By the end of his first day in hospital due to suspected phemonia, John couldn’t decide what was worse: the incessant flickering of the neon lightbulb directly over his bed, the screaming toddler who came to visit Mr Jackson and would not shut up for the entirety of the evening visit, or the constant drone of the TV, which was tuned in to a 24 hour news channel.
By the end of day three, there was a clear winner: the TV by a landslide. The light bulb had been fixed and blessedly the toddler had not shown his scrunched up wet sponge of a face since. The TV however, was there to stay. From 07:00 to 20:00 it played on a constant loop of the same depressing news from around the world, only occasionally adding content and only muted during afternoon and evening visits.
Despite his numerous protests for it to be turned down or put on a different channel, John had got nowhere with any of the nurses, particularly Nurse Beckett. She explained that it was the hospital’s policy to keep it on the news channel. In the past, they had relinquished control of the remote to the patients, but apparaently a consensus could never be reached, and it caused more trouble than it was worth.
As John waited for Nurse Beckett to usher out the last of the evening’s visitors, he looked around the room. It was like any other hospital ward, sterile and white, with three beds in line down each side creating a walkway down the middle. The floor cold laminate that caused shoes to clack and echo briskly off the surfaces. The TV took centre stage on the end wall, nestled between two windows that faced out onto a brick wall. The beds to either side of John were currently empty, but John remembered that they’d been someone in the one to his right briefly when he first arrived, and he’d introduced himself, but at John’s age he couldn’t remember what it was, his old noggin knowing that it was useless information as soon as the guy had told him he’d be going home that very day.
The beds directly across were fully occupied, and John knew their names because each patient was going nowhere anytime soon. Nearest the door was young Kevin, a teenager who had broken both legs doing a stunt for something called YouTube and Online Clout. He was very popular with visitors and this evening was no exception. Along with the two chairs that flanked each patient’s bed, Josh had so many visitors that the chairs from John’s side of the room had made their way over, and Josh had four visitors at each side of him, all looking happy and chattering away.
Directly opposite was Mr Jackson, who was in with heart murmurations, and was having his dodgy ticker monitored. Visiting him was his daughter Meridith. A fellow octogenarian, John enjoyed chatting with Mr Jackson, and each day over the sound of the TV they would take nostalgic trips down memory lane. This is how they found out they both had a passion for flying, and unlike John, Mr Jackson had been up in the air, both flying during the war and as a passenger on commercial airlines. John’s dreams of becoming a pilot were shot down during the medical due to his eyesight, and although he had always had an itch on the bottom of his foot for travelling, he had remained anchored ro
Last in line and closest to the damned TV was Frank, who was middle aged, liked to keep to himself and his crosswords. He had diabetes and was in due to high blood sugar levels and extreme dehydration.
Frank’s wife had just left.
Like clockwork, Nurse Beckett entered at 19:00 and made a beeline for the unmute button on the side of the TV, turned the dreaded loop of doom back on, and informed the room that visiting time was over before breezing out as quick as a flash, presumably to repeat this process in the other rooms on the ward.
Like clockwork, as soon as Nurse Beckett left, John got his aching bones out of bed and shuffled to the TV, his hand reaching with practised ease to the side of the TV where it found the mute button. He then shuffled back to his bed and carefully lowered himself back onto his bed.
Then he waited.
For Nurse Beckett.
In she breezed, then like a broken record, “What have I told you about the TV John? it needs to be on at all times, some people enjoy having something to watch.”
“It’s the same thing every cycle, nothing’s new, just the same old news over and over and over again,” John complained.
“Still, it needs to be kept on, hospital policy.”
She unmuted the TV and out she whisked.
John knew it was pointless to mute the TV straight away, for Nurse Beckett would be back in a minute to check. Better to wait ten minutes and then get up for his exercise.
And that is how John whittled his evenings away at the hospital. On the third evening he found himself staring intently at the mute button, clearly visible on a small protrusion to the right of the TV. There were four buttons in all, and by trial and error John had found out that the top one was the power, the next two were volume and the final one was mute.
For no reason at all other than boredom, and idle curiosity, John focused all his thoughts into pushing the mute button with his mind, willing it to move. Of course nothing happened, not until day nine.
—-----------
Day four held in store much the same as before, with the one exception of John trying to press the mute button with his mind. He found the experience almost hypnotic, and after an hour or more of extreme focus, he’d finally look away and break the spell. Later, he reflected that his attempts at telekenisis were quite soothing and helped to drown out the bothersome noise emitting from his nemesis.
On Day five he paused any attempts at moving things with his mind. Not because he’d given up on the idea, quite the opposite was true as John was a firm believer in the paranormal and believed that there was gifted individuals out there in the world who could do amazing things. It was Nurse Beckett’s day off, and Nurse Chloe either didn’t notice that John had muted the TV first thing or didn’t care.
