I was thinking about how we view ugliness. How do we judge what is beautiful, what is ugly? Can one exist without the other?
"The Ugliest Thing" was first published in The Dark Kyrpt.
"People have liberated death camps and continued to live normal lives. People have witnessed death, starvation, and disease and went on. But this photograph..." The old man shook his head, sighing. "Psychologically, it’s like watching your little daughter tortured; the mind breaks."
Downie leaned forward in his chair. He pushed his spectacles up his nose. "But what could be so horrible? According to what you’ve told me, there should be nothing out there but vacuum and some asteroids."
The old man sighed again and passed a hand through his wispy hair. "I wish I could answer you, doctor. God help me, I wish I could. But our telescope photographed something out there, something so horrible it turns people into quivering, frightened mutes."
Downie leaned back slowly, blowing out his breath. "Professor," he said, "you need a neurologist for this one, not a psychiatrist. Whatever you photographed must be some... optical illusion, something so powerful it burns the brain."
The old astronomer shook his head. "No optical illusion, Dr. Downie. There is something horrible in that photograph. Those who viewed it managed to whisper ‘How ugly’ before becoming catatonic."
Downie swallowed. Suddenly the room felt cold. He had seen photographs of Nazi medical experiments. He had met people burnt beyond recognition. He had helped children with no limbs. What could possibly be worse...?
Then he decided: nothing. Nothing could be worse than what he had seen in his work. These astronomers spent their lives looking at stars; they were unaccustomed to ugliness. But he, Dr. David Downie, had been inured.
He stood up. "Let me see this photograph," he said.
The old man nearly fell over.
"Are you mad?" The professor rose to his feet. "It can destroy you."
Downie smiled thinly. "I am a psychiatrist, professor. It is my job to deal with trauma. Now, if I am to help these people, I must view the photograph."
"I cannot allow it!" the old man said, his mouth opening and closing like a fish’s. "You would be crippling yourself."
But Downie was already walking toward the far table, where the photograph lay in a box. "I have never shied away from anything, professor. Not if it can help my patients. It is my job to learn what frightens them, and I will do so here, as well."
"But this is no earthly horror!" the professor called behind, shuffling forward with his cane. Downie, however, was already opening the box.
"Stand back, professor," he said coolly. "You might not want to see this."
Before his curiosity and courage could desert him, Downie reached into the box and pulled out the photograph.
He stared silently.
It was a photograph of a woman. A young woman, perhaps twenty years old. A woman? In outer space? Could this be the right photo? Then Downie noticed something odd. The woman had wings. And a halo. Downie wanted to laugh--just a girl in a Halloween costume--but instead, his breath died. He looked into the woman’s eyes. Deep, blue green. Pure. Perfect.
Oh, God.
Downie fell to the floor. His hands dug into the paper. The woman claimed him. He could see only those green eyes, her pink lips, her cream skin and golden hair. So beautiful...
The professor’s cane hit Downie’s hands. The photograph flew away, and the professor tossed his coat over it. Downie felt as if his soul had been wrenched from his body. He made a hoarse sound like a wounded animal.
"Doctor!" the professor cried. He was shaking Downie. "Doctor, look at me!"
Downie looked at him. He looked at the wrinkles. The white nose hairs. The pores. The crooked teeth. Then, in horror, he looked at his own hands, saw all his imperfections, the lines and dry skin, each flaw a mountain after the pureness he had seen.
"So ugly..." he whispered, then shut his eyes, fell over, and hit his head against the imperfect world he could never view again.
Standing above him, the old astronomer shook his head, shed a tear, and closed his eyes. Tomorrow he would cancel the space program. For now, he lifted the photograph, pulled out his lighter, and brought the two together.
Modern Mythology is a collection of fifteen imaginative stories having mythological themes and also possessing interesting mythological allusions and characters.
