So Long Been Dreaming (26 page)

Lacuna could not believe what he was hearing. A magical mirror from which he wasn’t allowed to break his gaze?

“This is insane,” he protested. “How will I get around? How will I hold a job or even walk down the street if I always have to look into this magical mirror? Does everyone in the Northern Kingdom have to do this?”

The Gate Keeper sighed as if he had explained this far too many times to feel altogether sympathetic.

“Only people who were not born in the city are assigned mirrors. Those who were born here do not need them. As for getting around, I assure you that the Mirror People – as we call citizens like yourself – do just fine. They manage to hold down jobs and raise families, and they get around the best they can. Believe me, it may seem strange now. but you’ll adjust in no time. And if you can’t, well, you can always go back where you came from.”

Lacuna felt a horrid mixture of disappointment, anger, and frustration. He wished he had gone west or east or south: anywhere but here. But he had come so far that he was determined at least to see this great city with all its people. He reached for the papers, dipped the quill pen in the pot of deep blue ink, and signed on the dotted line. Immediately afterward, the Gate Keeper brought forth a large golden-framed mirror from beneath his desk and handed it to him. It was heavy and unwieldy, as wide as Lacuna’s shoulders, and square. He took it grudgingly and returned to the gates with his freshly-validated papers.

The Mirror People and the Mirrorless People

Once inside the city, the first thing Lacuna noticed was that he had to strap everything onto his back, including his skeleton key crutch-axe, because it took both of his hands to hold the magical mirror in front of his face. He also noticed that the Gate Keeper was not lying about the intense pain that came to him when he glanced away for merely a moment to take in the city; the pain shot like lightning through his temples, and out of necessity he quickly returned his gaze to the mirror. He noticed, however, that there were several people on the streets who held mirrors up to their faces, although the majority of the people in the city did not. He saw that the Mirror People walked backwards, using their mirrors to see over their shoulders which direction they were going. It looked like many of these people had been doing this for years because they seemed very skilled at walking backwards, talking to each other, and even reading words in books or newspapers backwards, all by angling the mirror in the right direction. They looked awkward, but managed as best they could.

He spent his first day walking around the city, trying to get used to walking backwards and with his mirror as his guide, looking for somewhere to stay and places that might hire him for work. He felt foolish with his mirror, especially when he was around people who did not need mirrors.

At one point, he had to ask directions of a man who also carried a mirror, and for the first time realized that such a conversation meant that they had to stand back to back, each holding his mirror so as to see over his shoulder into the other person’s mirror. He did not actually get to look directly into the man’s face, but rather he was seeing a reflection of a reflection of the man talking to him.

After several days of orienting himself, Lacuna started working shining mirrors on a street corner for pocket change. He polished mirrors for the Mirror People who were busily going to and fro in the great city. He also found a cheap rooming house that he could afford, and spent his days working hard and wondering what his future would bring.

“I’m happy to be here,” he thought to himself as he shined an old woman’s mirror, “and I know this is better than the Great Swamp of Ink, but it isn’t what I expected at all.” His thoughts circled around in his mind like seagulls over a low tide, but they would not perch at a conclusion. He was not happy, nor was he entirely sad; he was puzzled.

“You’re awfully quiet there, young man.”

The old woman’s voice caught Lacuna’s attention. He looked up at her: she was a dignified-looking woman, and she sat in the little chair he had set up for customers, her eyes closed as he was busy polishing her mirror.

“I was just thinking about the Kingdom,” he said to the woman. “I’m still trying to get used to these mirrors, to tell you the truth, ma’am.”

“Don’t you worry about it, youngster,” she said kindly. He could hear in her voice that she cared and understood how he felt. “It might take a while, but you’ll get the hang of it. Soon you’ll barely notice that you have that mirror. It becomes like a friend after awhile.”

“I still don’t understand why we have to have them at all,” he said.

“Now, that kind of talk is foolishness,” the old woman retorted. “It’s just the way things are. The King wants it that way, and this is the Northern Kingdom, right? There’s no point in not understanding something as simple as that.”

When he finished polishing her mirror, Lacuna put it into her hands. She opened her eyes and examined how well he had cleaned the glass and, satisfied, reached into her purse to pay him. Her eyes, in the angle of her mirror, fixed on the skeleton key crutch-axe which lay at Lacuna’s side. He had gotten into the habit of carrying it around with him wherever he went.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s a crutch. And an axe, sort of.” He realized that he wasn’t very sure what to call it. “It’s mine,” he offered finally.

“It’s pretty,” said the old woman. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s unusual. I bet you could make an interesting costume for the Festival around something that unusual.”

“What festival?” Lacuna asked.