Day six rolled around and Nurse Beckett rolled in with a face like thunder. It was clear that she’d not had a good day off, or was just miffed to be back at work, helping the needy and saving lives.
“Don’t you start with the TV today, John. I’m not in the mood,” she said.
John and Mr Jackson discussed it over breakfast and agreed that her boyfriend, that is if she had one, had probably left her due to being bossed around one too many times. Being in the latter stages of life and knowing that death could rear its ugly head at any time, John didn’t give two hoots about Nurse Beckett’s sensibilities and went to mute the TV as soon as she was out of the room.
He’d not even made it back to his bed before Nurse Beckett returned, storming into the room and looming over John, who stood at 6’1’’ when he joined the army, 5’9’’ at his last physical before retirement, and now in his cowering old man posture in bare feet he was barely pushing 5’6’’. Life had taken its toll on John, whereas he wouldn’t have been surprised if Nurse Beckett played netball to keep fit.
“For the last time John, Leave the TV alone!” She said in a professionally loud voice that was as close to shouting as you could get without technically shouting.
“All right, all right,” John muttered as he shied away from her and made his way into bed. Once there, he felt the eyes of his roommates staring at him from across the room. It felt like an intimate interview, with John sat in the interviewee’s seat, head lowered to avoid their glares, that he was sure he could almost feel in his periphery vision.
Suddenly, his head snapped up and to the right, like a natural reflex action, and he was staring at the mute button. Kevin, Mr Jackson, and Frank disappeared, so did Nurse What’s her name. All that mattered at that moment was the mute button, and how he longed to stare at it and will it to move. For the next three hours, John zoned out and focused all his might on moving the mute button, his dedication only broken by the occasion thought that he would be leaving Nurse Beckett’s torture chamber tomorrow; Dr Singh had been around earlier and told him his pneumonia had pretty much all clear.
During lunch, John found himself actually watching the news for the first time since his first day when it had all become a monotonous loop. There were three new news stories that he’d missed by being in training that morning. He’d try the same after lunch so hopefully he could actually enjoy watching the news while eating his dinner like most people.
After a dessert of apple pie and custard, which was absolutely delicious and went all against the stereotype of hospital food, John got down to business with the mute button, quickly zoning out and focusing his energy on mute button. Yes, that’s right, he thought to himself, my energy, it’s not my mind, it’s my energy that I’ve got to use.
Despite feeling like an epiphany, John didn’t know what to do with this newfound knowledge, so he continued stare at the mute button, willing it to move. At some point, probably around the three hour mark, his vision alerted and when he thought could see faint wisps of what appeared to be white smoke floating around the room, he knew it was time to take a break. His bladder also knew it was time to take a break and John suddenly became aware that he’d not been to the toilet since first thing that morning and he was full to burst. He clambered out of bed, out into the main hallway, and along the corridor to the toilets on the right. He tried the first door and it was locked, then made his way to the second, which was thankfully open. He quickly made his way in and closed the door, and just managed to lower his hospital gown before he couldn’t hold it anymore, still a good metre away from the toilet. Thinking better late than never, he waddled as quickly as he could to the toilet and about half of his pee got to its intended destination.
Ten minutes later, John thoroughly washed his hands and then splashed cold water on his face, before returning to another round of fun and games on the ward. It was on his way back that he noticed a lack of noise as he passed one of the other hospital rooms. There were five rooms between the toilets and John’s. As he walked by the first two he heard the unimstakable jingle of the international news station, one that John hated with a passion and would be happy to never hear again in his life. But the third room was silent, except for the faint sound of muted chatter coming from within. John backed up and poked his head in.
In this room, he was shocked to see that the TV was turned off.
“Hello there. I’m sorry to interrupt but I was just wondering if you manage to keep the TV off when Nurse Beckett does her rounds?” John asked.
“Yeah, we only put it on when we want. No way we’re having her boss us around.” A young lad said.
“Keep quiet, Foz,” said a gentleman in his 50 who was sitting crossed legged on his bed. “What you have to do my friend, is get everyone in your room on your side, that way you just take it in turns. If she turns it on, one of us stands up and turns it off. Then if she turns it on again, another one of us gets up and turns it off. She can’t stand there guarding it all day so she pretty much gave up and leaves us to it now.”
“I see. There is strength in numbers, good to know. Thanks for your help, I’m John by the way,” he said as he entered the room fully to shake the man’s hand.
“Bob, pleased to meet you.”
At that very moment, Nurse Beckett walked into the room.
