The next day as I walked to my afternoon spot on the park bench, I had a cup of instant noodles in my hand that I had bought from a 711 nearby. I saw The Flickering Man already seated on the spot I had left him the previous day. He no longer had his trench coat on, but instead, he wore a grey long-sleeved Oxford shirt. He did, however, still had on his khaki pants and heavy boots.
The Flickering Man was not flickering anymore and he had a rather calm expression on his face as he sat back enjoying the cool breeze that blows through the park. It seemed to me as if he had not noticed my presence at all. As soon as I was comfortably seated, I peeked under the aluminium cover of my cup noodles. The noodles were no longer hard and they had become that perfect slightly soft but also slightly crunchy texture that I enjoy. I broke my chopsticks and was about to dig in when I noticed The Flickering Man beckoning me towards him, somewhat excitedly.
I pointed to myself, as if to ask, “Me? You want me to go over to you?”
He nodded. So I got up with my cup noodles and went to sit beside him.
“I wish to apologise for not being an accommodating guest yesterday. I feared I could lose touch with this world of yours and just disappear. Thus, I was so focused in trying to make sure that I didn’t. I am usually not like that. It is not always the case that I found just the right condition to be able to interact with someone or something that has awareness such as yourself because most of the time, I live in the blind cycles of the universe,” The Flickering Man told me.
I asked him why he was flickering the day before.
“The flickering is simply me trying my best to represent myself in a way that I could be perceived by you and the other beings that have the same perceptual faculties such as yourself. I did not quite attune myself right yesterday, causing me to only appear to be flickering but I assure you that my existence is as real as you or anything else that you can perceive,” The Flickering Man explained, or tried to at least.
But humans can’t flicker.
“Well, I wasn’t flickering. Like I said, it is your perceptual faculty that makes me appear to be flickering. I am not some kind of light bug that have the ability to generate and create its own light, if that is what you are implying,” The Flickering Man pointed to me then back to himself.
Is there something wrong with my, um, perceptual faculty then?
“No, nothing of that sorts, but your perceptual faculty is limited. Everybody’s perception in this world is limited in some way or another. But if I may add on, it is probably more of a good thing that they are,” The Flickering Man assured me.
I didn’t quite understand what he meant that my perception was limited. As far as I know, I have flawless eyesight, and all my other senses are in excellent condition. Thus, in between slurping my noodles, I asked him how exactly are my perceptual abilities limited.
“How do I put it… Look there.”
The Flickering Man pointed towards the puddle at our feet. I looked at where he was pointing at. The puddle showed the reflection of the two of us sitting on the bench, the trees were swaying gently behind us, and the tall skyscrapers in the background loomed magnificently overhead. What was he trying to show?
Then, I saw it. Or rather, I saw something move. There was a small air bubble and an ever so tiny ripple near the middle of the puddle. It was an earthworm. In fact, the longer I observed the puddle, the more earthworms of varying sizes that I could spot swimming lazily in the puddle.
“The earthworms… Do you see them?” The Flickering Man asked me.
Yes.
“They can’t see you, can they?” The Flickering Man asked again.
No, they can’t. They are earthworms.
“Yes, earthworms are born without eyes. They were created that way. They never had the perceptual faculty to see or perceive light. The same goes for cave critters or many deep sea creatures that are also unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, not naturally imbued with eyes.”
But I have eyes. I am human.
“Do you think the earthworms know that they cannot see light?”
No, I suppose not.
“They don’t. They are blind to the entire world of light and colours. But are they missing out? Probably not. From their point of view, they have a universe of their own which they continue to perceive and interact through their limited senses and I’d like to think it is enough to keep them occupied. And to you, though you may think you have all the senses in the world, you don’t, and you probably aren’t feeling bogged down by that limitation anyway, are you?”
No, I suppose not.
That was the very first lesson that I had from The Flickering Man, and a very important one it was. There are really a lot of things in this world that I don’t know of, that maybe I should know, but I just didn’t. I was content, and oblivious, with my limited perceptual faculties. Just like that gently swimming earthworm.
Is there someone who can perceive everything then, or someone who can perceive more than what ordinary humans can?
The Flickering Man fell silent for a moment at my question. I took the opportunity to slurp on my cup noodles because they were getting colder by the second. I saw his eyes fell a little, or maybe I didn’t.
“Beings that can see Constant can perceive almost everything.”
Can you see Constant?
“Yes.”
I looked down at my cup noodles. It was almost finished.
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