Elated from obtaining approval for the space telescopes, I quickly boarded my return flight three days later. Eager to celebrate with my team, a cautious excitement for the return flight filled me. Had I fooled myself into believing I'd eradicated my phobia?

"Excuse me. Is this buckled correctly?" I asked the older woman next to me, fumbling with the locking mechanism.

She stopped rummaging through her carry-on bag. "What's that?"

I pointed to my lap belt. "It's my second time flying. I want to make sure I'm doing everything right."

"Looks right. A flight attendant will check everyone, just in case," she reassured me.

"Thank you," I replied as I removed the safety placard from the seat pocket. I traced the routes to each exit with my finger in relation to my seat location in the diagram.

My seat neighbor chided me. "What took you so long to fly?"

Embarrassed, I shoved the chart back into the seat pocket. "I am, or was, deathly afraid of flying until three days ago."

Her silver eyebrows shot up. "How did you get over your fear so fast?"

Had it been only three days ago since the subway train? I smiled and said, "I met the most interesting man on my way to the airport. He gave me a new perspective that changed how I experience air travel."

As I told the story, she nodded along, eyes bright with interest.

"Well, isn't that something," the woman said while patting my arm. "You were destined to have that encounter, I'd say."

Before I knew it, the captain announced our descent into Boston. I thanked the woman for making the flights so enjoyable for me before we went our separate ways.

* * *

Crime scene tape and blood-stained concrete at the transit station platform made the hair on my neck stand up.

"Never would have happened if transit cops did their job," the woman standing beside me remarked.

"What happened? I've been out of town."

"It was all over the news yesterday," she said. "A mentally ill guy brutally attacked a man wearing weird glasses. He claimed the victim is a time-traveling spy from another planet. The news said the victim is in a coma, might never wake up."

The news hit me like a gut punch. 'Weird glasses.' I prayed it was someone else.

I pulled out my phone with shaking hands. Searched the news sites. A recent article featured an old photo of the victim, a slender man in a fine suit and bowtie.

It was him. Mr. Peepholes. I had not known his name until now. The headlines proclaiming the vicious assault of former MIT professor Niles Bryant.

I rushed home and called the hospital. After waiting forever on hold, they said he was out of the coma and recovering. I inquired about visiting hours. Only family members could visit, although no one had.

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

Unable to do more, I sent flowers and a card with my phone number and then waited. The next day, I set my team to work on the VOY-R project. Meanwhile, I started a side project for a new idea.

The next three weeks went by in a blur until Mr. Peepholes, Niles, called me. He wanted to meet me that weekend.

* * *

I knocked on Nile's apartment door, carefully balancing the box tucked under one arm. My palms perspired as I paced in eager anticipation of meeting him.

My heart skipped a beat when a shadow blocked the light coming through the peephole. I heard multiple deadbolts slide free. A thin voice instructed me to wait five seconds and then to enter.

….one thousand four. One thousand five. I entered the apartment.

A voice echoed down the hallway, guiding me to a room deeper inside. A frail figure sat at the opposite end of a long dining table, his face and arms covered with small bandages.

His voice was low and raspy. "Please, have a seat, Ericke. Thank you for coming. I have wanted to personally thank you for the unexpected well wishes during my hospital stay."

Scarcely trusting my voice, I said, "Hello, Niles. I don't know if you remember me. We met on the subway a month ago. I had a terrible fear of flying. You helped me by telling me that fears gain power by avoiding them."

Niles coughed weakly into a handkerchief. "Ah yes. Facing fears and accepting how we feel is how we conquer them." He paused for a moment's reflection. "I do remember you now. You stated you 'had' a fear of flying meaning you no longer do?"

I leaned forward, eager to describe how he had impacted my life. "The flight was terrifying journey through a thunderstorm. I was convinced I was going to die in a fiery crash. However, the plane stayed airborne, and I used your advice. The fear drained away." I grinned as my chest puffed up with pride. "I now make regular flights for the project and have even accrued frequent flier miles."

"That is wonderful news. Now I am the one who sits across from you in fear. Without my goggles, I have been unable to work up the courage to leave my home to buy parts for a new pair. If I don't go soon, my anxiety meds prescription will run out, and I'll be incapable of leaving the house."

I patted the box on the table and grinned. "I have something I hope will solve your problems. You may recall that I work with optics and displays. Your old goggles inspired me to make these."

I pulled a slim pair of VR goggles from the box and presented them to him. "There are four tiny outward-facing cameras in the frames that feed video to four internal screens. You'll have a full one-hundred-eighty-degree field of view."

Niles examined the goggles, his fingers tracing the sleek design. "They look very professional. Like a real consumer product. I appreciate the gesture."

His expression darkened, a shadow passing over his features. "Although I know my attacker was mentally disturbed, I'm now afraid of being assaulted again for wearing goggles."

I turned the headset on and pressed it to my face. "An internal camera displays your eyes on a screen so people feel more comfortable engaging with you." I lowered the goggles. "Would you care to try them on?"

"Yes. Can you please help me put them on?" Niles asked while averting his gaze.

I gently guided the straps over the bandages swathing his head. "Tug on the side straps to get a snug fit. There are independent scroll wheels on either side to adjust the perceived distance for each eye."

Niles's hands shook as he adjusted the goggles. He looked around the room and gasped. There was a tremor in his voice as he said, "Thank you. Despite my phobias, I enjoy being among people. I have been depressed being stuck indoors since the attack."

Choking up with emotion, I told him with teary eyes, "I hope the goggles can do for you what you did for me. If you use the adjustment controls to bring the world closer a little each day, perhaps someday you will no longer need them."

Struggling to stand, he asked, "Can you help me to the door? I want to see the world again."

Wrapping an arm around him, I helped him walk down the hallway. He fumbled for a few seconds, trying to find the handle with the goggles on. He turned the handle and nudged the door open with his foot. Sunbeams fell on him, and he soaked them in before stepping outside.

Niles turned towards me and gripped my hand. I saw his tear-filled eyes on the headset screen. "My friend," he said, "you have given me far more than a technical aid. You have given me hope, courage, and a better friendship than I believed possible."

Looking at his tearful face, I marveled at how he had once again reshaped my perspective. Over the past few weeks, I had come to see him not as an eccentric oddball, but as an exceptionally wise and courageous friend.