beyond any possible doubt, her eyes. How many times had I stared into those deep, beautiful sea blue eyes all those years ago. Before she had been taken from me.

My fingers gripped the hard wooden grain of the table, seeking to anchor me in the real world which had been so suddenly pulled from beneath me. Nothing seemed true. This could not be. I could not look away. Such a sadness I saw reflected in those eyes. A sadness that had never been there in life. Not even at the end. Elizabeth. Always happy, always laughing Elizabeth. Those beautiful eyes that always reflected the love shown her by a poor youthful student of science.

Sadness and life stared at me from the Bowl, and sadness and life stared back.

I do not know what it was, but something within me stopped that night as Elizabeth and I gazed at each other through the æther. Nothing else passed between us aside from that which can be conveyed through the eye alone. I do not know how long we remained there before the light began to fade one final time. To me it felt like an eternity. All I know is that I sat there looking into those eyes as the soft light withdrew, and those eyes looked back into mine. Eventually it was gone, and Elizabeth with it.

I did not move. I sat there in the darkness until the cold fingers of dawn began to bleed through the windows to find me simply sat staring into the clear, empty glass of the Bowl.

David found me later that morning sitting in the old chair in the courtyard, staring up at the clear morning sky. He found it funny that I had been unable to resist working alone through the night, and put my malaise down to exhaustion. I could not explain to him what had happened. He took me upstairs and saw me to bed, where I lay for hours unable to sleep. The light may have faded, but Elizabeth's eyes remained floating before me until at last I fell into an unrestful slumber.

Since that day I have been unable to bring myself to work anymore on the Bowl, or anything of the new study of æther my work has brought about. David, of course, threw himself into my former work and quickly took my prepared place as the foremost expert in the field. I am glad. It is good that somebody carries it on. I cannot. Ever since that night I have found I have no passion for science, or any practical calling. I have retired from public and professional life. Many attribute it to a malaise brought on by finally reaching my life's goal. They believe that I, having now proven the existence of æther's physical substance, am happy to pass on the next stage of the work to another generation. That I seek to enjoy a peaceful retirement in the knowledge that my place in history is assured.

I am happy to allow them this belief. I am happy to be rid of the whole business. The truth of the matter is that, whatever I put my mind to, it always returns to the memory of the gaze of those sapphire blue eyes within the glass.