“What do you mean, ‘What festival?’
The
Festival. Only the biggest event of the year. You really must not be from around here. Once a year we have a celebration called the Festival of the Aurora Borealis. The great Aurora Borealis comes out and lights up the whole sky above the Kingdom. It’s an unbelievably dazzling light show, and everyone wears strange and unique costumes for the occasion. We all look up into the sky and at midnight the Aurora Borealis arrives in all its glory. The Festival is only a month and a half away. You watch, business will pick up around the time before the Festival. Everyone will be getting their mirrors polished so they can see the lights best.”

With that, the woman paid Lacuna, thanked him, and went on her way.

For the next few nights, he found it difficult to sleep. Thoughts circled in his head like his hand circled with its cloth when he polished someone’s mirror. He realized that since he had come to the Northern Kingdom he had barely spoken to a Mirrorless Person, and the only Mirror People he knew were those he met as he worked. Amazingly, he still felt lonely even though he was surrounded by people. He hated carrying his mirror around all day, and it took all his patience to keep from smashing it every time he thought about how foolish it all seemed. He wondered if he would go on forever at this job, living in a tiny room, and feeling alone. But the Festival of the Aurora Borealis was something to look forward to. Surely the Aurora Borealis would be at least as beautiful as Polaris. Lacuna wondered if he should really make a costume using the skeleton key crutch-axe as the old woman had suggested. Perhaps he would dress up as the Border Guard. He thought that it would be such a pity that he and all the Mirror People would have to watch the Aurora Borealis through these stupid mirrors. He had had the experience of witnessing Polaris up close with his own eyes, and he didn’t realize what a privilege that had been until this moment.

With these disjointed thoughts spinning in his head, Lacuna drifted off to sleep.

The Festival of the Aurora Borealis

He woke abruptly out of a startling dream, and immediately opened his eyes by reflex; instantly, the pain rushed in. He groped for his mirror, which lay beside the bed, and looked into it. By the time the mirror was safely in front of his eyes, he realized that he had already forgotten his dream.

Later in the day, while polishing an accountant’s mirror, Lacuna suddenly remembered what his dream had been about.

He had dreamt of a vast sheet of ice. Lacuna wore a pair of skates and glided effortlessly across the ice. He felt as if he were flying; he felt just as he did when Polaris carried him through the air out of the Great Swamp of Ink. Lacuna skated in large figure-eights, looping a broad curve, then arcing back across his previous path. His skates cut a massive figure into the ice that looked like this:

He skated and skated around and around on the ice. That was all.

When he remembered this dream, Lacuna stopped still in his polishing. An idea had finally come to him.

With his mirror, he looked up at the accountant sitting in the customer’s chair; the accountant wore a pair of wire-rim glasses. Lacuna quickly checked his pockets to see how much money he had on him. He handed the accountant back his mirror, so that they could see each other.

“Listen, sir,” Lacuna said, “can I buy those glasses from you? I’ll give you this.” He held out a week’s earnings to the accountant.

The accountant frowned and looked at the money, then back at Lacuna.

“That’s a lot of money. Why would you want to buy my glasses? If your eyesight is bothering you, you ought to go to the optometrist. You need to get glasses that work for you specifically. They’re unique that way, you know.”

Lacuna shook his head and thrust the money at the accountant.

“No, no, I don’t need them for that. Please take my money, it’s more than enough to buy a new pair. I just need your glasses right now.”

“Are you feeling alright?” the accountant said suspiciously. None of this made sense to him, and, after all, he had only wanted his mirror shined.

Lacuna was getting impatient and blurted out, “Look, I’m fine, I’m fine. Will you please sell me your glasses right away? Please? I mean, if you don’t want the money, I’ll find someone else.”

The accountant was reluctant, but he knew that the money was enough to buy a newer and better pair, and he really didn’t care much if a crazy mirror polisher wanted to throw his money away on foolish things. He took the money, and gave Lacuna his glasses, but waited around to see what this crazy mirror polisher was going to do with them.

Lacuna took the accountant’s glasses and immediately smashed the lenses out of them. The accountant shook his head, certain now that the poor boy had lost his mind. But then Lacuna carefully picked all the glass out of the frames of the spectacles until there was nothing but the wire rims. He lay his own mirror on the ground and picked up the skeleton key crutch-axe, which was at his side as always. He paused for a moment, remembering that the Border Guard had said the skeleton key crutch-axe was the sharpest blade in the whole world. He carefully pressed the blade of the axe against the glass of his mirror and cut out a small circle. The blade sliced easily through the glass, as easily as if he were dipping it into water. He gently lifted up the small circle of mirror and fitted it into one of the frames of the wire rims. The accountant watched speechlessly, and a small crowd began to gather. Lacuna put the small circle of mirror into the frame so that the mirror faced inward. Then he put on the glasses. His left eye stared directly into the mirror, while his right eye scanned the crowd, the buildings, and the sky directly; there was no pain because he had not broken eye contact with the piece of mirror with one eye, while his other eye was free to see the world plain.