The Big Black Void

“Do things look any different to you?” I asked Charlotte, but she ignored me. Adam, our twelve-year-old, had a diorama due the next day, and Charlotte was busy gluing plastic dinosaurs into a shoebox. I didn’t realize kids still made dioramas, I thought it was only something you see in movies. Adam for his part was busy in the family room playing video games. “Do things look any different to you?” I asked again, picking up a blue stegosaurus. It was wet.

“I just painted that,” Charlotte snapped, snatching it out of my hand. “Don’t forget we have the PTA meeting tomorrow and Adam needs a ride to soccer practice on Saturday,” she said, without looking up. “We also still need to…”

I studied the paint on my fingers. It looked translucent, like it was disappearing. I left Charlotte as she rattled off all the things we still needed to do - chores and bills and endless social obligations. She barely noticed as I left the room, busy struggling to keep the stegosaurus standing upright in a glob of hot glue.  If I was a dinosaur, I wouldn’t like standing in glue either.

“Do things look any different to you?” I asked Adam after meandering into the family room, but he was too focused on his handheld video game, his fingers mashing buttons at incredible speed. I sat down next to him and bumped elbows.

“Dad, you messed me up,” he said, yanking his elbow away and sliding off the couch as if my body was toxic. I caught a quick glimpse of the familiar green hat on the screen of his video game console.

“You know I use to play Merkin the Magician games when I was your age. It’s amazing that they’re still a thing.” I said, but he had already stomped out of the room. 

“Don’t forget you promised to give me a ride to Bobby’s house tonight,” he yelled back from halfway down the hall. 

I missed the days when his video game system was plugged into the wall and he was a captive audience. We used to just sit here and spend time together. Now there were so many responsibilities. And somewhere along the line, I had become a side character in my own house. 

I sat alone on the couch, now that Adam had fled the room, and stared at the blackened screen of the TV. My reflection, sitting alone in the darkened room on the other side of the screen, stared back at me. “Do things look any different to you?” I asked my reflection. 

“Different, how?” my TV reflection asked back.

“I don’t know…like everything is disappearing. Like the world is blurring together into a big black void.” Even as I spoke the rest of the room became a blur, the colors becoming muted and fogging over.

“My whole world is a big black void,” my TV reflection said. I could see he was right, everything reflected in the TV screen was a deep shade of black. “Have you considered that maybe the world isn’t disappearing, but you are?” I thought about this and looked down at my body. It appeared solid enough. “Disappearing can be very romantic,” my reflection continued, “if you look at it in the right light and ignore most of the consequences. But that’s easy to do if you disappear fast enough.”

“And what if I disappear slowly?” I asked.

“Everyone will get angry with you.”

“I see,” I said. I wondered if that was why Charlotte snapped at me and Adam seemed to run away every time I got near. I was disappearing too slowly.

I turned on the TV and flipped through some channels until I came to Kelly Cosmo, Charlotte’s favorite daytime talk show host. She sat, causally reclining on a chaise lounge with a wingback chair carefully placed across from her, angling out towards an invisible audience. A blue stegosaurus sat hunched over in the chair, his neck craning down to avoid the overhead stage lights. He was talking in a squeaky high-pitched clip.

“The taxonomy of dino-centric childhood obsession starts with the larger carnivores of course…your raptors and t-rexes and the like. Young boys are naturally drawn to the danger, the adventure of it all. I, being a herbivore, likely seem somewhat dull in comparison. I’m large, slow, and have no defensive skills, beyond my size and meager spikes at the end of my tail.” 

The stegosaurus sighed and Kelly Cosmo nodded sympathetically, urging him to continue. “Yet, despite my obvious deficiencies, I had joy in my heart once upon a time. And I brought joy to others. And certain boys of a more sensitive nature seemed to take to me. They didn’t mind that I lumbered about the undergrowth and only ate leaves.”

“Certain boys?” Kelly asked, flashing her big eyes and putting her chin into the palm of her hands.

“Well, one certain boy in particular,” the stegasaurus responded. He looked out past the audience, through the TV screen, directly at me. For a moment we made eye contact before he turned back to Kelly and continued, “But the environmental conditions have changed, you know? My evolutionary utility has run it’s course. The world has no use for me.”

Kelly nods. “And you’re afraid you’ve been forgotten?”

“Yes and no. Those were happier days, of course. And I’d love to rewind history back to the time before I became extinct, pardon the pun.” A loud groan was heard from an audience member, and Kelly’s eyes flicked out towards the screen in annoyance. The stegosaurus didn’t seem to notice and continued. “But I fear I’ve lost whatever advantage I may have had. Even if I could go back, I fear I’d be nothing but a disappointment. I’m ashamed of what I’ve become.”