“And what do you think you are doing in the wrong room John? Did you get lost? Forget your way back your your bed?”
“No, nothing like that Nurse Beckett. I was just chatting with my friends here about what they like to watch on TV.”
“Never you mind, let’s get you back to your own room.”
“That’s fine, I’ll go back when I’m good and ready, thank you.”
Nurse Beckett left and John shortly followed. When he got back to his room he considered asking the others to form an alliance with him, but decided to wait and see first. He went over and turned the sound off, then got in bed and got to staring at the mute button. At some point he thought he felt Nurse Beckett’s presence once or twice, but he wasn’t sure, nor did he care. He was too absorb in trying to make the impossible possible, whittling the precious hours that he had left on this earth stuck in a hospital room with a demon for a prison guard.
He stayed in his meditative-like state when he sensed that visiting hours were about to start, and would have happily whiled the rest of the day away that way if Nurse Beckett hadn’t come in and turned the sound on, thus breaking four hours of uninterrupted focus from John.
“Visiting time in ten minutes gentlemen. Get yourselves presentable.”
John sat exhausted, looking around the room as though seeing it for the first time. He noticed a faint smoky texture to the air again and questioned both his eyesight and fleetingly his sanity.
Just then, Mr Jackson’s daughter appeared along with his screaming grandson. John took this as I sign that he needed some fresh air. As he was walking out he realised that his behaviour must seem strange to his fellow patients. Then again, what else did most old people do who had been used to their own company for one too many years except sit and stare into the abyss, waiting for it to come and finally claim you.
He made his way to the area that pretended to be a garden and despite the weather being what he would consider as bracing, he found himself sitting and staring at a bush, his thoughts equally shared by life and death. He’d first seriously considered suicide three days after his beloved Dorothy died ten months ago, when his mourning had been at its most horrible and darkest. It was only his sons that kept him on this earth. But then they left shortly after the funeral, his eldest Michael back to Canada and his youngest Caleb back to Australia. Then he was truly alone for the first time, and life had not been the same. No, life had not been life at all, it was just a smudge of its former self, a struggle to get out of bed or see the point or even bother kind of existence. Waiting one more day, and paradoxically each day it hurt a little less, running from the pain of grief into the jaws of death.
Both sons had offered their homes to him, but he was too old then to travel and too old now for sure. The days of adventures were long behind him, but as he sat there he thought of a few and they made him smile, one even made him chuckle out loud then look around to see if anyone had heard.
Once again, he shook himself out of it, stopped staring into space and made his way back inside. Kevin had a new group of friends around him, Mr Jackson’s daughter and terrible toddler had gone, as had Frank’s wife, as evidenced by the appearance of a fancy box of chocolates, a new book of crosswords, and the day’s papers.
Once Kevin’s friends had left, John wasted no time and got down to business.
“Okay fellows, listen in before Nurse Beckett returns to crack the whip. If we all band together and keep the TV off until when we want it on, she won’t be able to stop us. All we have to do is stick together and take it in turns to switch the TV back off whenever she turns it off. She can’t be turning it off all day, she’s got work to do. What do you say?”
“I don’t know, it doesn’t even bother me. It’s not that loud.” Kevin said.
“Let’s try it gentlemen, there’s strength in numbers. Let’s stick together. I implore you.”
“Okay, implore away. I’ll give it a go.” Kevin said then stood up and turned the TV off.
Mr Jackson spoke up. “I’ll go next, then Frank if that’s okay with him, and then over to you John. How does that sound?”
“It sounds like a plan to me. An excellent plan.”
They got down to business and an hour later both Mr Jackson and Frank had made the pilgrimage to turn the TV off. John had put a little more time and effort into his nonexistent telekenisis skills. The TV was currently off and John was looking forward to Nurse Beckett returning so that he could step up to the plate and turn the TV off as soon as she was out of the room. He could see that it was really pushing her buttons and he took a certain glee from the fact.
She made her entrance, saw that the TV was off, turned it back on then made her way around each patient’s bed doing her duties, which appeared to be mainly checking charts, taking temperatures, and throwing the occasional dagger John’s way. Once she got to John she let him have a piece of her mind.
“John, for the last time you’ve got to stop this ridiculous escapade with the television. If you carry on jumping in and out of bed you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“That’s okay, and thanks for your concern but you do not have to worry. I have some friends who can assist me, isn’t that right gentlemen.”
Nurse Beckett looked across the room to see three faces, each plastered with a confident smirk. She saw that she was beaten and left.
John got out of bed thinking how good it was to see Nurse Beckett wound up so. This thought was quickly replaced by that’s cold then oh crumbs! then time to realise what was happening finally that hurts and then sleep.
