The Oculus

In a small tribe, 50,000 years ago, Oculus, a young primitive male, starts to become hungry. Grrrghh Oculus becomes frustrated with his hunger because last night he had finished eating all his berries, but what was even more frustrating was that his brother, Brooder, ate the last piece of turtle meat that Oculus had been faithfully saving. 

So, sulking and dwelling on his misfortune, Oculus starts smearing some dark dye on the cave floor drawing, which can only be called menacing and wrathful stick figures. Suddenly, the young man hears familiar footsteps. Tap Tap Oculus immediately begins to lay on his side and continues smearing paint on the floor with his fingers. 

“Oocuuluss,” a deep primitive male voice calls out.

Oculus ignores the voice and continues his perilous drawings.

“Broodeerr is sorry, Oocuuluss” the same boy, now standing by Oculus feet, utters.

Sadly, Oculus gives no response to Brooder, giving him the primordial cold shoulders. Brooder sits down in front of Oculus, with the hostile and threatening painting separating them. Oculus glares at his older brother who has the most apologetic look on his face. This pains Oculus and he starts to feel bad for ignoring his brother. 

That is until, Oculus sees that his brother has a hand behind his back. Oculus grunts and continues his treacherous stick figures.
Seeing his little brother's sorrow, along with his woeful and cryptic drawings, Brooder takes his hand from behind his back and presents something on the palm of his hand to Oculus. 

Oculus stops and observes the objects. With some quick but reflective evaluation, Oculus takes the flower and the three dead caterpillars. Brooder gleefully smiles at the acceptance of his apology, “Hrr Hrr woo woo,” the brute remarks. 

The younger of the two stands up and starts walking to the hollow opening, and the older one follows him. And so both brothers exit out the cave leaving the savage stick figures behind.

Outside the cave, the sun is shining and the birds are getting hunted by the young primitive children. The elders are conversing, and the men and women are undoubtedly performing their daily tasks. A beautiful day.   

The two brothers went to where their friends had been gathering for the morning's hunt. Stretching their limbs, some examining their weapons, some chattering as the older ones checked for the attendance and arranged the party.

Soon enough, the departure time had come, Oculus picked up his tool and started along with his companions to their hunt. Each primitive held their tool near, searching for any signs of food with flesh and blood. 

By and by, Oculus fell off behind the group as he watched the scenery around him. He thought how excellent the light shone through the leaves, how grating the trunk of the trees looked in contrast to the lush and soft leaves. He saw tiny creatures; some seemed to be made of thin, hard bones—smaller than the one of the wildebeest, gazelles, and deers that they hunted and ate. Some of these little creatures were as complexly designed and created, while some others looked like mush and lacked any discernible form, carrying an odd build. The boy realized he had fallen back and picked up his pace—until something caught his eyes from his peripheral vision and slowed down.  

Rustling in the bush, Oculus thought he saw something move. He carefully approached the bush with steady eyes. Right as he got close to the bush, he raised his spear and brought it down right through the leaves. Disappointedly, Oculus felt nothing being caught by the spear. Frustrated, he racked the bush. 

Thud Thud 

Oculus stopped and listened carefully, then he hit the bush again. Thud Thud Oculus stepped back and looked behind his back. No one was there. He looked at the bush then turned back to the regular hunting path to join back with his companions. As he walked along the path he could feel his heart, thump thump thump, beating against his chest. With a quick sharp turn Oculus ran back to the bush and hit the bush with his spear, 

THUD THUD THUD

Then he stopped and carefully reached out to the bush to make way for himself. A bright light obscured Oculus' vision. He blocked his eyes with his arm and started blinking. He took a step back and then removed his arm from his eyes.

Giants. Giants that touched the sky. Giants that didn’t look like they were made of flesh and bones. They were glossy and smooth colossuses that the almighty sun reflected its light on. There were multiple giants whose height varied from each other but they were all gigantic. Immense. Huge. Monstrous. They didn’t look like any living creature Oculus had ever seen. The giants didn’t look alive at all, they were so still; had so much alignment in their figure; lacked basic features all animals need for survival; no eyes to see, no nostrils to breathe from, no mouth to that needed feeding, no ears to pick up sounds. These beasts looked formidable with their lack of softness, and vulnerability that all animals possess. They lacked all and any signs of mortality. These giants had no cuts or scars as Oculus did on his hands and legs. 