“But you have to fight for what you love,” Kelly said, crossing her legs and leaning forward sympathetically.

“Well yes,” the stegasaurus said, considering this. “But what if the very thing you love about yourself is drifting away from you and there’s nothing you can do to get it back. What if extinction is the only way to stop the loss. Extinction as preservation of that very thing you love?” Kelly Cosmo shook her head solemnly and another groan was heard from the audience. This time the camera panned around, but instead of a live audience, the screen displayed another reflection of myself, sitting on the couch, the big black void swirling behind me. 

“Oh, give me a break,” a voice said next to me, and as the camera zoomed in on my reflection, I could see a small green man sitting next to me on the couch. It was Merkin the Magician and he groaned again, drawing it out for effect. “This pity pot peevishness makes me want to puke,” he said gruffly, “pardon the alliteration.” His signature green magician’s hat was crumpled by his side, revealing an unconvincing comb-over and cancer spots on his bald dome. He had a cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth and a puff of smoke wafted up, illuminated by the light of the TV.

“The problem with people like Stevie…” Merkin started.

“Stevie?” I asked.

“The stegosaurus…”

“Stevie the Stegosaurus,” I repeated. The name sounded so familiar. Forgotten memories began to resurface at the back of my mind

“Yeah, try to keep up.” Merkin coughed and let out another puff of smoke. “The problem is they can’t face the inevitable. This fear of being forgotten is nothing but the ego crying out for attention like an immature child…”

“I remember Stevie,” I said. 

“Sure you do. And that’s what I’m getting at. Someone, somewhere in their past, lied to them and told them that they would be a person of consequence, that their life would be full of meaning…”

“...He was only a stuffed animal then. I remember telling my mom that I was too old to be playing with dolls..”

“...Most people grow out of it, but those that don’t - like Stevie - get all boo-hooey about it. It’s a recipe for disaster…”

“...He used to be my best friend. Until I stuffed him down into the garbage disposal…”

“...They just can’t adapt. Change is inevitable.”

 “...He didn’t deserve the trash,” I said.

“Of course he did!” Merkin said, his face turning red. “We’re all meant for the trash one way or another. We’re all meant to be forgotten. Look at me…” Merkin jumped up onto his feet, bouncing up and down on the couch. Without his hat, he was only about three feet tall. “I would love to be forgotten! But no! They keep dragging me back out, year after year. Merkin 3, Merkin 4, Merkin and Friends, Merkin Party, Merkin’s Magical Mansion. I’m exhausted. I would love to be forgotten!” Merkin erupted into a coughing fit and collapsed back down onto the couch. In the process, his cigar slipped out of his fingers, the orange ember receding into the dark nothingness below, growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared.

“Can you quit?” I asked, when he finally calmed down and his face went back to a more neutral green.

“Quit?” Merkin asked.

“You know. Just stop doing all those things?”

“Humph! You’d think so, right? But it’s harder than it sounds. I’m Merkin the Magician. I have an online fan base. A full product line. I’m a four-quadrant entertainment property. I have responsibilities! Do you know what it’s like to have the happiness of others be your responsibility? It’s a massive burden!” 

“I can see that,” I said.

But!...” and here Merkin winked at me and scooted closer, “I’ve figured a way out. I simply need to pass over to that place where nothing exists and everything is non-existent. Then it’s no longer my problem. I can finally rest.”

“Does a place like that exist?” I asked.

“Of course! You should know. You’re on your way there now.” I glanced around and down at the big black void surrounding me and couldn’t refute his claim.

“Aren’t you scared?” I asked.

“Of course not. I’ve been non-existent before. I was non-existent when Stevie and his buddies roamed the earth. I was non-existent for billions of years and never complained once. It wasn’t until after I started to exist that I started to complain. It was sometime in the 80’s.”

“I see,” I started to say, but before I finished, a high-pitched voice interrupted from the direction of the TV set.

“That’s the biggest load of dino droppings I’ve ever heard!” the voice said, and I looked over and saw that Stevie and Kelly Cosmo were no longer on TV, but sitting directly across from us. A chaise lounge, a wingback chair, and a couch all suspended in a void of nothingness. 

“It’s easy for you to wax rhapsodically about being forgotten,” Stevie said, directly addressing Merkin, “because you’ve never had to experience it. Everyone still loves you!”

“Do they!?” Merkin shot back. “Do they really? Or am I just a commodity to trot out when they need to sell a new video console?”

