A Brighter Future

In five minutes, Prometheus Nikola hoped to change the world. He paced backstage, rehearsing his speech that would introduce the culmination of his life's work to the masses. With each minute that passed, his fingernails burrowed into his skin as his grip tightened around the briefcase that housed the life-altering invention. 

A man with a small stature but impressive waistline waddled over towards Prometheus. His belly allowed him to fasten only the top button of his vest. He removed the bowler hat from his head and placed it over his heart. "Pardon the interruption, sir," Prometheus's assistant, Geoffrey Hummel, spoke, "but I was wondering if you had any final instructions for me?"

Prometheus froze in place. He bit his index finger as he mentally went through the unveiling checklist. Saliva began to drip down his hand. "Two things, Mr. Hummel. Remember to pass out the glasses on my signal and be prepared to collect MANY payments."

"Understood," Geoffrey responded flatly. While he respected his employer, he did not share Prometheus's optimism. Geoffrey put back on his bowler hat, gave a small bow, and left to collect the box with the special glasses.  

"One more minute before I make history," Prometheus exclaimed. He took a heavy sigh and walked to the stage's entrance. He bit his index finger as he waited for his introduction. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, children and those young at heart, distinguished guests and the rest, welcome to the 1893 World's Fair. We have scoured the planet to find the best that Eigengrau has to offer. We are excited to introduce you to new contraptions that will change your life. Prepare to be amazed. Prepare to be astonished. Prepare to part with your cash as we welcome our first inventor, Prometheus Nikola!"

Prometheus took a big gulp and entered the stage. He was greeted by a round of applause coerced by the emcee. He placed the briefcase on the staged table and shuffled to his mark. 

Prometheus could barely make out the 40 or so people gathered in front of the stage. The room had gone quiet. Prometheus was able to hear a mouse sneeze. "Just like you rehearsed," he whispered to himself. 

Prometheus cleared his throat and began, "When man discovered the cool flame that brought heat, our planet was changed forever. Society moved forward when the wheel was invented. The embosser allowed us to have a world of knowledge at our fingertips. And most recently, electricity has powered us to greater heights."

Prometheus took a dramatic pause before resuming. The crowd was listless. A man in the back coughed. He continued, "Today, you are witnesses to an invention on par with those advancements. Today, we usher in a new era that will change not only this city, not only this country, but all of Eigengrau."

Trembling, Prometheus scuttled back to the table and unlatched the briefcase. He pulled out a pear-shaped contraption and lifted it up high. "Behold," he bellowed, "the instrument of the future."

"What does it do?" a man jeered. The audience grunted in support of the question. 

Prometheus chuckled. "Well, pal. That's a loaded question. We would have to invent words to describe what this puppy can do."

The spectators groaned at the lack of answer. 

With a verbal flourish, Prometheus asked, "What if I told you that there is more than meets the eyes? That we are capable of seeing beyond simple shapes and figures? Or that there are shades beyond black that are vibrant and bold!" 

Mutterings of confusion spread across the assembly. 

Prometheus strode to his other invention: a tall, slim device that was also on stage. Silently, he screwed the bulbous item in place. "Today marks the next stage of evolution for Eigengraulians," Prometheus said with giddiness. He licked his upper lip as he savored the moment before revelation. "Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you… LIGHT!"

Prometheus pressed a button that activated the lamp. Instantaneously, the world turned from a uniform grey to a searing white as a dazzling light emanated from the bulb. A cacophony of moans and screams arose as the audience tried to comprehend the new colors and details that they could now perceive. They shrieked in pain as they futilely tried to cover their eyes. 

"I'm blind," a woman cried, her vision blurred by the light. "I can no longer see any shapes."

A man repeatedly wailed, "It hurts! It hurts," while clutching the side of his head. 

Several people threw up from disorientation. Soon, the smell of vomit overtook the fair's traditional popcorn aroma. 

Three people fainted from the sensory overload. 

Prometheus Nikola looked out at the chaos. He anticipated the crowd's reaction. He experienced it as well when he first gazed upon the light. Prometheus snapped his fingers and called for his assistant. "Mr. Hummel, please pass out the special frames."