An idea occurred to him that they didn’t bleed. Impossible, how can any living creature not bleed? Oculus thought. The red liquid that follows in all creatures is a sign of vitality, of life. Yet, how have these beasts grown so large, to such stature with no sign of life in them? He tried to poke his spear into the oval opening in front of him,

Tut tut 

But there was a barrier and he couldn't get through. In the blink of an eye the image changed and there were people in clothes that had complex details and were of the smoothest light colors, who were moving around inside the beautiful light-colored and smoother trees with no heads, and walls with as much complex details. 

For a long time Oculus watched the image change. He was enthralled as he saw empires rise and collapse; he saw technology heal and destroy; he saw people with malice and people with kindness; he saw chaos and he saw peace; and although he didn’t understand all of it, he understood those people in there were like him. Oculus felt his heart squeeze and emotions grow intensely. He tried to touch the hollow opening but he drew his hand back. Through it all, all he could do was cheer, sneer, grieve, applaud, and erupt with a range of emotions for them.

Finally, Oculus snapped out of his transfixion; he looked around, looked at the sky and the sun that was blocked by clouds, and the trees that surrounded him. He headed back to his tribe, leaving the strange glowing opening behind.

Few of his mates huddled around him asking if he brought anything back. Oculus shook his head. They told him of how they had managed to catch a frenzied boar and thought that he, Oculus, had been taken hostage by the boar's family and tried looking for him. During this Oculus was half listening to his friends ramble on, nodding and grunting in the few intervals when they looked at him for response. Truthfully, Oculus didn’t really want to hear about this tedious hunt of some meager animal. 

As the time approached midday, Oculus had a meal with his tribe people; there were sounds of slurping, biting, some tools clattering, and some people chattering. He watched his friends blissfully eating their meals. Oculus remembered what he had seen through the opening, people sitting around a large wood with a variety of delicious looking food; he had seen people sitting at smaller circular tables with small round cloths on top of their heads munching on strange items. Just like this as Oculus went about his day he started to compare the people around him with the ones he had seen through the opening. 

Their hair, of the people he saw earlier, looked as if they would forever smell of flowers, and their skin looked as if it had been dipped in honey, and their teeth had the quality of never having to have had champed on several bones. The caves that those people lived in seemed to be extraordinary. They had holes in their luminous caves which were covered by firm water, and which were all the same size—this amused Oculus; how had they been able to find the right fit for everything? They had even managed to tame large birds! Although Oculus had never seen creatures so large, it had excited him that those people had somehow tamed the birds, carved them—while still managing to have them take flight. Impressively, also, they had a precise system and organization for everyone to take turns. They had done this with the beatles too, of course the young primitive had never seen insects so large roaming the land, but he was impressed the taming of such large insects, too, as much as the birds had been impressive because he never imagined little creatures such as the birds and beetles could grow so large—only that he heard about them in tales from the older boys. He had realized how everything was unfathomable, they were so much more grand, advanced, and untouchable, nothing like he had ever seen before. 

After having some time to himself Oculus went inside his cave to use the dyes but it had gotten too dark inside the cave to be able to make anything. So Oculus took some of his dye and went out the cave, and he started smearing a dye outside the cave wall. He tried his best, whatever he could do to try to replicate what he had witnessed earlier. He drew tall rectangle shapes. He drew people who looked otherworldly, which he tried his best to convey through stick figures. He drew scary and mechanical birds that soar above the sky and some of them even shot fire. Eventually, his friends started to gather around him trying to figure out what he was doing, his brother being the first of them. Guesses, like terrifying animals caught by thick prickly spears, descriptions of strange birds, and some very deep lot-of-nothing interpretations, flew out. One of them had guessed that the drawings were fish swimming on monkeys. 

Oculus grew frustrated with their misinterpreted guesses and marched out of the little congregation that had formed. 

  On a hill, Brooder had found his little brother sitting under a sloping tree, staring unwittingly somewhere afar. He waved his hands in front of his little brother’s face which made Oculus frown and swatted away his brother's hand. Boorder started digging the ground with his hide covered feet and started to circle his legs making the dip more prominent. 

“Oocuuluss, mad?” boorder asked.

Oculus didn’t respond, but his blank stare had seized and he exhaled. 

“We don’t understand why you’re mad, Ocuuluus,” brooder continued shyly.

