╔═════════════════════════════════════════════╦════════════╦══════════════════╗ ╔═════╗ ║ Cosmic Sunglass Salesman and the Normal Guy ║ 2025 07 26 ║ Fiction, Strange ║ ║ <<< ║ ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════╩════════════╩══════════════════╝ ╚═════╝ ╔════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ║ ║ ║ It wasn't 2002 anymore. The last Eugene remembered himself in, on Earth that is, was at a Stater Bros. next to the entrance of ║ ║ a big freeway. Now he was in the stall of a public restroom. He looks down. He wasn't able to change since 1974. The last ║ ║ complement he remembers involved a random person calling him Napoleon Dynamite. Maybe it was an insult. Anyway, Eugene is in a ║ ║ saturated beige suit with a striped copper and black tie. He felt the top of his head and remembers his beige colored fedora. ║ ║ To his side is a small, black briefcase. It is incredibly light. He opened it and remembered what lay inside of it. One pair ║ ║ of sunglasses. Eugene thinks that maybe this time he would have his answer. ║ ║ ║ ║ Eugene closes his briefcase and opens the stall. It was already unlocked. He walks out of the restroom, and finds himself in a ║ ║ dirty grocery store. He walks out, expecting someone to ask where he came from, but nobody cares. Outside, Eugene sees large ║ ║ buildings in the distance. He is likely in New York. ║ ║ ║ ║ He needs to get into the city. ║ ║ ║ ║ "Taxi! Taxi!" he calls out to a gray car with an orange logo on the side. It reads "RDSHR NOW" and he waits confused at the ║ ║ cryptic message. The car has a sign on top signifying it is a taxi. ║ ║ ║ ║ The car slows down and pulls up to Eugene. The door opens vertically, startling Eugene at first. ║ ║ ║ ║ "Well, are ya' gonna hop in er what?" ║ ║ ║ ║ Eugene steps into the car. ║ ║ ║ ║ "Where to?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Into the city," an uncertain Eugene responds. ║ ║ ║ ║ "'Course." ║ ║ ║ ║ The taxi starts for the city. ║ ║ ║ ║ In the city, Carl walks down the crowded sidewalks of Manhattan. He's making his way back to his apartment. As he stares into ║ ║ his phone, the graphics begin to jitter. Then it crashes and only returns a black screen. Infuriated, he looks around to ║ ║ fixate his eyes on another screen. But an unusual scene twenty feet away catches his attention. ║ ║ ║ ║ "What do you mean you don't know what I mean?" a taxi driver yells, in a gray and orange cab parked in a lucky space next to ║ ║ the sidewalk. ║ ║ ║ ║ "I have the money! Just take it!" responds a distressed voice in the same car, in a slightly out-of-town accent. ║ ║ ║ ║ "Is this some kind of joke?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "How am I supposed to pay with that?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Just get out!" ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl walks towards the cab. A man in a beige-orange suit crawls out of the cab, and sets one foot on the curb just as the taxi ║ ║ driver floors the gas pedal. He stumbles onto the ground. Nobody cares. ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl walks up to Eugene. ║ ║ ║ ║ "What was that?" ║ ║ ║ ║ Eugene abruptly gets up. ║ ║ ║ ║ "He wouldn't take my money!" Eugene exclaims, waiving a thin wad of eighty dollars in Carl's face. ║ ║ ║ ║ "You tried paying with that? Are you serious?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "He started asking me to pay with coins! Ridiculous!" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Coins? What the hell are you on about? You've never heard of 'coin' before?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "What?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Real money– whatever. I don't care what you're on right now." ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl starts walking away. Eugene stands, still puzzled by the whole scene. Then he looks down at his briefcase. He runs ║ ║ towards Carl. ║ ║ ║ ║ "Hey! Hey you! Boy!" Eugene yells as he's running towards Carl. ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl looks back. Terrified of the possibility of a New York meth-head chasing him, he starts running for his apartment. He ║ ║ looks back, seeing Eugene raising his briefcase in the air and pointing at it. He looks too sober to be on crack. Carl slows ║ ║ down and Eugene catches up to him. ║ ║ ║ ║ "Boy, I've got just the thing for you," Eugene tries to pitch his product while catching his breath, "Glasses that show yours ║ ║ and your fellow humans' creations." ║ ║ ║ ║ Eugene opens his briefcase and shows Carl the unremarkable pair of sunglasses. ║ ║ ║ ║ "What the hell are you on?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Okay. I'll admit I don't know what I'm selling. I've been on this job for decades." ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl, now unconvinced this man is entirely sober, asks, "Decades? You've been a… salesman for decades?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Last I can remember was 1958." ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl pauses, "Okay, what's your angle? Where's your cameraman?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Cameraman? What? Boy, I just need you to put these glasses on!" ║ ║ ║ ║ "I guess I've got nothing to lose," Carl says, reaching for the glasses, "This ain't coated in 'fent,' is it?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "I can't understand half the words you're saying, boy." ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl puts the glasses on. ║ ║ ║ ║ "Do you see anything out of the ordinary?" Eugene asks, frantic for an answer now. ║ ║ ║ ║ "That's actually cool. These shades make your vision in black 'n white," Carl says. ║ ║ ║ ║ "Fascinating. That's what I've been told in 2002." ║ ║ ║ ║ "So are you on meth or are you a time-traveler?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "That doesn't matter. I don't know what I am." ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl looks around in the sunglasses, "Funny, looks like a blackout." ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl takes the glasses off. Suddenly, he looks very confused. This confusion sparks a newfound hope in Eugene. Perhaps the boy ║ ║ has an answer for him. ║ ║ ║ ║ "What's the trick? I put the glasses on and all those billboards are off. I take them off and they're all on." ║ ║ ║ ║ "Fascin–" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Wait, wait," Carl interjects after he puts the glasses back on, "I see some advertisements. Only a few." ║ ║ ║ ║ "Take them off! Do you still see them?" ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl takes the glasses off again, "I still see them. Those aren't going away." ║ ║ ║ ║ "Which advertisements, boy?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Something about an art gallery. But I can only see the paintings." ║ ║ ║ ║ "Very fascinating," Eugene responds, "Say, what is the year, boy?" ║ ║ ║ ║ Now fully convinced that the salesman is either a magician or time-traveler, Carl responds "2063." ║ ║ ║ ║ "Boy, this is the first time in over a century I am beginning to have my answer. May I accompany you for the rest of the day, ║ ║ to try to figure out what the heck those glasses do?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "You know what. Sure," Carl responds. ║ ║ ║ ║ Eugene and Carl walk down the sidewalk. Carl wears the glasses to figure out what it all means. He instinctively pulls his ║ ║ phone out of his pocket and tries to turn it on. Finally, it does. ║ ║ ║ ║ "What's wrong with my phone?" Carl asks himself. ║ ║ ║ ║ "Is it supposed to do that?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "It's all black. All I can see is the time." ║ ║ ║ ║ "You don't see the pink and blue and yellow?" ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl pauses and takes the glasses off. Now, he can see the screen's background, notifications, and widgets. ║ ║ ║ ║ "Mister–" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Eugene." ║ ║ ║ ║ "Yeah. When I put the glasses on, my phone's screen is dark, except for the time." ║ ║ ║ ║ "That's fascinating." ║ ║ ║ ║ Eugene and Carl are now walking up the stairs of an apartment building. ║ ║ ║ ║ "You know, I'm not sure how I feel letting a complete stranger into my apartment." ║ ║ ║ ║ "Oh, I under–" Eugene starts, before he hatches a small idea, "look at that bulletin board." ║ ║ ║ ║ "Yeah? What about–" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Put your glasses on!" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Okay–" Carl says as he puts his glasses on, "Woah. Almost all of these posters are blank." ║ ║ ║ ║ "What can you see?