"Aye, aye," Geoffrey responded. He knew beforehand about the light, so he was already wearing the glasses. Unlike his employer, he hadn't yet acclimated to the light. 

As the spectators put on their glasses, Prometheus resumed. "What you are wearing is another invention of mine— polarized lens in a frame. I call them lightglasses. With these on, you can —"

"Now hear here," an older man interrupted, believing the presentation had already overstayed its welcome. He pointed an accusatory finger at Prometheus. "What in tarnation are you doing?"

"He's trying to murder us." 

"He's trying to trick us."

"Boo!"

Randomly, an attendee threw a half-eaten apple that widely missed Prometheus's head. He removed his top hat and began playing with the rim, wondering how to squash the growing hostility. "Seeing light can be shocking and overwhelming. But I promise you can grow accustomed to the new reality."

"He's a freak." 

"He's a madman." 

"He's a damn fool."

"Oi, listen up you lot," thundered Geoffrey. His enormous figure quickly commanded attention. Through the polarized lens, it was hard to make out his red face, flushed with anger. While it was true he never understood his boss's vision, nor could he overlook his boss's quirks, Prometheus was also kind, fair, and had a contagious idealism. He did not deserve this type of treatment. "Mr. Nikola may be bloomin' mad, but he's a bloody genius." He added emphasis on each word in his last sentence, as if he were uttering a threat, "LET. THE. MAN. SPEAK."

All attention went back on Prometheus. His hands were so violently shaking that it caused him to drop his top hat. He pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and tried to wipe away the sweat from his forehead. "Please be patient. Change takes time. Once we adapt to the wonder of light, the possibilities are endless." His voice cracked from the creeping doubt as he spoke.

"And why, pray tell, should we adapt?" It was the man who pointed the finger at Prometheus earlier. His booming voice silenced the rest of the crowd. "I am not sure we were ever supposed to see the world that way."

"But it opens the door to a greater appreciation of life," Prometheus pleaded. Not only could he hear the anger and disgust in the audience's voices, but he could see it as well. 

"It's unnatural."

"It's unnecessary."

"It should be turned off!"

Soon, the entire crowd joined in a chorus of "Turn it off."

The emcee walked back on stage in an attempt to regain some sense of order. He wore the lightglasses he was given before the presentation. "Thank you, Mr. Nikola, for the, um, revelatory demonstration. Now, could you please turn off that infernal, I mean, unique invention of yours?"

Prometheus Nikola wordlessly complied. In the dark, no one saw his tears. 

Sounds of relief came from the assembly. As they regained their vision, many of the spectators noticed how the lightglasses added an air of sophistication to their figures. 

"Darling," a husband commented, "I love how the frames shape your face."

"They do make you look smashing," another husband remarked to his wife. 

Another husband looked around for Geoffrey, "I'll purchase two!"

Originally, the lightglasses were meant to be a giveaway with the lightbulbs. The bundle was priced low in hopes of making the future as accessible as possible to everyone. Geoffrey hoped that Prometheus would say something, but Prometheus had already left the stage. Panicking, Geoffrey blurted out an absurdly high number, but people didn't care. He sold out within minutes. 

Once the last pair of glasses were sold, Geoffrey stumbled backstage to find Prometheus. His employer was sitting on a crate, biting his index finger. "Sir, it was a success!"

"What do you mean?"

"People bought all the glasses. I sold them for two dollars."

"Two dollars? That's 50 cents more than what I was planning on charging for the lightbulbs, and the glasses were going to be included! I don't want to rip off these people."

"They didn't care! People bought several glasses. Feel how much money we made!" 

Prometheus grabbed the cash. It felt like over 100 dollars. He could not believe one of his inventions sold. Bitterly, he handed the money back to Geoffrey. "Keep it," Prometheus spat. 

Prometheus did not appear at the world’s fair to make money but rather to change the planet. He hoped he would be remembered as a respectable inventor who transformed the world by bringing it light. Now, he was nothing better than a huckster, selling meaningless trinkets for the rich. People don't want change or improvement. They just want to feel better. 

In the perpetual darkness of Eigengrau, Prometheus watched his dreams fade away and embraced his dim future.

"On second thought, let's split the cash 70-30."