See Me Not

By Richard Wilson

Since H. G. Wells’ definitive THE INVISIBLE MAN, the subject of invisibility has cropped up many times in science fiction. But seldom has it been expanded upon so wittily (or tied up so neatly) as in this classic tale, originally published in SF Impulse (February 1967).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wildside Press
• Release date: Mar 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781479459841

Richard Wilson

Dr. Wilson served the United States Department of Agriculture, Agricultural Research Service (ARS) for 32 years. He led the USDA Soybean & Nitrogen Fixation Research Unit at Raleigh, North Carolina until 2002 when he became the USDA-ARS National Program Leader for all oilseed research. Dr. Wilson holds the rank of Professor Emeritus at North Carolina State University. His personal research helped pioneer breakthroughs in biochemical and genetic regulation of soybean seed composition, with emphasis on improved oil quality traits that provided the foundation for commercial production of high-oleic soybeans. His direction of national USDA research projects enabled the development of high-oleic peanuts, and chromosomal scale sequences of the soybean, dry bean, cacao and peanut genomes.

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COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

SEE ME NOT

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

Copyright © 1967 by Richard Wilson.

Originally published in SF Impulse, February 1967.

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Published by Wildside Press LLC.

wildsidepress.com | bcmystery.com

SEE ME NOT

Avery didn’t realize he was invisible until a few minutes after he woke up the second time. He woke the first time at the usual hour, heard his wife say something about getting the kids out of the house so he could sleep and snuggled blissfully back into the pillow. It was the first day of his vacation.

The second time he yawned prodigiously, then was wide awake. He lay on his back for a few minutes, looking at the ceiling. There was something different about the way it looked. No, it wasn’t the ceiling that was different, but his view of it. A perfectly clear, unobstructed view. Then he realized that what was missing was the fuzzy, unfocused tip of nose which had always been there, just below the line of vision, and which became a definite object only when he closed one eye.

Avery closed one eye. No nose. His hand came up in alarm and felt the nose. It was there, all right. That is, he could feel it. But he couldn’t see the fingers or the hand.

He shivered and lay still, observing with dubious comfort the shape of his body under the covers and the ridge made by his feet. He brought up his hands. He couldn’t see them. He clapped them together. He heard the clap but all he could see was two pajama sleeves coming almost together at a right angle, then stopping inches away from each other.

He bent the sleeve toward his face and his invisible hand hit him in the chin. He forced himself to look down the empty sleeve. Seeing the emptiness, clear to the elbow, gave him a queasy feeling, as if he were looking down a deep well.

Avery threw back the covers. His wrinkled pajama legs came into view, but at the end of them—no feet.

It was impossible, Avery thought. Therefore he must be dreaming. But that couldn’t be right, either, because whenever he dreamed and realized he was dreaming he woke up. Therefore he was already awake. It was impossible.

He swung his legs off the bed and put his feet on the floor. He could see distinctly the nap of the carpet under them being pressed down.

Now he was facing the big round mirror of his wife’s dressing table. The sight of the pajama-clad nothing, headless, handless and footless, was unnerving. He stripped off his pajamas and disappeared completely.

The sound of tires crunching on gravel sent him to the window. It was their car. Liz was back.

He scooped up his pajamas, then changed his mind about putting them on and tossed them in the closet. Liz mustn’t see him like this...mustn’t not see him...What he meant, he told himself, was that he must avoid her for a while, till he reappeared, if he was going to, or at least until he knew what had happened to him. He didn’t want to scare her half to death.

The front door opened and closed and his wife called: Hello, Ave? You up?

She must have heard him moving around.

I’m up here, he called, going into their daughter’s room. In the bedroom.

He heard her drop bundles on the kitchen table, then start up the stairs. He waited for her to go into the bedroom, then went down the stairs. He almost slipped, not being able to see his feet, then navigated the rest of the way by not looking down. In the process he had closed his eyes and realized that it made no difference. He saw right through the invisible eyelids.

Where are you? his wife called from upstairs. Avery?

Uh—down the basement, Liz, he said, going down. Just checking the oil in the tank.

Whatever for? It’s the middle of summer.

"Well,