John woke up a couple of minutes later nursing what felt like two broken arms. He remembered slipping on some water when he stood up and putting his hands out to cushion his fall. He was dazed, but looking on the bright side, he was in a hospital so he was in the right place. He was quickly given some painkillers and taken to be x-rayed, and told he’d need surgery on one of his wrists to pin the bones back in place.
The only problem was that John would have to be put under local anasthetic, and at his age there was always a risk that the patient would not make it through the operation.
Today was as good a day to die as any, so John signed his life away and he remembered counting backwards from ten and getting to four before everything went dark.
Then he was staring at the ceiling of the operating theatre, but only briefly and with his eyes closed. It was unlike any vision he had experienced before, as though he was looking through a fisheye lens that captured a whole 180 degrees with perfect clarity. And it was as though he was viewing the world from slightly above his head, his view changing to and fro slightly as though he were on top of a flower sitting in a gentle breeze. He found that he could move his vision and ever so slowly he leaned forward to see that he was dead and Doctor Singh was performing CPR on his lifeless corpse.
Everything went dark.
For the longest time it was dark and then he was awake, propped up in bed, opposite Kevin and Mr Jackson and Frank.
It was late evening. He woke up he knew something was wrong. No, wrong was the incorrect word. Things were different. Not wrong but different. The world had taken on a different hue, and there was more texture, and immense amount of texture to the very fabric of reality that he could clearly see. He’d never known, but with his new outlook on life, everything, and everyone, had a colour. Kevin was a pulsating orange, Mr Jackson, a cool blue. Frank was a sad colour that neither red nor brown would claim and John himself, he was a blinding mint green.
Mr Jackson spoke to him but what he said sounded like it was travelling through soup, and he could not decipher what he was saying. He noticed Kevin move his head slightly, leaving a small trail of orange mist in the air where his forehead once was. Looking at his forehead, he saw in more detail the essence of Kevin’s orangeness. It was like looking through a hall of mirrors, or looking out of the car as you pass row after row of evenly spaced trees, one minute it was there and the next it was not. John reclined his head back onto his pillow, feeling truly exhausted, and raised his eyes to look above his forehead. There was the essence of his greeness, an ephemeral column of swirling smoke emanating from his forehead. My Third Eye he thought to himself. Then he closed his eyes and giggled to himself. It must be the drugs. The anasthetic is making me hallucinate, and I’m recovering from major surgery. He vaguely heard Doctor Singh calling his name before it all got a little too much for him to comprehend at one time and he went to sleep again.
He woke up and it was afternoon. He was on drip and still seeing the world through keliodoscopic lenses. Before he could adjust himself in bed and look around, he heard the jarring tones of Nurse Beckett calling out, “Doctor Singh, the patient is awake.” followed by the sound of her receding footsteps. By the time his eyes had adjusted all that was left of Nurse Beckett was an ugly black trail, which seemed to have an almost lifelike quality as it floated through the air and slowly followed her out of the room. John rubbed his eyes, both in disbelief and out of pure habit, as it was what one did when one woke up.
The last traces of Nurse Beckett were displaced as Doctor Singh entered, pure yellow in nature, pure yellow within. At was as though John was wearing a selective filter, one that changed and distorted the colours he now associated with each person. They’re Their Auras John thought to himself.
“How are you feeling, John?” Dr Singh asked as he stood at the foot of the bed.
John got straight to the chase, despite being distracted by the smoky protrusion faintly visible on the centre of Dr Singh’s forehead. For a split second the question on his mind changed and he almost found his tongue receiving a different signal, one telling him to ask Am I dead? He paused, then cleared his throat and asked, “Did I die?”
Dr Singh looked taken aback and didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he played with the cuff of his gown then picked up the clipboard chat from its holder at the foot of the bed and pretended to survey it, before putting it back and walking closer to John.
“Technically yes, you did. What made you ask? How did you know?”
“It was just a feeling that I had, that’s all.” John was about to tell Dr Singh about his altered vision but decided against it for some reason he could not explain. Instead, he asked for specifics. “What happened and how long was I gone for?”
“It was your heart. It stopped beating for three minutes.”
John said nothing as he took in the news. Despite knowing already, it was still a shock to the system, a system that was slowly and finally shutting down. First the pneumonia, then the broken hands and now a heart attack to throw into the mix. He guessed that the shock did not stem from the news that he had died, but rather the confirmation of an outerbody experience, and that he had indeed looked down at his corpse through his thirdeye, which he felt was connected to what is commonly referred to as one’s soul.
It suddenly dawned on him that there was life after death. We lived on someway or somehow, the essence of who we were flimsy and ephemeral, invisible to the naked eye. It was a lot to digest in his fragile state and he felt it start to overwhelm him. He needed to be alone. No, that wasn’t it. He found that if he was honest with himself, what he wanted to do more than anything in the world right now was focus on the mute button.
