John could not be sure exactly when he became invisible. He had felt invisible for some time: waiting to pay at the shop counter and being bypassed repeatedly as pushier people caught the eye of the shop girl; or being soaked as the bus sailed past on a wet day, ignoring his outstretched arm and drenching him in the process. But he was pretty sure those were just innocent events, a combination of an overcrowded city and his gentle, patient manner.
But then one morning, quite early, he turned up at the mall when it was due to open and the sliding doors refused to open. He stepped back, puzzled, and as the next shopper stepped forward, the doors slid back. He decided that perhaps he had arrived just before the doors were unlocked and put it out of his mind.
So imagine his surprise when he tried to leave the mall, but again the doors stubbornly refused to open. He stepped back, looked for the sensor and re-approached the doors directly in line; nothing. Glancing behind him, he saw an elderly lady approaching, so he stood slightly to one side; as she came up to the doors, they slid open, he stepped outside, and on a whim, turned back as the doors re-closed. Slowly and deliberately, he stepped up to the doors: but they did not open. He waved his arms above his head: nothing. Mystified, he stepped back, and a schoolgirl came up to the doors which slid open quietly and efficiently, releasing a blast of warm air. After they had closed again, he tried one last time, walking firmly up to the doors: which did not budge.
It was a dismal, cold morning. His brow furrowed, he set off around the town square, hands in pockets, and thinking furiously. He had purchased a book in the mall, but without making eye contact, he recalled with a start; he had joined a queue, slid the book and cash along the counter, and taken his bagged purchase when it was held out, the assistant’s eyes already focussed on the next purchaser. The mall doors had ignored him, twice; and now here he was, just drifting with the crowd. He stopped, suddenly, and someone bumped into him, murmuring an absent-minded apology and stepping past. Clearly he needed to conduct a proper experiment of some kind, just as he had with the doors. He thought of checking that he had a shadow but the black sky precluded that. Ha: his reflection! He turned to the nearest shop window, an electrical goods shop as it happened. To his relief (goodness, I really am stupid, he thought; or possibly losing my mind?), there was his anxious reflection looking back at him. But just as that wave of faintly embarrassed relief washed over him, his heart sank anew. Behind his reflection was the usual bank of TV screens in the window, all displaying the crowds jostling past on the foot path: but he was not in any of the pictures.
But then one morning, quite early, he turned up at the mall when it was due to open and the sliding doors refused to open. He stepped back, puzzled, and as the next shopper stepped forward, the doors slid back. He decided that perhaps he had arrived just before the doors were unlocked and put it out of his mind.
So imagine his surprise when he tried to leave the mall, but again the doors stubbornly refused to open. He stepped back, looked for the sensor and re-approached the doors directly in line; nothing. Glancing behind him, he saw an elderly lady approaching, so he stood slightly to one side; as she came up to the doors, they slid open, he stepped outside, and on a whim, turned back as the doors re-closed. Slowly and deliberately, he stepped up to the doors: but they did not open. He waved his arms above his head: nothing. Mystified, he stepped back, and a schoolgirl came up to the doors which slid open quietly and efficiently, releasing a blast of warm air. After they had closed again, he tried one last time, walking firmly up to the doors: which did not budge.
It was a dismal, cold morning. His brow furrowed, he set off around the town square, hands in pockets, and thinking furiously. He had purchased a book in the mall, but without making eye contact, he recalled with a start; he had joined a queue, slid the book and cash along the counter, and taken his bagged purchase when it was held out, the assistant’s eyes already focussed on the next purchaser. The mall doors had ignored him, twice; and now here he was, just drifting with the crowd. He stopped, suddenly, and someone bumped into him, murmuring an absent-minded apology and stepping past. Clearly he needed to conduct a proper experiment of some kind, just as he had with the doors. He thought of checking that he had a shadow but the black sky precluded that. Ha: his reflection! He turned to the nearest shop window, an electrical goods shop as it happened. To his relief (goodness, I really am stupid, he thought; or possibly losing my mind?), there was his anxious reflection looking back at him. But just as that wave of faintly embarrassed relief washed over him, his heart sank anew. Behind his reflection was the usual bank of TV screens in the window, all displaying the crowds jostling past on the foot path: but he was not in any of the pictures.