EYE SIGHT

"Mr. Ridley, Mr. Ridley, Jeremy Ridley,"

The blond young man in dark glasses doesn't react immediately to the call, absorbed by the commercial on the screen in front of him, which he barely stares at.

"In the US, no crime goes unpunished, let alone a crime against your family, loved ones, or yourself. Yes, justice has a price, but a price that fits your needs and your means. That's why... "

"Yes, sorry," the young man gasps, turning to the female voice. He guesses that the woman is middle-aged and a little overweight. He lets himself be guided by a firm, chubby arm.

Jeremy hears fingers typing away, people moving on their chair, followed by two men's footsteps. They stop to stare at him with great interest from a short distance for a moment.

"Good morning," Jeremy says confidently.

One of the two doctors comes forward, rolling a chair in front of him before stopping opposite Jeremy:

"Good morning, Jeremy! Sit down, and take off your glasses, please," he says.

Jeremy grips the chair with one hand to take a seat, then he removes his glasses while the two men still scrutinise him like a work of art. The other doctor comes closer also. Both men are ecstatic over what they see. A minute passes. One sighs, the other rubs his hands. Finally, he addresses Jeremy again:

"It happened to you very young, didn't it?" The first man says.

"I was five years-old, one of the doors was left open. My mother found me unconscious outside."

"And the burns to your face, chest, or arm?" The other man questions.

"I had several reconstruction surgeries, there are no scares, at least from what I'm told."

"No, there isn't; your skin looks flawless."

"I still have scars on my back though, my mother could no longer pay for the treatment."

"Don't worry Mr Ridley, in a few weeks' time, you'll bless the day that did this to you."

A few hours later, Jeremy comes out of the clinic smiling. After his discussion with the doctors, he already feels like a new man. He begins to weave through the crowd of pedestrians around him with confidence when he hears Malik's voice calling out from behind him.

"So, how did it go?" The young man asks impatiently.

"Great. They made me undergo a whole series of tests of all kinds, which I obviously passed," Jeremy says proudly, still smiling, his head slightly tilted towards the ground.

"As humble as always," Malik says, patting his friend on the shoulder before adding with a knowing grin: "What will it be like when you've regained your sight?"

"You'll see, unless I make a new group of friends!" Jeremy retorts, laughing, his head still tilted towards the ground.

"Very funny!" Malik replies sarcastically. "They say it's a company of posh people. Their agents are all children of well-off members of the society, very high-ranking, like kids of ministers, future members of the world assembly... you get the picture..." the young man adds more seriously.

"Yeah, that's to say, not my type at all!" Jeremy said seriously. He stops for a moment to turn to Malik to continue, smiling:

"Being able to see again won't change who I am, neither in my eyes nor in the eyes of the rest of the world, you and I know that. No one from the ancestral people ends up in the world assembly unless they're the remote-controlled puppet of the right-thinking elite."

"And Jeremy Ridley will never be anything like a remote-controlled puppet!" Malik exclaims, smiling proudly at his friend, then his gaze darkens for a split second as a breeze of doubt crosses his mind. The young man knows from experience that the tentacles of society have managed to suffocate many, forcing them to accept the unacceptable: denying their potential for fear of going against conventions.

"And if I ever forget, I'm counting on you to remind me, OK?" Jeremy says seriously with a smirk as if he has sensed his best friend's fears.

"Okay," Malik replies, smiling. The latter immediately turns around to continue walking guided by his cane and the presence of Malik by his side.