“Thank you for saving my life. I’d like to rest now, thank you doctor.”
“That’s quite all right, all part of the job. We’ll be keeping you monitored. You’re in the best place.”
John repositioned himself so that he was more comfortable then homed in on the mute button. He was immediately at ease and slipped into what had now become a regular pattern for him. Almost immediately, he sensed that his own third eye was expanding and becoming elongated as it stretched towards the button. The temptation to look at it was too much for John and he broke away his gaze from the mute button. As soon as he did, his thirdeye, which was about halfway across the room, retracted all the way back to its original position, just in view at the top of his forehead.
With renewed vigour, John refocussed on the mute button. Eventually, after an unknown time had elapsed, John saw the flimsy tendrils of his thirdeye reach the mute button. He tried to ignore them, but it was too much of a distraction and no sooner had they appeared than they vanished from John’s immediate focal point. Undeterred, John focussed more on the mute button and this time when his third eye made its appearance, he ignored it.
What could have been 5 minutes or 50 minutes later, it was clear to John that the presence of his thirdeye around the mute button had increased significantly. Still focussing on the button, John added a new objective to his training, a mantra that he was confident would work. He inhaled slowly, all the while thinking Build up, then as soon as he started to exhale he thought Press it.
Build up, Press it, Build up, Press it, Build up, Press it over and over and over again.
Until it was time for afternoon visits, and Nurse Beckett came in and pressed the mute button, displacing a large mint green cloud half the size of the TV.
—--------------------
For the first time there were no visitors for Kevin, or anyone else for that matter, and the room was unusually quiet for once, except for the ever so faint sound of music coming from Kevin’s headphones. The song ended and Kevin took them off.
“I hope this doesn’t come across as rude but do either of you have a bucket list?” Kevin asked.
“I’m sorry young man. I’m not familiar with that term,” John replied.
“It’s a list of things that you want to do before you die,” Mr Jackson explained.
“I’m not sure, and no, that’s not rude so do not worry yourself. It’s actually a very interesting question. Do you have one, Kevin?” John asked.
“Sure, I wanna visit every continent, swim with dolphins, go viral, become a famous YouTuber.”
“I don’t follow…” John interuppted.
“YouTube,” helped Mr Jackson, who despite his age seemed to be up on all the current trends. “It’s a page on the Internet and you can watch videos of anything you like, as long as it’s not saucy, they’ve got other pages for that, anything you like.”
“And a YouTuber,” Kevin continued, “is someone who makes content, sorry videos, they make videos doing things to get views, it’s all about building up your audience and increasing your subscibers.”
“I see,” said John, who clearly didn’t.
“I’d like to jump out of a plane. I’ve been fortunate enough to never needed to, but I’d like to know the feeling of doing it for fun. And safely!” Mr Jackson shared. “What about you John.”
John thought about it for a moment. Well, he pretended to think about it for a moment because really he didn’t have to think. He knew the answer before Mr Jackson had finished answering the question. He’d known since he was a young boy and stumbled across a book about space in the local library. Ever since that day he’d wanted to be an astronaut, and in close second place was become a pilot.
“Go into space or fly a plane.”
“Why not both?”
“Why not both?”
“Thanks John,” said Kevin. “I’m gonna add space to my list. That would make a great video. I’d get millions of views for sure.”
Just then, Nurse Beckett came in and without saying a word she just spoilt the fun, brought the mood in the room down a notch.
—---------------------
After a nap, John reassessed his attempts at telekenesis and came to the conclusion that he should not focus on the object but rather the tool. He supposed that if he could control his own smoky protrusion, he might be able to channel his energy rather than having it collect in a flimsy cloud. He looked up a far as he could, his thirdeye barely visible and blurrily out of focus and tried to grab and hook it. Try as he might, it just wasn’t possible. He relaxed and turned his attention to the TV, time to catch up on some news. It was during the second news segment that John noticed that his thirdeye was now clearly visible, almost like it had woken up and finally done its stretches.
John wasted no time and focussed in on the end of his thirdeye. After some trial and error, he was able to make it move in any direction. He was also able to make it get slowly longer and quickly smaller, but he could not combine the two movements to enable true fluid movement.
He took a break and returned to watching the news. When he was ready to start again, he noticed that there was a wispy tendril floating across the entrance to the room, like a ribbon ready to be cut to celebrate the opening of a new building or the finish line at the end of a grueling race. John saw the hospital in that wispy tentril, for it was a place in which new life blossomed and and old life fizzled. In some bright corner of the sprawling hospital there was a maternity ward and life ready to come into this world, just as sure as there was death waiting around the corner of every other ward.
