Did it Work?

The goggles hummed gently as Josiah twisted the finishing piece on. He'd made it through several test runs without the lab catching on fire so this was the first real test. He slipped the goggles on and tightened them with ease then flipped the switch. Immediately, a pinpoint of light flashed before his left eye. It drew closer and closer, burning Josiah's corneas with pure white light. The wooshing of the air went from sounding like a plane taking off to deafening screeching. The room became a cold vortex and Josiah's head burned and spun. He fell to his knees, shielding his face from the void of white. His stomach was a tsunami of soup and his brain was on fire. His lips were murmuring pleas in tongues he couldn't understand.

Suddenly, his ringing ears picked up a rich female voice. "Take them off."

"I can't," he sobbed. "I can't see."

"Stand up."

Josiah stood and felt the goggles slip off his eyes. He blinked but saw nothing but pure white. He felt a hand on his forehead, then his body crumpled. He awoke in his lab alone. Vomit and blood stained the floor and his lab coat. The goggles were shattered in a far corner. A panging headache was ringing in his ears. He lay on the floor, thanking Jesus that the experience was over. Eventually, he managed to stand and fumbled for his journal. The plans were still open, with a blank observation space waiting for him. He stared for several minutes. Bright was the first word he got down. Loud. Pain. He stopped and inspected his shaky handwriting. No one would believe him. He tore the page out halfway and felt something stop him. The future needs to know. He let go of the page and sat in his lab chair, looking at the stained ends of his jacket. The headache was reduced to a dull ringing. His stomach stopped swirling.

What did you see, something asked him. He twirled his pen. There was no discernable answer. All there was was loud whiteness. Pure light. He jotted it down, bit his lip, and skimmed it again. Thunder. The sound of wind from the source. Ezekiel. The last word came from nowhere. He didn't know any Ezekiels. Yet, he dragged his pen under it several times. Ezekiel. That was the key to whatever he just saw. He slipped his jacket off and grabbed some Vesphene to clean the floor. Ezekiel danced in his mind. An Amish name. He hadn't been out to Pennsylvania in some time. Maybe he could go. Maybe getting out of the lab would help him. He'd spent sleepless months on these goggles that shattered in seconds. Days of caffeine-driven report reading and hypothesizing. It's no way to live, he concluded.

He left the Vesphene-soaked paper towels on the floor and sat on his knees in front of it. What had he missed in life while seeking some way to see the unknown? He didn't know but for the first time in years, he wanted to know.