“Oh you like to play the cynic, don’t you!” Stevie said. “You love to make your flippant little remarks. I never complained until I existed…” Stevie mimicked a deep gruff voice, doing his best mocking impression of Merkin. “Children the world over love you, but you’re too far up your own magical ass to realize it.”

Merkin’s face turned a deep shade of red and his whole body shook in rage. “You’re dead dino meat!” Merkin screamed, and before I knew what he was doing, he had leapt off the couch, over the void, and grabbed onto the wingback chair, clawing his way up Stevie’s tail and torso. In the process, the force of his jump sent the couch hurtling backward and out from under me. I found myself in a state of freefall. I looked over to see Merkin, hanging desperately onto Stevie, his added weight pulling them both down into the void with me. 

“Bye-bye,” Kelly Cosmo said cheerily as the three of us - Stevie, Merkin, and myself - tumbled down into the darkness, leaving Kelly and the couch floating up and away far above us.

“You complain about your responsibilities!” Stevie yelled as Merkin scurried up his shoulders and neck, pouncing on his head. “I would kill off an entire species to feel needed again!” 

Merkin began lobbing a barrage of blows with his little fists against Stevie’s face. “I would kill off your species just to have you shut up!” He yelled. “Boo-hoo…I’m ashamed of my own inadequacies!” he said in a high-pitched voice, mocking Stevie.

“It’s so hard bringing happiness to others!” Stevie fired back gruffly, mocking Merkin in return, as he twisted his neck back and forth to shield his face from the blows.

“I’m so useless I got thrown in the garbage disposal!”

“I’m so ungrateful I want to DIE!” 

“STOP!” I yelled and both Stevie and Merkin froze in mid-scuffle, turning towards me. “Do you hear that?” I asked. Merkin let go of Stevie’s face, and Stevie craned his neck back around, both listening intently to the silence of the big black void.

A faint child’s voice could be heard. “Dad…” it said. I looked up and far above me I could still see the outline of the couch. A distant figure stood beside it. “Dad…” the child’s voice repeated.

“It’s Adam,” I said. Stevie and Merkin followed my eyesight up through the void. “Adam!” I yelled up, but we were too far below. He couldn’t hear me. “He’s calling for me,” I said, as much to myself as to Stevie and Merkin. I began kicking my feet and pumping my arms back and forth, as if swimming upward and I found myself getting closer to the couch above me, while Merkin and Stevie dropped further below.

“Dad, are you okay?” I heard Adam say softly. He turned to a figure outside my field of vision. “How long is he going to stay on the couch?” he asked.

“It’s okay honey, your Dad’s not feeling well,” I heard Charlotte’s voice, but I couldn’t see her - only Adam and the couch. Everything else was swallowed by the void.

I continued kicking against the darkness, my body rising - slowly at first but then faster and faster. With each stroke, Adam and the couch grew closer until I was directly underneath them. With one final push, my body shot upward, passing through the bottom of the couch and into a flash of blinding light.

I woke up sweating. I was back on the couch, in the family room, the blackened TV screen staring across the room at me. It was night and I was alone. The house was silent. Slowly I got up, my body surprisingly stiff, and made my way into the kitchen. Charlotte was nowhere to be found. I made my way upstairs to find Adam’s door cracked open. I slipped in and gently sat down on his bed. He stirred and looked up at me.

“Hi,” he said, half asleep.

“Hey buddy,” I said.

“My diorama won.” I looked over, and the finished diorama was sitting on his desk, a blue stegosaurus standing upright, front and center, a gold ribbon attached to it. His video game was lying next to it.

“That’s great,” I said softly. “We’ll need to celebrate.”

“We already did,” he said, his eyes still closed, barely awake. “It was last week. Mom got pizza.”

Last week? Had I been on the couch that long? What was wrong with me? I kissed Adam good night and told him to go back to sleep. I slipped back out into the hallway and approached the master bedroom. The door was closed. Carefully I opened it and tiptoed in. The TV was on but the volume was muted. It looked like a late-night rerun of the Kelly Cosmo show. The glow from the TV illuminated Charlotte’s body, asleep on the bed, curled up in a pile of blankets. I slipped out of my clothes and gently laid down beside her. I felt her draw closer, nestling her back into my side. I could feel her warmth.

“We missed you,” she said, still asleep, her voice soft and distant.

“I know,” I said. I leaned over and kissed her gently. “I’m sorry.”

I layed in bed, staring at the silent TV, the face of Kelly Cosmo sympathetic and understanding.