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Some kid's dumpy little drawing." ║ ║ ║ ║ "Fascinating. Maybe the glasses dislike advertisements–" Eugene begins hypothesizing, "No, no, that wouldn't make sense. Back ║ ║ in 2002 I–" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Hey, Eugene, I've got an idea." ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl unlocks his apartment door. He walks in and lets Eugene in, and Carl turns his computer on. ║ ║ ║ ║ "Wow. So this is what computers look like today." ║ ║ ║ ║ "Yeah, it's cool, isn't it?" Carl asks. With the computer on, he starts typing on the keyboard. ║ ║ ║ ║ "What are you thinking of doing?" Eugene asks. ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl sets the sunglasses down on his desk. He pulls up a website. It is called "CREAIT." Very clever. ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl begins typing. In the website's prompt, he types "Draw me a picture a child would draw." ║ ║ ║ ║ Miraculously, countless drawings that look to be drawn by a child appear on the screen. A chatbot then responds "I hope these ║ ║ will satisfy! Please ask me if anything seems wrong." ║ ║ ║ ║ "A machine that draws anything? That seems genius," Eugene says. ║ ║ ║ ║ "It's creativity made by nobody. It feels wrong but I kinda stopped caring." ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl picks up the sunglasses and puts them on. Just as he predicted, the screen is barren. What used to be a monitor ║ ║ displaying abstract designs and child drawings, is now a blank white screen with an address bar showing the website's link. ║ ║ The chatbot ceases to exist before Carl's eyes. ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl, without explanation, gets up and walks out of his apartment. Still wearing the glasses, he walks out of his apartment, ║ ║ at looks anywhere he can. Eugene follows him shortly. ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl runs down the street, heading for Times Square. He continues looking around, revelling in the blank billboards and empty ║ ║ posters, his eyes viewing the same quantity of meaning they would have without the glasses. ║ ║ ║ ║ Eugene is running after Carl, confused as this is the first time any one of his clients have had an extraordinary reaction to ║ ║ his product. He calls out to him, but Carl continues running. ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl arrives at Times Square. He stares at all the screens. What used to carry advertisements and videos created by no one for ║ ║ no one now display nothing. Eugene catches up to Carl. ║ ║ ║ ║ Grabbing him by the shoulders, Eugene asks, "Boy! You must tell me, what are these sunglasses doing?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "It's what you pitched to me earlier! I only see what we have created!" ║ ║ ║ ║ "What? Who've? Huh?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "You said something! It was like, 'glasses that show my creations and other people's creations.'" ║ ║ ║ ║ "The motto?" ║ ║ ║ ║ "Yes! You see, we're all surrounded by creations masquerading as art. I thought art died decades ago." ║ ║ ║ ║ Eugene tries to interject, but Carl continues. ║ ║ ║ ║ "See those advertisements? No one made them," Carl turns his phone on and acknowledges its graphics, "No one made this ║ ║ background. These messages are all butchered remains of what people have written." ║ ║ ║ ║ "You mean that drawing machine made these?" Eugene asks while he looks at the flashing commercials. ║ ║ ║ ║ "Sure, if that makes things easier for you to understand. No one in those videos are real. These glasses show me only what's ║ ║ real." ║ ║ ║ ║ Eugene nods, "Well– I believe I have my answer now." ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl instinctively shakes Eugene's hand, "Whatever you are… wizard, magician, time-traveler, meth-head, I don't care. Thank ║ ║ you." ║ ║ ║ ║ Eugene pauses, and responds, "You're welcome." ║ ║ ║ ║ Carl finds himself in front of a bench. He sits on it. Eugene walks away. In the midst of the crowd, he disappears. Carl sits, ║ ║ watching, expecting someone to ask where he went, but nobody cares. ║ ║ ║ ╚════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