The man sat there in a conference room where the light flickered and waved. The conference room sat there empty–but as empty as it was, at exactly twelve-o-two, the hand struck him down, and Jerry died that day. So alone, Jerry sat, in a meshy office chair, and waited under a gray fluorescent light, waiting for something else to appear. Then, there was another man who entered said room, and–the door opened with a hesitant creak, and the air sort of shook. 

“You’re dead, Jerry,” the new man spoke, he had sunglasses and a black and white suit. The top two buttons were unhooked, giving all but the sunglasses a pretty casual look. 

“Okay,” Jerry said not a flinch nor a shout. 

“You’re not surprised?” the second man acted shocked, but on the sunglassman, it was a strange, strange look. It really was hard to tell, only through tilted voice infliction, because his eyes were not seen beneath the darkness of his look. The first man shrugged with a head half shook, and he stared into the blackness of what was presented to him.

“Ok Jerry, well,” the second man began. He removed his sunglasses and thus the theory ran. Jerry began to cry, tears down his cheek. He grasped at his chest and he didn’t want to admit that he felt very weak. There was something about his death that made him feel something new. He missed out on a future or to see something cool. He will never see his family, because he can’t escape this conference room. with a man who will let him cry. But things cannot be undone, Jerry was as dead as a doorknob, oh well and he sat in the conference room on that sad, sad, day. 

The sunglasses were on the table, and the second man sighed because he was human too, so he showed it in his eyes. 

“Ok Jerry, that’s enough,” the second one addressed. He felt sad for the soul, so thus his eyes redressed. His nose was shaped like a hook, and the sunglasses sat like a crown, Davie felt suddenly so fine, but not good, or happy, it was just the sadness took a recess. It was hard for him to truly define. Jerry stopped crying, there was no more frown, and he took no more time to weep, but he had a joyless look. 

“Ok,” he said as an oddly speechless man, the Jerry he remembered had much more to say. But he didn’t want to say it, there was something too icy in the room, so his lips were shut and he waited for something else that he thought would come soon. 

“Well, let’s get started,” the second man continued

Still, his theory ran. 

The first man sat like a marble, not a statue, but a marble, with nothing in his brain, but there were all of these colors that were just close behind the glass, but he can’t reach them, and there was no way for him to explain,

“Ok Jerry, let’s move to the next one,” and he showed Jerry blots of inky rain, Jerry recognized this, but he didn’t know why. He wasn’t crazy or troubled, but there the sunglass man was sitting with inkblots he had to name. “What is this for?” he asked but didn’t want to appear too nosy too personal too much to the sunglassman who sat perfectly still. 

“It’s for a study, you can leave if you please, but this will be information important for your children or the friends on Earth you made.” 

Jerry looked at the inkblots, but he found his eyes so were bad, maybe he thought because he was dead, but no, his vision still sang. He would say that the second man’s eyes were the same, but there was no way to see them–under his sunglass disguise.

“What do you see?” he was asked. “I don’t know” was all he gave, with no sadness or regret. Without a moment of regress, the sunglasses were undressed. They were put onto the table as purely an item, a thing. They didn’t symbolize stuff on Earth or in death or all things.

“Do your eyes feel better?” the sunglassman asked with contact with his friend. Who nodded his head slowly with a strange feeling as if on a boat, his stomach knocking and keeling. “Can you tell me what you see?” The first man began to weep. 

“Do they have butterflies in hell?” he asked. The sunglassman chortled and sighed. 

“I’m not in charge of that, buddy, you have no reason to fret. There’s a guy named Jim and he’s more like a sorting hat. Everyone is where they ought to be, I bet that your form of retirement will have butterflies and plenty of things to see.” Jerry nodded but he was still more loosely human. 

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Am I supposed to see a tree?” “Only if you want” “Because I see a tree too, do they have those down there as well?” “You can ask Jim when we take a break very soon.”