With a little practice, and a brief break when all four patients had a chat about ideal jobs, John was able to move his thirdeye in any direction. He aimed for tendril across the entrance, which still had not been broken due to lack of traffic to and from the room. Once his thirdeye reached the tendril, he held it in position and focussed all his energy and willpower into the end of his thirdeye. He quickly noticed the intensity of mint green at the end increase, steadily intensifying in radiance until it started to hurt John’s eyes looking at it. Thinking that it was now or never, John willed his thirdeye to break through the tendril.
Upon impact, John felt like he had hit a brickwall, and his thirdeye lay propped up by the tendril. However, he purservered and after some time he felt their was some strength in mind, some power behind his thoughts. He scrunched up his face in fierce intensity, causing Mr Jackson to look at him worryingly (and not for the first time since John had taken it upon himself to start staring into thin air). With all his efforts, and with what felt like the strength of a dandilion seed floating in the breeze, he cut through the tendril, causing it to slowly dissolve and disappear into the ether.
Content, but exhausted, John relaxed deeper into his pillow and let his body recuperate.
Since breaking his arms, Nurse Beckett had been in a relatively good mood. The TV remained on, and it appeared to John that it was a suggestion louder than it had been previously. Now that their leader and commander was out of action, Mr Jackson and Frank had stopped bothering with the mute and just like John, they could often be found staring, but for different reasons.
Thankfully, Nurse Beckett had refrained from rubbing salt in the wounds. That is, until later day after evening visits were over.
“It is such a shame that you can no longer use your hands to turn the volume off isn’t it. Such a silly man jumping in and out of bed like that. No wonder you had an accident it was bound to happen.”
John was seething inside. He was almost certain that he had not knocked his water over and that only left one of the other nurses or Nurse Beckett, and had he been a betting man, his money would have been on Nurse Beckett. Outside, he remained calm and composed. He bit his tongue and found himself staring at the mute button refueled and ready to make miracles happen.
John quickly got his thirdeye all the way to the TV and built up a strong radiance at the end. He then slowed his breathing and took up the old mantra Build up, Press it.
At some point Nurse Beckett left.
At some point, he switched up the mantra to Press it, Build it and unbeknown to him, he started to breathe faster and faster, all the while focusing so intently on the mute button and the end of his thirdeye that was firmly pressed to it.
Next, his heart rate started to steadily increase, trying to keep up with the breathing. But John was not aware of this, or anything else in the world. There was his thirdeye and the mute button, a surge of mint green in a vacuum of black nothingness.
Finally, something told John to switch up the mantra, make things easier, there was only one thing left to do:
Press it, Press it, Press it, Press it.
Over and over, faster and faster, focussed on one sole goal.
The TV went quiet.
John stopped, staring at the TV screen in disbelief. And then he had another heart attack.
—-------------------------------
“You’ve suffered another heart attack and then a stroke.” were the first words John heard when he came around. He was propped up in bed in a different room, one all to himself and found himself surrounded by complicated machinery and Dr Singh at the foot of the bed. The first thing he noticed was that the intensity of Dr Singh’s aura had increased, or more precisely, John’s ability to perceive had increased.
“Don’t try to move. You’re left side is paralysed and it’s best if you just stay where you are.”
John tried to raise his left arm and found that he could not move it a millimetre. He tried wriggling his fingers, willing them to move as he stared at them poking out of the plaster cast. He moved down to his foot and then his toes before reaching the same conclusion as the doctor.
John looked back at the doctor and spoke the truth, “I’m not leaving this hospital alive, am I?”
Then tears began to flow freely from under John’s right eyelids, the left tear duct remained dry, no longer able to receive any sad news.
“We will look after you until you’re hands are healed and then we’ll be able to find you a nice nursing home with lots of new friends to make.”
John tuned out to what Dr Singh was saying. The door to his private room was open and he could see and hear a TV on in the hallway, playing the news as per usual. John tested to see if he could still control his thirdeye, and found that it was slightly less difficult then before. He felt more in control than ever before and for the first time could almost physically feel the presence or the essence of his thirdeye, like a coil in his mind.
He honed in on the power button and pushed with all his might. This was all he had left, and for all he knew, it might kill him. Still, he proceeded on to try and push the power button.
“JOHN!” Dr Singh shouted, bringing John back down to earth. He turned his head back to face Dr Singh.
Then John opened his one remaining good eye for the first time since his stroke.
It was as though the dial had been turned up to 1000%, there was texture upon texture, refractions and reflections, clear cracks in the fabric of reality, all beautifully interwoven and connected by an explosion of different colours, some times solid and clearly definable, other times mixed like a watery rainbow.
