Apparent Appearances
| Posted in Fiction, Light, Physics, short story, Water | Posted on 6:08 PM
0
I was five years old.
Dad had another one of his corporate pool parties, where people who were used to wearing suits and ties took them off to be hanging out in colorful shorts.
Like I said, I was five years old, so I have a very faint memory of what had happened. I don't recall the whole day in its entirety but the faded scenes of what had happened have often kept me awake for minutes; if not hours.
I was standing by the pool, admiring the beauty of the reflected light, or the ripples . Or well, at least I'd like to imagine so. I must've seen the depth of the pool and thought it wasn't much, because the next thing I clearly remember doing is jumping in.
Somebody brought to the notice of my parents that their son was drowning. Dad saved my tiny butt and breathed life into me, quite literally. He told me later he'd thanked God for getting me out just in time; a minute later and I might not have come out alive. Mom, of course, was hyperventilating till I'd started breathing, but that was only because she was cursing herself for not having an eye on me. Mothers, right?
I don't recall most of what was running in my mind that night, but I do remember thinking about water. And drowning. And betrayal. I don't even know how I'd come up with it, to be fairly honest. I thought that water was my friend, and that it was harmless; but by attempting to take my life it had proved itself otherwise. The other thing that I still couldn't get into my head was how it was so bloody deep. It looked shallow; good enough for me jump into. It probably seems too much for a five year old to remember, but some things just aren't forgotten...
A decade and numerous physics classes later I'd learnt the truth about the sonovabitch water in the swimming pool: The depth of the pool wasn't real at all; it was apparent. It was basic physics: When light travels from an optically denser medium to an optically rarer medium, it bends away from the normal. So, what we see really is the apparent depth and not the real depth.
And that was when I'd realized something; and boy did it hit me hard. It was a moment of exceptional clarity and I had finally understood the apparency of appearances - whether they be of things or people.
I learned to look beyond the aesthetic value.
I learned to trust only those who were worthy of it.
I learned to appreciate what's on the inside...
And I learned the whole goddamned chapter of Light.
But such is the irony of life. You talk of the sun, the moon, the stars... and everything's apparent. But you talk of big fat physics books, and everything's just too fucking real.
-X-x-X-
Disclaimer: Fiction.
Like you didn't know that.
Dad had another one of his corporate pool parties, where people who were used to wearing suits and ties took them off to be hanging out in colorful shorts.
Like I said, I was five years old, so I have a very faint memory of what had happened. I don't recall the whole day in its entirety but the faded scenes of what had happened have often kept me awake for minutes; if not hours.
I was standing by the pool, admiring the beauty of the reflected light, or the ripples . Or well, at least I'd like to imagine so. I must've seen the depth of the pool and thought it wasn't much, because the next thing I clearly remember doing is jumping in.
Somebody brought to the notice of my parents that their son was drowning. Dad saved my tiny butt and breathed life into me, quite literally. He told me later he'd thanked God for getting me out just in time; a minute later and I might not have come out alive. Mom, of course, was hyperventilating till I'd started breathing, but that was only because she was cursing herself for not having an eye on me. Mothers, right?
I don't recall most of what was running in my mind that night, but I do remember thinking about water. And drowning. And betrayal. I don't even know how I'd come up with it, to be fairly honest. I thought that water was my friend, and that it was harmless; but by attempting to take my life it had proved itself otherwise. The other thing that I still couldn't get into my head was how it was so bloody deep. It looked shallow; good enough for me jump into. It probably seems too much for a five year old to remember, but some things just aren't forgotten...
A decade and numerous physics classes later I'd learnt the truth about the sonovabitch water in the swimming pool: The depth of the pool wasn't real at all; it was apparent. It was basic physics: When light travels from an optically denser medium to an optically rarer medium, it bends away from the normal. So, what we see really is the apparent depth and not the real depth.
And that was when I'd realized something; and boy did it hit me hard. It was a moment of exceptional clarity and I had finally understood the apparency of appearances - whether they be of things or people.
I learned to look beyond the aesthetic value.
I learned to trust only those who were worthy of it.
I learned to appreciate what's on the inside...
And I learned the whole goddamned chapter of Light.
But such is the irony of life. You talk of the sun, the moon, the stars... and everything's apparent. But you talk of big fat physics books, and everything's just too fucking real.
-X-x-X-
Like you didn't know that.
