Novels2Search

Part 1 of 3

The quarter mile jog from my office to the subway platform for Boston's Orange Line was the furthest I had run in years. Out of breath and sweating, I hopped into a seat in the nearly empty train car.

My phone rang. It was my assistant, scrambling to ensure I had everything I needed for my flight.

"Ericke, your flight is confirmed, and I've checked you in. Lydia says the budget projections will be ready in twenty minutes."

"Email the new projections," I told her. "I'll swap them out later."

I ended the call and reviewed the printed presentation notes for the umpteenth time. My right leg bounced restlessly, burning off nervous energy. The car rattled and shook violently when the train hit a rough patch of rail. I dropped half the sheaf of papers I'd been juggling while hitting the email refresh button on my smartphone.

Two pages fluttered across the train, landing at the feet of one of the most bizarre men I've ever seen.

I realize how bold that statement is for anyone who regularly commutes via mass transit. Boston's mass transit is used equally by eccentric super geniuses from the Ivy leagues schools or the numerous tech companies, and by crazy people. Conversations with either can be a mix of enlightened conversation and equally profound nonsense. I couldn't decide which description fit my fellow passenger.

The man retrieved the pages and held them out in a gloved hand.

That's when I noticed the pair of unusual goggles concealing his face. The frame was fabricated out of heavy gauge wire bent into the shape of goggles. The eye lenses, for lack of a better name, were two blocks of wood. In the center of each wood block was a security peephole lens.

"Sounds like an important presentation," the man said.

"Easily the most important presentation of my life," I replied, reassembling the scattered papers with a sigh of relief. "The culmination of years of work, and only the future of my career on the line."

"I'm sure you'll do fine. No need to be nervous."

Realizing I was bouncing my leg, I stopped. "I wish it was just stage fright," I admitted. "After this long, I could cite every line in my sleep. I'm worried about nothing. It's silly really."

The man crossed his right leg over his left and placed his folded hands in his lap. "No one worries about 'nothing'. What troubles you, friend?"

He was wearing dark brown oxfords, pressed brown slacks, and a matching jacket over a starched blue cotton dress shirt. Too well-dressed for a lunatic, so a harmless eccentric. "The presentation is in Houston tomorrow, which means I have to fly. Airliners absolutely terrify me, which is ironic since I work for NASA."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"Ah, aerophobia, the fear of flying. I have several phobias myself as you might have guessed from the odd eyewear."

"Are they some kind of Steampunk cosplay goggles?"

"They are my own invention. My greatest fears are claustrophobia--a fear of enclosed spaces--and being too physically close to other people, among other social anxieties. The eyepieces are peepholes cut from doors. They make everything appear distant, and safe."

"That's an ingenious solution," I admitted. "I'm a bit of an inventor and expert on optics myself. My presentation is a pitch for Project VOY-R. It's a constellation of small space telescopes. Their combined resolution can image details the size of small cities on distant exo-planets. I'm flying to NASA Houston to pitch the project to the budget committee. Assuming I don't die of fright first."

"My many phobias have made me a reluctant expert on fear. What I can tell you is there are only two reactions to fear. Imagine two people on a cliff's edge. One will recoil in terror of falling, while the other will peer over and say, 'I want to jump.' The difference is how they perceive the danger. The first surrenders to fear and flees, while the second embraces fear to feel alive."

"Isn't the purpose of being afraid of falling off a cliff what keeps the first person alive?"

"Yes, fear is good for our survival when our lives are at risk. Irrational fear, however, keeps us from enjoying our lives. I've struggled with anxieties that made even simple tasks, like grocery shopping, feel overwhelming. For hours, I'd agonize over leaving the house. I'd peer through the peephole, watching until I felt calm enough to open the door. Then panic would overtake me, and I'd rush back inside."

"What, uh, motivated you to leave your house, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I read a quote by Dale Carnegie that changed my way of thinking. 'If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy.' I realized the calming effect was in how the peephole changed my perspective of the world, so I constructed these goggles."

The man held aloft a paper bag with souvenirs inside. "Without them, I'd miss out on Boston's many museums and historic attractions."

"If only there were goggles to cure a fear of flying."

"The power in the goggles resides not in their physical presence. It is in their ability to change my mental state. Fear originates in our mind so that is where we must confront it. You must change your negative thinking into positive thinking. Imagine not being afraid or not being in the fearful situation."

"How do I do that at thirty thousand feet when all I can think about is the plane crashing or coming apart in the air?"

"The physical sensation of flying is not much different than being on this train. Close your eyes for a moment. Go ahead, close them."

Despite the voice in my head warning me, this is when I get stabbed, mugged, or both, I played along. "Ok," I said. "Now what?"

"Feel how the bumps jostle us about. Hear the metal cab creak and groan. The sensation is the same on a jet. When you feel anxious on the airplane, close your eyes, and remember being on the train."

The train bell dinged as we entered the station. "This is our stop. Follow my advice. Shift your perspective. One last tip. Sit in an aisle seat, especially if your phobia stems from a fear of heights."

"Thank you," I said as he stepped off the train and disappeared into the crowd.

While waiting for my next train, I contemplated the man's words. Then I realized we hadn't exchanged names. I decide to name him Mr. Peep Holes.

The Blue Line arrived, and I continued to the airport. The new experiences of checking in and security checkpoints distracted me from thinking about what came next.

Until I took my seat on the airplane and the engines roared to life.

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