There in the centre was Dr Singh, a burning yellow a hundred times brighter than the sun.
It was too much for one eye to behold and John was thankful that he only had one working as he quickly closed his eye and squinted it firmly closed.
“Don’t worry. You’re eye will get used to having to work independently. Would you like me to get you some sunglasses?”
John was amazed that he could still see Dr Singh, as clear as day. He held up his hand to right eye but couldn’t see anything, then realising his mistake, he raised his hand a bit so that it was positioned in front of his forehead. It was like looking at his hand through a magnifying glass, each liverspot and wrinkle clearly visible. John needed to be alone.
“Can I be alone doctor?”
“Yes, of course. We’ll be monitoring you and the nurse is nearby so rest assured.”
Dr Singh left, leaving the door open. After a minute. John slowly unsquinted his right eye so that it let in the smallest suggestion of light. He waited for his eye to adjust and then opened it some more. Over the course of an hour he managed his eye all the way, and each time he opened his eye a little wider what he beheld became more beautiful.
He looked towards the door and began to focus on the power button, his thirdeye quickly finding its target. He was supremely confident that he was milliseconds away from performing telekinisis for the second time when someone walked past the door, an aura of deep purple, that was both soothing on the eye but blinding due to the unexpected intensity. It caused him to snap his eye shut, leaving only the third eye on duty, weakened without the right eye to back it up.
He forgot about the TV for the time being and focused on his useless left arm. He was just about to life it in the air for the first time when Kevin walked through the door.
“I just wanted to come and say that I’m sorry. It was all my fault.”
“Come in Kevin, take a seat.”
“It was a stupid prank and I wish that I didn’t do it.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m an old man with not many sunrises left to witness. This is what happens when time takes its toll on the body.”
“You don’t understand. I pranked you. It’s all my fault.”
“Trust me son, I did it to myself. I was off in my own little world and worked myself up into a bit of a pickle, that’s all.”
“I know, I’ve got it all on video. I know what you were trying to do John, you were trying to mute the TV with your mind, weren’t you?”
“Yes, and it worked, I’ve got control of my thirdeye now and can control things with my mind.”
“I’m sorry John, I controlled the TV with this,” Kevin said as he held up his left hand to show the remote control he was holding. “It’s a remote control that I’m holding up. I did it for YouTube views. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna upload it. In fact, I’m going to delete it right now.”
“Wait, can I watch the video?” John asked.
“Sure, but you’ll have to open your eyes.”
John had forgotten about his ability to see the world through his third eye. It had become natural to him, as though he’d been looking at the world this way his whole life. “Can you come back and show me in a little while. I’d like to rest for twenty minutes.”
“Sure, I’ll be back in twenty, and then I can delete it.”
As soon as Kevin had left, John opened his eye and focussed on his limp left arm. He refused to believe that he had not turned off the TV and there was only one way to prove it. As quick as electricity, his left arm shot up in the air and hung there for several seconds, his hand hanging limply at the end, before John closed the right half of his gaping mouth and came to his senses. He would have to be more discreet with his newfound power.
He dropped his hand just in time, for not two seconds later Dr Singh returned with some sunglasses. John tried them on and once Dr Singh had left, he opened his eye and found the sunglasses completely ineffective against combating the sensory overload that John’s world had now become. He kept them on though, thinking that they would be handing in concealing the fact that he could now see with his eyes closed.
He went back to the TV in the hallway, and quickly turned it off. John then tried closing the door and found it surprisingly easy. With the door closed, and like a kid in a sweet shop, he started working his way around the room, picking up each piece of furniture, before moving on to the heavy looking electrical equipment, then finally his bed, with him still in it.
All without breaking a sweat, physically or mentally.
He was about to try and lift himself when there was a knock on the door before Kevin entered.
“Let’s see my death scene then, if you please.”
Kevin held the phone up close to John’s now sunglasses adorned face and John had to move the phone back a little and up so that his third eye could see. He could see himself staring intently at the TV screen, as though it’s the world’s most interesting movie, then slowly his body started to move in rhythm, his movement steadily increasing. This went on for two whole minutes before he had built himself into a frenzy and was practically vibrating. Then a hand comes into focus from the left and it’s holding a remote control and it hits the unmute button and a second later John is collapsed on his bed and the cameraman fumbles before ending the video.
John was angry with Kevin for all but a millisecond before being catapulted back to his own youth and memories of being a teenage boy. Instead of the expected harsh words and reprimands, John smiled at Kevin and said, “Don’t you worry about that. You can upload your video if you want. You have my permission. I can see the funny side of it. In fact, take a picture of me now if you like and you can let your likers know that I’m still alive and kicking.
