Compound Eyes

Jessica and Mark were sitting on a bench in the park. The weather was scorching hot. A perfect summer’s day. Besides them, the park was completely empty, as if they were the only people who were aware of how great the weather was. A couple of bees were there, occupied with burying their heads in flowers. Birds were ploughing the ground for worms and occasionally, a mosquito tried to test its luck with the couple, gently flying to their exposed legs to ram its snout into their flesh.

Jessica’s breath was irregular. She was panting, and tripped over her words, clearly excited about something she had in mind. Her friend Mark stared at her, patiently, expectantly.

‘There is something I want to pitch to you,’ she said, her breath shaky, her eyes glistening with excitement.

Mark smiled at her. Knowing her, it was probably something stupid. Last time she started a conversation like that, she told of crossbreeding pigs and ducks to develop a special bacon that stays crisp and doesn’t get soggy once she heard that ducks, even when spending time in water, don’t get wet. As she got older, getting her own apartment and her own responsibilities, she developed the habit of completely obsessing over things that only Mark was willing to put up with. She knew that Mark was the only one who listened to her, so she was always excited to talk with him about her ideas.

‘What’s the pitch?’

‘You know…’ She stared into his eyes. ‘You know, how we have all sorts of pictures at school for things like the solar systems, atoms or those sliced up bacteria cells?’ She waited for him to nod.

‘Yes?’

‘Nobody took those pictures. Those are just concept pictures! You know that?’

Mark tried not to laugh. ‘Course I do. They aren’t photographs. They are illustrations. Everyone knows that.’ He put on a look of suspicion. ‘Is that all?’

‘That is not all!’ She put her finger up. ‘Consider this now…’ She leaned a bit closer forward. ‘All those illustrations have been made with the sole intention of helping humans understand the universe.’

Mark still had no idea what Jessica was rambling on about, but her tone was building up to something. He remembers her bacon pitch, too, being like that. Picture this, she had said, you’re swimming in a pool and crave a crispy slice of bacon, but oops, it falls into the pool and now it’s not enjoyable anymore. Reason for that is the hydrophilic nature of the bacon strip itself! It had been hard for him to visualize the scenario at all, but she had a way of gripping Mark as if the things she was saying were really sound. Even if she was completely delusional.

Mark nodded now and she continued. ‘I ask you this now: have you ever seen such a visualisation for any other species?’

‘I guess not. No. Those pictures are for humans because they are the only species that studies the universe in such a way.’ His eyes trailed off from Jessica.

He thought Jessica looked really cute when she was getting riled up by her ideas, even if they felt like she was just sharing her shower thoughts with him, as opposed to really interesting concepts worthy of discussion. She had little bags under her eyes whenever she pitched him an idea, as if she mulled over it for the entire night beforehand. It drew attention to her eyes. Those eyes, with their verdant tinge. So tired. So beautiful. He smiled.

Jessica put her hands on her thighs and looked at him smugly. ‘I don’t think that’s quite fair now, is it? For example, you have those colourful pictures of DNA. That would be so useless for a dog because they don’t see the colours that well. We are in the position that we know better. And gatekeeping our knowledge is just plain cruel. Don’t you think?’

Mark thought back to the time Jessica was at his place. Back when he still had his dog. She’d seemed so gleeful and giddy at that moment. His big mastiff tongue had caressed her cheek like it was vanilla ice cream on a hot summer’s day. Back then, she’d never told him of ideas in her head. She seemed so close, but also not as talkative as she was now. He couldn’t help but shake his preference for the old version of her, back when he still had his dog.

‘I don’t think dogs would care.’

‘Some might,’ she quickly responded and a daring smile crept on her face, as she looked into his eyes. ‘But my idea doesn’t pertain to dogs. I need to start somewhere else. How do you think a fly sees the world?’

‘With compound eyes?’

Jessica jumped up from the bench, putting her palms in the air as if she was balancing an invisible cheerleader on top of her. ‘A huge tapestry of eyes. Like a kaleidoscope. And if that fly would see a picture of the solar system, it would see hundreds of thousands of planets in its view.’ She adjusted her glasses. ‘And that’s not scientifically correct.’

Mark remembered the time when she hadn’t worn glasses. She broke them. It was in the summer, must be seven years ago, back when it took her parents over a year to replace them because they had to spend a lot of money on some stupid stone, as Jessica had put it, for their son. So many emotions inside her, she didn’t know what she was saying. Back then, she was upset that she was so dependent on others. She saw everything blurry. It was the only time that Jessica had said to Mark that he looked beautiful. He knew it was meant as a joke, but he remembered it.

‘I don’t think flies care about the accuracy of their conception of the universe.’ Mark said, now. He stared too much. He shouldn’t look at her this intensely. He should break eye contact once in a while, he thought.

‘You can be such a hater sometimes.’ She nudged him a bit with her shoulder as she sat down on the bench next to him again.

      Mark smiled. ‘I’m not a hater. I just don’t think your idea is feasible. I can’t even begin to understand how you would conceive a picture, where a fly, with its hundreds of little eyes, could see a single image as we do. If you turn the solar system into a kaleidoscope, then it would just see the kaleidoscope in its own eyes, multiplied again.’

Jessica rubbed her chin. ‘My hypothesis was that two negatives make a positive and the kaleidoscope and the compound eyes would cancel each other out.’ She looked at him. ‘Did you know that flies can see UV light? Maybe that’s the key.’

He began to yawn. If only Jessica could see how annoying she was being. Back when they were still at school together, it wasn’t draining, talking to her. Ever since that one summer, when his dog was diagnosed with cancer and Jessica’s brother Dylan had drowned in their swimming pool when she was supposed to be watching over him, their relationship changed. Jessica used to talk about real things during that summer. Not crispy water-bacon or fly-friendly pictures. Things felt more real.

‘Is something wrong?’ Jessica asked him. ‘You tired?’ she added with a teasing undertone.

‘Yeah, the weather is getting to me. I think I should go.’ He stood up from the bench. They used to hug each other when departing but this time, Mark didn’t feel like it. He waved to her and left, leaving Jessica wondering why.

When Jessica went to her apartment, the idea she had just talked about with Mark was still in the forefront of her mind. She felt excitement coursing through her and immediately got to her working station. When she sat down in her chair, an army of fruit flies flew from the partly empty yoghurt cups on her desk. The entire working station smelled like rotting cheese or spoiled milk, depending on which yogurt cup was closest and able to overpower the others.

She opened up her photoshop app and worked throughout the day. The smell of the yogurt served a practical use of ruining her appetite whenever she took a breath, so she never felt the need to eat as she diligently worked. Hit the Save-as button, printer on and out came a kaleidoscope, where every little hexagon was a small image of the solar system. It filled the entire page and with pride she held it up in the air.

Jessica rushed towards the kitchen, paper in hand. Once she opened the door. Her ears were filled with buzzing noises. On the kitchen counter, the flies living with her couldn’t have been happier with the accidental hospitality of the hostess. Opened cans of fruits, black bananas, fish bones, half a pack of minced meat that had turned completely brown and served as a maggot kindergarten.

Whenever she stepped into her kitchen, it was a stark reminder to her just how hard living alone was. She hadn’t seen her parents even once since she was kicked out, at eighteen. They hated her guts for letting her brother die. They never used the pool after that. Not even on the hottest of summers. Careless. She didn’t care about anything, her father had said. It stung, and he was wrong. She did care. She put the paper she designed on her kitchen table.