Amanda Zapata, “Rose Colored Glasses”

ROSE COLORED GLASSES

Amanda Zapata

Roses were always my favorite flowers. They are a symbol of love and harmony in the world. They represent the idea that love transcends death, resurrection, and rebirth. Such delicate flowers shouldn’t exist in a cruel world such as ours. It’s the reason why I volunteered to get the brain chip. The implant will alter my vision to censor everything I find uncomfortable to look at. I won’t have to worry about bloody noses or horror movies ever again! The problem was telling my loved ones about it. They would never understand my reasoning behind it. I decided to tell my best friend first, two days before the operation. Their reactions were worse than I had anticipated. It felt like decades had gone during the five seconds of stillness. Mangiano was the first to speak up. “Are you serious, Anastasia?” His tone was cold. Harsh. It sent shivers down my spine. “The operation is in two days. If it goes well I—” “And what if it doesn’t? You’re going to permanently alter your vision! This could destroy your brain!” I sighed. I knew this would happen, but I didn’t expect his reaction to be this severe. I stood silent for a moment, before responding and ending the conversation. “It’s too late to back out. This chip will help me. One day, you’ll be asking for one too.”

* * * * * I felt like I had a migraine. I knew I was in a hospital room; I could hear the heart monitor beeping. Why wouldn’t my eyes focus? Why was everything a pink haze? Panic started to rise

and I felt a lump in my throat before I heard the nurse speak. “Ms. Aumerle?” I felt myself fading out of consciousness. I wanted to speak, to scream for help, but I couldn’t move. I felt like a prisoner within my own body. I had no other choice but to succumb to the numb feeling as I listened to the nurse call for help. I woke up hours later, the paralyzing feeling replaced with sweat. My eyes burned. As I scanned the room, I noticed that everything had a pink hue to it. My vision felt weaker; I could barely see the door. It had to be at most ten feet away from me. I stared at the IV in my arm, wiggling my fingers curiously. Fearfully. I was so intrigued with the vision adjustment that I didn’t notice the nurse returning to my room. “Ms. Aumerle, We ran some neurological tests while you were unconscious and determined that your brain is functioning properly. How do you feel?” “I feel alright.” I don’t know why, but I didn’t feel the need to tell the nurse about the visual color shift. I felt superior. I have modified myself to censor malicious things from my vision. I felt different. Immediately when I was released from the lab, I noticed how peculiar my vision was. The censored notions became a darker, heavier shade of pink; Almost a magenta. I felt like thorns had been removed by my stem, leaving my petals to sit and exist blissfully.

* * * * * It’s been a month since my operation. I’ve noticed “little” glitches in the chip. Sometimes I’ll wake up unable to see my hands, the magenta color blocking them from sight. It was a mild inconvenience at first. The glitches have been more apparent recently. I didn’t want to admit that Magiano was right. I enjoyed my blood-free life, but I couldn’t deal with the vision obscurities anymore. I tried to live peacefully as much as I could. I couldn’t even see myself in the mirror properly. I felt

like I was going crazy. I needed this chip out of my brain immediately. The company that did the procedure in the first place refused to remove it. I felt trapped within my own body. I knew there was only one option left. I would be taking another deadly risk for some peace. I wouldn’t be able to see it, anyway. A rose won’t always maintain its beauty, right?

276

GRADE 10

Memoirs

278