After a while, Oculus’s temper had subsided and he could understand his brother’s and the others' confusion. If he was them, he wouldn’t have acted any differently. Oculus knew his drawing were just drawings, that there was no way he could have put forth the images he saw before; but he also did not know how else he could explain to them and whether they would even believe him. 

Oculus looked at his brother, and gave him one of the leaves he kept for chewing. The two brothers sat side by side chewing on a leaf, staring into the far horizon. They watched as the clouds drifting by and by. Every once in a while the sun would be hidden behind the clouds and the other moment, it would shine down below. The young primitives were secluded, shaded by the tree branches. 

As Oculus looked at the sky, he tried to look further ahead; forcefully he tried to look past the land and the sky towards something else entirely—he didn’t know what, but he sensed there was more. Of course, there was more! He wasn’t entirely ignorant of the fact that life existed outside his tribe, of the people he knew, so he tried to see that; the life beyond the plains and the small hills, the people, the trees, and the blue, gray hue above. Oculus concentrated really hard to see past what was presented to him. But, alas, he could only see what lay in front of him. 

Through this bit, as Oculus was concerned with his own thoughts—Brooder watched him inconspicuously, with side glances and slight turns of his head.

It had not been long since the two had sat down that Oculus suddenly stood up. Before Brooder could ask him anything, Oculus left in a hurry. 

Oculus had gone no further than the same spot where he had found himself this morning, staring at the same enchantment. He stood in front of the all-seeing opening—vicariously observing events and images as they unfolded—with a spear in his hand. The portal hadn’t disappeared during the time he had left. It still showed curious different things, and had only grown larger.

Tut tut 

Oculus tried to get his spear through the opening. 

THUD THUD THUD

He tried more aggressively. Oculus knitted his eyebrows and then took off a branch from a tree and aimed it at the hole. He missed at first but as he kept trying his aim got better; he kept throwing the branches and nearby rocks at the unmoving portal, but never did the branches and rocks make it through. 

The sky shook and roared, Oculus looked with agitation at the gray clouds and the darkening above. Oculus threw his spear with all his might at the opening, only to have it deflected back on the floor. He found a big rock and hammered it at the unbudging opening. The trees bellowed and a strong wind knocked Oculus, and the heavy rock dropped on his leg. 

Oculus screeched and then bit his tongue. Lifting his head, he could see his red life force oozing out from under the rock from his left leg, the young boy had never seen his own blood come out in such a way. He lay on the floor with heavy breaths, tormented by the huge rock on his leg. Oculus stared right into the sky as the wind and the trees danced in frenzy around him. 

He felt a great wind whirling within him; he felt uncomfortable and unsafe. Oculus felt terror that whatever had been holding the sky would lose its strength and it would come collapsing on his already crushed body. The sky mocked him, so did the wind, and the trees that he had unkindly took their branches from. 

Oculus laid there helpness, but by and by, his mind had slowed down and as he looked up at the sky his breath got more steady. The boy felt some parts of his body move, as if coming alive for the first time with their own autonomy; Oculus felt his arms and legs spasm. The young primitive male lifted his hand to the sky, looking at it as if he noticed it for the first time. He recognized the smear dye on his fingertips and the varied colors on his palm. Oculus became flustered as he remembered how his friends had tried to fruitlessly guess at his drawings that were nowhere near at par with the real images. Then, he brought down his hand to his face. He felt his face, his cheeks, his nose, his temple, and water that had been dripping down from his eyes. 

He brought up his other hand and looked at the colors that had given his hand, what he thought, a lovely and whimsical tone. Oculus brought that hand back down to his face, too, and with both hands he started to experience his face. He felt the ears at both sides of his head; he felt his lips, and then his own hands. 

Oculus moved his hands from his face and stared at the sky again. The gray clouds were still there and the sun had set, but he noticed the wind and the trees had slowed down. The tree leaves gently moved with the soft breeze that tickled the hairs on Oculus’ body.

With an effort, he sat himself up, and with more grunting efforts, shoved the big rock from his leg. Oculus felt enthralled and breathed through his teeth, almost smiling. 

He felt the strain in his legs as he got up. The primitive looked at the opening, then turned to  walk towards the familiar, hunting path.

 Early in the morning, as soon as the children had had their meal, they ran off towards the hunting path following Oculus. They continuously chattered, but once they got off the hunting path and made their way towards the bush, they immediately hushed. Oculus stepped towards the bush and moved the leaves with his hands. His friends eagerly looked through the bushes, and then they saw all the glories of sticks and stones, and a worn out spear.