How to Love a Rabbit
There were a number of things that shaped who Simra was. The most important was that she knew how to love a rabbit.
She moved her fingers so that the lens bent. “Nearsightedness has its advantages. Your daughter may not be able to see as well from a distance, but up close, she actually sees better than people who have ‘perfect’ vision.” Iynaara moved her fingers in the other direction, indenting the lens vertically. “Farsightedness has its advantages as well: Objects in a distance are more developed compared to the work of the spherical eye. The problem everyone has with near- and farsightedness is that objects seen from one distance are clearer than with spherical lenses, but below average from the other. It’s not really a flaw; it’s a different way of focusing light.”
“Prescriptions by no means fix the eye. Rather, they alter the path of light into the eye. Our community, our ecological network, is structured to necessitate the spherical lens. If it were all built differently—to favor, say, farsightedness—it would be those with spherical lenses who wore glasses. Ms. Sang,” she said, “nothing is good or bad unless you make it that way.”
Iynaara gazed at the child. “Let’s take you home.”
Slowly, the three of them walked under the moon, faint in the afternoon sun.
More in this series
“Yes, there are still whales, there are still haddock, crabs, seals. Their hearts beat, muscle and sinew unaltered by steel scale or steam-powered fins. For now, anyway.”