Kevin got his phone ready and John smiled as best as he could with half a mouth. He raised his right hand in a thumbs up gesture, then after a moment’s thought opened his actual eye a little and manipulated his left hand in the same gesture, hoping that Kevin didn’t know he’d had a stroke, and if he did, he hoped he wasn’t clued up on the injuries it left you with.
Kevin took the photo and then showed it to John, who studied his left arm. It was a stupid thing to do, but he had one foot in the grave so what was the worst that they could do? Plus, from his own inspection, it looked fairly natural and it was only upon closer inspection that anyone would realise that the left arm and hand didn’t look quite right.
“Looks good to me,” John said. “Come back later on and let me know how many people watch it, I’d be interested to know.”
“Will do, see ya later, John. And sorry, again!”
“Not at all, not at all.”
John closed the door then opened his eye fully and thought about what he could do with the time that he had left and new power he had tapped into. His first thought went to Nurse Beckett. Gone were the days when she held dominion over the TV, or any other electrical device for that matter. If it had a switch or a button, as soon as she turned it one way, he could be their turning it another.
He looked down at his poor hands and was reminded of the suspected source of his initial injury. If he could get her to stand still for a minute, would he be able to tie her laces? He felt confident that he could do it with ease and wondered why this might be. He came to the conclusion that the stroke was the initial catalyst, and that now half of his brain wasn’t focused on operating his body, it was now working full time on the thirdeye.
He fleetingly thought of a life of lifting nurses’ skirts as they passed by as he lay a prisoner in his bed, seeing new inmates come and go until his light expired. No, there was only one thing to do. He was going to go viral.
By the time Kevin returned, John had successfully lifted his entire body out of bed five times and was confident that his plan would work.
“The video’s only got seven views, and they’re slating me in the comments section. I’ve had to pause the video. I don’t think it’s that funny anymore.”
“Don’t you worry about that son. I’ve got an idea that’ll make you go viral.”
“Really, what is it?” Kevin asked in his most sincere voice, trying to sound honest whilst merely humouring John.
“I’ll show you,” John said before closing the door and then floating Kevin’s cap off his head until it landed on his own. Kevin stood still as a statue, frozen in shock. John noticed Kevin’s mouth agape, so gently closed it for him, which did the trick and freed Kevin from his initial shock.
“What the —?”
“Keep your voice down. It’s pretty obvious isn’t it? I can move things with my mind.”
“Do it again, move that magazine.”
“Here you go.” and the magazine flew from the table and Kevin caught it into his chest.
“I don’t believe this.”
“Listen, I need you to do me a favour, get me a few things and then meet me later. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, sure.”
“Great, and be sure not to tell anyone.”
It was later that night, technically a new day. John’s last day in the hospital. He had made Kevin go back down. At first he had been reluctant, but then John took a leap of faith with his understanding of technology and suggested that Kevin could go downstairs and watch the livefeed video on his bigger smart phone, which was actually a tablet.
John took his time, waiting patiently as promised, until he was sure the boy was back on the ward in their room. He owed him that much for assisting in the theft of hospital property and helping to prepare John for what he was about to do.
Kevin had found some sheeting early on when looking for the things that John required, and although they were not on the list, he improvised and tucked them under his arm before moving on to see what was behind the next unlocked door. He miraculously avoided bumping into any hospital staff or opening a door and catching someone by surprise. He opened up the ninth door to find the first item on his list; hospital clothing and robes. He exchanged the sheets for his new find and made his way back to the room to stash the clothing.
The rope had been impossible to find, but his friend was happy to pop by a hardware store and bring it for Kevin.
As for the oxygen cylinder, it had been impossible to find and he’d returned later that night to give John the bad news. Thankfully, John was an eighty year old man with two heart attacks under his belt, plus a stroke and two broken hands. He simply called the nurse on duty and told her that he was feeling faint and would like some oxygen. Three minutes later it was wheeled in and after the nurse administered it to John, she left it in the room.
John had floated the cylinder over to the right side of his bed and placed it standing gently on the floor, then tried to lift it.
“Kevin, come lift this. Tell me if it’s heavy.”
“Yeah, it’s heavy,” Kevin had reassured.
He owed it to Kevin because he’d waited until late at night when he should’ve been in bed recuperating, and had help him put on the clothes and secure the oxygen mask.
Ten minutes or more had past now. More than enough time, and John was more than ready. He checked that the phone was still firmly attached to the top of the oxygen tank, double checked that the oxygen tank was securely tied around his back and going nowhere, then secured the oxygen mask over his mouth. He checked he could easily turn the dial to the oxygen tank using his third eye and then he flew off the roof of the hospital, in the direction of the moon that appeared to be rising over the west.