Equal Exchange (Patreon)

"So how does this work?" The guy doesn't look like he has anything to do with the supernatural. 40 years old, perhaps younger. Muscular build, short black hair, and green eyes. The leather jacket makes him look older, but the washed-out retro Nintendo T-shirt under it makes him look younger. Perhaps it isn't retro, but an original. He could be that age. Or 500 years. You can change clothes after all.

"As I said on the phone, you tell me what you want. I give you that and take something of equal value. Equal value to me." He empties the small espresso cup and places it on the little plate. I have never been to this café before. Perhaps he hasn't either. It doesn't feel like the place for him somehow, with all the dainty pastries. Perhaps he chose this place as a neutral meeting ground for anonymous trades in magic. I realize I've rushed into this. What if this secrecy was for protection. Perhaps I'll unlock a world of magic and demons, never to be safe again. Or this is all a dud or a prank and nothing would come of it.

I take off my thick glasses and place them on the table between us. "These will soon not be enough. I'm going blind. Slowly though, to make sure I know what I'll miss." What's the price of sight? Going deaf?

I can see the blur reaching out, touching the glasses, but barely. "That all? No enemy to slay? No heartthrob to woo? No riches to be gained?" He slides them back to me, and I put them back on. I feel stupid. Why did I take them off in the first place? It's not like he would examine my eyes like a doctor.

"No, I can do all that already. Or try." He is staring at me though, straight into my eyes. Then he turns his head to the left and up, like he is trying to stretch a neck muscle. Then the same to the right. "I like you, kid, so I'll give you a special deal. I'll trade you sight for sight."

"I don't understand." He's stretching out his right arm, putting it behind his neck.

"Fate has given you a burden, and it would be costly for someone else to take it. But we can switch it out for a different one. Come."

He is quick on his feet and starts walking towards the restroom without checking if I'm following. I'm still trying to tease out what he just said. Realizing he told me to follow I jump to my feet seconds later and catch up to him and follow him through the door. It's just a small room in front of the toilet room, barely enough for the two of us. He grabs my shoulders and turns me towards the mirror over the sink. He is standing right behind me, towering over me. He smells of leather, tobacco, and spruce. "Take off your glasses and close your eyes."

I don't know why I'm doing what he tells me to do. I guess hope is the last thing to leave you, and I desperately want to believe what he tells me, even though deep down I know this is a ruse, though I don't know how yet. I can feel him pinching the bridge of my nose. "This will sting. Try not to scream." It does hurt a bit, but more like there is heat coming from where he is pinching me. It's only for a few seconds, and then he removes his hand. The nose is still sore with a dull pain. "You can look now."

I open my eyes and see two studs where my glasses used to rest, as if my nose bridge had been pierced. A bit slow I realize I'm still holding my glasses in my hand, and look up in the mirror to see his face standing behind me a head taller. While I'm smiling he is dead still, showing no emotion at all.

Then I feel my ears beginning to heat up. First it is hard to tell exactly where, but soon I see the earlobes starting to expand, as if they were filling with fluid. Then they burst open and reveal gauges with metal tunnels in them. It's over in just a few seconds.

He pats me on both shoulders. "There you go. Eyes as new. If you remove any of the stuff they will start deteriorate again, but it stops if you put it all in again." He moves to the door to leave.

"But what about the trade? Sight for sight?"
"I got to decide how you look for the rest of your life, and if you don't think that is a price just wait until you start looking for a job. Maybe I'm just getting old and it won’t be a big deal. Well, best of luck, kid."