They smiled at each other with a friendly leading tone. Then they were laughing together as if they were best bros. The sunglassman was having some fun, but he was getting paid too well to mess about, so he put his glasses back on, and thus the theory continued its predicted route. The first man stopped laughing and became quiet and dissonant too, but the sunglassman was still smiling, it was only Jerry who froze. He just sort of sat there, so the sunglassman too stopped, and in pure awkward air, he asked some more sample questions just to see what flew or what went well.

“How are you feeling?” he asked him, with the same tone as before. He wrote stuff on paper.

“Ok” was all Jerry said, so it was all that sunglassman took note.

“How does the future look in your dreams?” the second man asked. Davie shrugged his shoulders and drummed his fingers on his knees. 

“People have VR goggles, or so that’s what I see,” was what the first man said, and the second wrote. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eye with the back of his hand. Jerry paused and thought, as his own future theory began. 

“I see my family and my friends. They mourn me, right now I think. Then I think in maybe another generation, all cancer will be fixed, and no more car crashes exist. There will be more human rights, spread across the Earth, and everyone is equal, no matter what religion is observed. I think that artists will be loved and governments will be fair. People don’t have to worry about money, and no more warring like monkies.” the sunglassman smiled. “What about the goggles?” 

“Well, how would you even see? They look dorky and cover half your face. I think that it’ll make it harder to hug other people or eat good food. They’ll fall off of rollercoasters and everyone will dismiss everything you believe. Because they only look inside the googles, and even if you see the world, it’s only through the screen,” he said. The sunglassman was writing, and he listened with a keen ear. “And I’m not against technology, that’s where I’m at, but we’ve gone too far in enjoyment, sometimes life sucks, but back in my day, you fall down more than the hits you take, because half of the time you fall, it’s a hit you yourself make. You don’t need to watch movies or stream on a bus. Take in the sounds, smells, and things of life even if it’s rough. There’s no need for more emersion, we create the tools, so I think they use them for things more astonishing. Things that are more real and holdable than just CGI that’s more robust.” Jerry smiled proudly at his wildly profound answer, and the sunglassman wrote quickly so as to not miss a word, he scribbled and scrabbled in the box and the margins too. 

“Beautiful, my friend, not all humans have minds like yours,” he smiled. “One last question. About my sunglasses–do they bother you?” The first man nodded and the second man wrote that down too. 

What do my glasses do to you? Because I’m the same with or without.

Good question (thinking more) I just don’t like you very much–why? 

Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to offend–no it’s okay, I’m good

I’m not sure if it has anything to do with you–but then why such a mood?

I still don’t know but your eyes bother me–why?

I don’t want to talk to your glasses–why?

I just like you less–why?

I think you don’t want to talk to me–why?

I feel like when you put them on, you leave the room and leave me all alone in here.

I feel like you don’t like me and wish you were somewhere far from here. And that you wished that I was a different dead guy in this dull, dull conference room. And I feel like you find talking to me a chore, but when the glasses are off, it all goes out the door.”

“Okay, we’re done for today, you did a wonderful job,” he said getting up from his chair. He patted Jerry on the back in a very friendly way. His glasses were folded in his hands, and he tossed them into a garbage can (it wasn’t there before). 

“Now move along down, to death, nothing to be scared of. It’s not right, that hallway is the present, it’s to the left. It’s past the door marked future, and it’s the door that is marked tacos in gray. That’s just the cafeteria but that’s where Jim resides around noon. Just talk to him and he’ll tell you if you’re condemned or otherwise doomed–and then he’ll give you a room key to where you will reside, and you’ll live in that little world until time and eternity subsides.” Jerry nodded, listening to directions. 

“And Jerry, for the record, off the record, you’re a chill guy and I do like you and have no hate towards you, thank you for your time. Have a great stay.”

So Davie talked to Jim, who ended up condemning Jerry–to a crowded bathroom to live out the rest of his life due to some murder that he committed on some random day. And then, the sunglassman signed his name on his study which he based on his query “Why does everyone imagine a future where people lose their eyes”. He folded up his papers in a little nearly-white folder, and on the paper that he signed, he titled it The Sunglass Theory.