SCIENCE FICTION | SPECULATIVE FICTION

Look Away

A flash fiction story

It’s been three weeks since I disconnected from the eye-tracking software. The fees and advertisements were just too much. Now, I see all the ugly things I had only heard about.

I didn’t think I would use the word ugly. I didn’t think that I would see them as unappealing.

I thought my gaze would fix on the dark beauty in the world. I thought I would focus on black grit as charcoal shading, red blood as a vibrant indicator of life, and expressions of pain as an invitation for compassion.

Instead, I look away.

I look away from the person using a chain-linked fence as a one-walled home. I look away from the bloated squirrel on the side of the road. I look away from the single mother I’ve been instructed to lay off.

I didn’t think one’s eye muscles could ache so much from looking away. The online chat doctor says it’s normal for my eyes to hurt after disconnecting — “acquired gaze aversion” was the term used. It told me that the pain should subside as my neuromuscular junctions strengthen, which will coincide with the habit of looking away.

I’ll take some ibuprofen and give it a few more days. Maybe if I re-initiate the program, I’ll pay for the upgrade to avoid the advertisements. It would be nice if my viewscape auto-populated with only the things I want to see.

Story note: After reading a primary literature article about eye-tracking software, I found myself imagining a scenario in which a subscription-based service curates the images we see. “Look Away” was the outcome.