Through the lens, while stargazing, and by happenstance, I first glimpsed the eye. I thought then that what I saw was merely a reflection, for when I blinked, it blinked in perfect time.
Perhaps this reflection was refracted by a speck of dust or glinting of stray light? Perhaps the telescope array, the tube, a knob or aperture had somehow shifted, disarranged, becoming misaligned?
With a great, defeated sigh, I set about making adjustments and then with cleaning, spending nearly half the night. I polished every glass twice, twisted every knob, tried every measure known to me to bring the stars back into sight…yet each time I peered into the eyepiece, I did not find the constellation I sought to see…
I only found the reflection of my own eye staring directly back at me.
As it continued to confound me, long and hard I stared. This view was a frustration shifting slowly from confusion to a dawning fascination for I finally understood and could accept this situation: there was no misalignment, no smear on the lenses, no speck of dust. And yet, I could not seem to gaze past this strange reflection and resume my viewing of the sky above. So it was, with growing irritation, that I simply stared back into my own eye.
The thing must be busted.
Still, I stared and doubt began to show itself. With unsettled self-reflection as that doubt continued to unfold, contemplating the reflection’s strange sudden appearance caused a new and unexpected worry to take hold: What if this reflection I was seeing was not even truly there? What if I've lost my reason and I'm somehow unaware? If I've lost my reason, then there is no mirror image there to see then! What if this thing that I believe in is nothing more than a delusion? An illusion…shades of shadows cast on empty air? What then?
Stepping back, I raised a hand to scratch thoughtfully the stubble growing on my chin as I let this thought sink in…
But that–it simply wasn't true. The mentally unsound lack such capacity to question thoughts such as these reflectively or doubt a single thing they might believe, or say, or see, or even doubt the strange things that they do. Because I feel the grip of fear at such a thought serves for me as well as measurable proof.
Leaning forward, I pressed my vision back against the eyepiece once more. Strangely the reflected eyeball seemed much larger than before. Closer...had it somehow gotten closer?
So it would seem.
Was part of this confounded instrument shifting on its own when the telescope hadn't even moved? How could this be? I hadn't so much as even touched it returning my face to the eyepiece.
Then, as I watched my own reflection, I saw it blink again and felt a chill as cold as ice begin sinking deep into my skin–I became aware right there and then that this reflection in my telescope was not caused by some malfunction from within. The optical tube couldn't be reflecting back to me the sight of my own eye. I became aware this thing I stared upon was conscious and alive.
As I gazed upon it, so its gazed back as if the act was in reply...
This is no mirror image of my own blinking eye I'm seeing as I gaze into the sky, although an explanation with such simplicity would calm the feeling of anxiety, this feeling which is causing me to tremble as it continues to arise. A mere reflection–but no–wouldn't that be be nice?
For this moment I have only blinked but once…
…and I watched this eye amongst the stars as it blinked back at me not just once, but twice..
