2. The Eye in the Sky

Bailey was on his way to work when he first saw it. Over the brick smokestack, as blistering as the sun, the eye in the sky. He stopped and stared up. The eye stared back, pulsing, watching. Bailey was on his way to the factory he worked in. Around him on the sidewalk were other workers. It was nearly time for the shift change.

He grabbed the arm of a man passing on his right. “Do you see that?” He pointed into the air.

The man frowned. “See what?”

Was he kidding? “That thing in the sky.”

“It’s called the sun.”

“That’s not-” Bailey stopped talking. Something else was happening.

I see you. a voice came into his mind.

Bailey put his hands on his skull.

“You’re going to be late for work.” said the man he had been talking to. He walked away, toward the factory.

You don’t need him. the voice said.

“Who are you?” Bailey said aloud.

You know who. The eye burned down at him.

Bailey turned around and began running towards the boarding house where he rented a room. He felt like a salmon swimming upstream as he pushed his way through the throng of factory workers coming in for the next shift.

Mrs. Johnson’s boarding house was just a head. Bailey raced towards it. The eye was at his back, watching him. He ran up the front steps and onto the porch. He stopped in front of the door and fished in his pocket for the key.

Hurry up. the eye said.

Bailey’s heart raced. His fingers finally found the brass key. He yanked it from his pocket and jammed it into the lock. Despite his fingers shaking he managed to unlock the door. He went inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

Mrs. Johnson came into the hallway. “Bailey, you should be at work.”

“I’m not well.”

“I can see that. Maybe you should-”

Bailey didn’t bother waiting to hear the rest. He ran upstairs. He unlocked his room and went inside. He sat on the end of his bed and tried to breathe. He was safe now. That thing, whatever it was, couldn’t get to him in here.

He laid back and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe this was a dream. Maybe if he closed his eyes he would wake up and find it was just his imagination playing tricks on him.

I’m waiting out here for you.

Bailey told himself that he didn’t hear that.

I can still see you. Come to the window.

Bailey opened his eyes and sat up. It wasn’t a dream. He stared at the window. The white lace curtain held back the light from the sun, or the eye, or both.

Come on. the voice in his head urged.

It compelled his body to move, or perhaps it just seemed that way. He got to his feet and went to the window, pushing aside the curtain. It was there, above the smokestack, staring down at him.

“What do you want?” he cried.

Just your loyalty.

“What are you?”

A friend.

Bailey turned away from the window. He felt tired, exhausted really. He stretched out on his bed, not bothering to remove his shoes.

Yes, sleep.

Bailey did as he was told. He slept long and deeply. When he woke the room was bright. The smell of bacon and toasted bread hung in the air. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was relieved to be awake. He had had a strange dream. A horrible dream. It had all been so real.

He got out of bed and parted the curtains. The sky was blue and clear. There was nothing staring down at him. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday. They were rumpled and creased. No matter. It had all been a dream.

He hurried downstairs. Mrs. Johnson and her maid Sadie were busy serving breakfast to the tenants. “Good morning.” he said cheerily.

The other tenants, people he had known for several years, didn’t look up. They didn’t even seem to notice his presence. They stared at their plates as they fed themselves. Sadie had a similar expression as she circled the table.

“They’ve been like this since last night.” Mrs. Johnson said. She put her platter of bacon on the table.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“You know what’s wrong. You saw it yesterday.”

Bailey’s pulse started up. “I didn’t see anything.”

Mrs. Johnson shook her head. “Yes you did. It was in the sky yesterday.”

He moved his mouth but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say. He barely knew what to think.

“It comes every few years. I first saw it when I was a girl.” Mrs. Johnson told him. “You’re lucky. You’ll be spared from now on.”

His blood pressure increased. “Spared from what?”

“It comes to feed.”

“On us.” Bailey said, already knowing the truth. He felt as though the answers were all there, in his mind.

“Yes. It takes their memories. They just think they’re getting forgetful. They wonder why the past seems fuzzy. It’s because of the eye.”

Bailey’s stomach soured. There were dozens of things he could no longer remember. Memories that were little more than fragments. He had chocked it up to getting older.

“They won’t take anything from you anymore.”

He slipped into a chair next to his neighbor who was mindlessly shoveling eggs into his mouth. “I heard it in my head yesterday.”

“Yes, you’ll hear it again when it comes back.”

“When will that be?”

She shrugged. “When it’s hungry for more.”

“Why me?”

“I told it to choose you.”

“Why?”

“It was time for me to pass on my duties, you’re as good as anyone else.”

Bailey suddenly had a bad feeling. “To do your duties?”

“Yes. You’ll pick the next meals.”

“No.” There was no way he was doing that.

“You’ll have to start looking for the people with the richest memories. Give them to the eye when it returns. If you’ve done a good enough job you can make someone else do it.” She smiled sadly as she looked around the room. “It took almost my whole life, but I finally got my freedom. How long will it take you?”