dragon!â Ulysses whispered. âAvert your gaze, man, before it sees you looking! Do you want to die?â
Ethan yanked his eyes away. He focused on Ulysses. âNow look,â he said, shaken. âI agree there are pictures, with astonishing realism; itâs as if this entire hospital ward is just a glass shell, through which we can see a fantastic larger world. But thatâs all it is, of course: just a pattern of pictures. Pictures canât harm anyone. So why not appreciate them?â
âI can do so,â Ulysses said. âBecause Iâm certified crazy, and no one believes me. But you must not, because youâre sane. Now I see I should never have spoken to you, never have told you the truth. I thought you were too ignorantly self-assured to see, but I misjudged you. For your own safety, for your very life, shut it out, man, shut it out!â
Ethan still did not believe in any invisible dragons. But the extent of the revelation that the picture of Jesus had brought him shook his very nature. Ulysses had been right about Jesus, and right about the hidden larger world beyond the normal one, at least in appearance. Suppose he were right about the rest?
âOf course itâs just an optical illusion,â Ethan said. âI tried to empathize with you, to see what you see, and I succeeded. But the difference between us is that I know itâs not real.â
âYes, yes!â he agreed. âHang on to that! Donât look at it any more. Look for the stains, the cracks, the meaningless randomness beyond the limited world. Know that I am crazy, and you donât want to be that way. Go away from me; when you return, I wonât talk to you at all, so youâll know it was just your idle fancy that I had a lucid moment. Donât put your death on my conscience.â
âBut you know I canât pretend that you werenât lucid!â he said. âI may disagree with your vision, but certainly you can talk. You donât have to pretendââ
But he saw that the manâs gaze had wandered. Ulysses was now staring at the wall again, ignoring him.
âHey, donât do that!â Ethan exclaimed.
Ulysses glanced at him. His eyes were unfocussed, and a bit of drool was starting down his chin. He was playing the idiot.
Disgusted, Ethan turned away. But still he saw the larger world. It had been a job to fathom it, but once he had done so, he couldnât un-fathom it, any more than he could forget how to ride a bike once he had learned.
Well, he would do something about this. He would go fetch a supervisor, and show him the picture of Jesus. He would get others to see the larger world. Then Ulysses would have to talk to them, and whatever truth there was behind this vision would emerge.
He turned the corner to enter the wing of the ward where the phone was.
There, beside the phone, was the dragon.
Note: As I recall, in 1991 I was asked to contribute a story to a prospective anthology, so I wrote âA Picture of Jesus,â based on an experience I had had, trying to see Jesus in an obscure picture. I looked at it every day, and after about six months finally saw Jesus. I guess a religious person can do it much faster. My wife, the daughter of a minister, saw it faster, I think. Everything I experience is grist for my imagination: suppose the ability to see something in such a picture were an avenue to a larger perception, perhaps with danger? So I merged the notion with my long-ago experience as an aide in a mental hospital, describing the patients I actually knew, and wrote the story.
Time passed, and the anthology did not find a publisher. So when I had a request from another publisher, I gave them this one, and it was published in Science Fiction Age, July 1993. Now, twenty years later, it should be safe to share it with you without getting caught by a dragon. But if you see that picture, donât push your luck.
Caution: personal
Ethan yanked his eyes away. He focused on Ulysses. âNow look,â he said, shaken. âI agree there are pictures, with astonishing realism; itâs as if this entire hospital ward is just a glass shell, through which we can see a fantastic larger world. But thatâs all it is, of course: just a pattern of pictures. Pictures canât harm anyone. So why not appreciate them?â
âI can do so,â Ulysses said. âBecause Iâm certified crazy, and no one believes me. But you must not, because youâre sane. Now I see I should never have spoken to you, never have told you the truth. I thought you were too ignorantly self-assured to see, but I misjudged you. For your own safety, for your very life, shut it out, man, shut it out!â
Ethan still did not believe in any invisible dragons. But the extent of the revelation that the picture of Jesus had brought him shook his very nature. Ulysses had been right about Jesus, and right about the hidden larger world beyond the normal one, at least in appearance. Suppose he were right about the rest?
âOf course itâs just an optical illusion,â Ethan said. âI tried to empathize with you, to see what you see, and I succeeded. But the difference between us is that I know itâs not real.â
âYes, yes!â he agreed. âHang on to that! Donât look at it any more. Look for the stains, the cracks, the meaningless randomness beyond the limited world. Know that I am crazy, and you donât want to be that way. Go away from me; when you return, I wonât talk to you at all, so youâll know it was just your idle fancy that I had a lucid moment. Donât put your death on my conscience.â
âBut you know I canât pretend that you werenât lucid!â he said. âI may disagree with your vision, but certainly you can talk. You donât have to pretendââ
But he saw that the manâs gaze had wandered. Ulysses was now staring at the wall again, ignoring him.
âHey, donât do that!â Ethan exclaimed.
Ulysses glanced at him. His eyes were unfocussed, and a bit of drool was starting down his chin. He was playing the idiot.
Disgusted, Ethan turned away. But still he saw the larger world. It had been a job to fathom it, but once he had done so, he couldnât un-fathom it, any more than he could forget how to ride a bike once he had learned.
Well, he would do something about this. He would go fetch a supervisor, and show him the picture of Jesus. He would get others to see the larger world. Then Ulysses would have to talk to them, and whatever truth there was behind this vision would emerge.
He turned the corner to enter the wing of the ward where the phone was.
There, beside the phone, was the dragon.
Note: As I recall, in 1991 I was asked to contribute a story to a prospective anthology, so I wrote âA Picture of Jesus,â based on an experience I had had, trying to see Jesus in an obscure picture. I looked at it every day, and after about six months finally saw Jesus. I guess a religious person can do it much faster. My wife, the daughter of a minister, saw it faster, I think. Everything I experience is grist for my imagination: suppose the ability to see something in such a picture were an avenue to a larger perception, perhaps with danger? So I merged the notion with my long-ago experience as an aide in a mental hospital, describing the patients I actually knew, and wrote the story.
Time passed, and the anthology did not find a publisher. So when I had a request from another publisher, I gave them this one, and it was published in Science Fiction Age, July 1993. Now, twenty years later, it should be safe to share it with you without getting caught by a dragon. But if you see that picture, donât push your luck.
Caution: personal
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