Jonathan Lambrecht 10/11/13 Felix What is real? The words echoed throughout th e night with, seemingly, no source.

I was in disar ray for I had become lost on what I thought would be a shortcut to a local festival. The concrete ma ze that surrounded me was twisting itself at every turn, making any attempt I made to find the stree ts futile. What is real? Again, the phrase seeme d closer than before, yet rather than becoming lou der its tone changed to one that seemed more enrag ed by my approach. Silently cursing the alleyways ahead of me, I continued forward, pushing on in th e false hope that sooner or later I would come acr oss a street light or a road. Upon turning what I thought to be the final corner, I was faced with a figure that differed from the usual human shape, and from its direction sprang forth the words, Wh at is real? The silhouette was facing me, it seemed, its e xpressions and flesh hidden beneath a veil of dark ness. It was a shape only slightly taller than mos t normal humans, being at what could only be guess ed as six feet tall, give or take a few inches. Th e figures motions ranged between fluid and delicat e to harsh and mechanical as it slowly grew in siz e and collapsed moments later. A bright glare came from its eyes, piercing through the alleyways dar kened shroud, and darted from side to side as thou gh it were searching for something of value in the brick walls surrounding us. What is real? The voices tone went from an unne rving rage to a more joyful and enthusiastic one. I dont know, I replied. There was an awkward mo ment of silence as the figure seemed to gaze at me from behind his shroud. Finally, it stepped forwa rd into the dimly lit portion of the alley. Under the dim light of the lamp above us he lo oked as though he belonged in either a horror movi e or as a part of an act from a carnival. Clad hea d-to-toe in fabrics of all sorts with the same sha

de of black seeming to be the theme of his refined and delicate looking clothing, his once mysteriou s figure was now taking shape as he continued forw ard towards me. Most noticeably was his face, or lack of one. The area in which one would find anothers features w as concealed behind an elegant bird-like mask colo red white with plates of blood red metal covering the tip of the beak. Where his eyes should have be en were a pair of lens tinted black as the night b ehind him, and from those lens I could faintly mak e out my reflection, noting what his main focus wa s at the time. Around his head he wore a hood that covered what the mask could not, while atop his h ead was a rather wide brimmed hat whose curves see med to fill in for the faces missing eyebrows. His face made him look as though he was a beast or mu tant from another realm, a being whose intentions where primal at best, yet his motions promoted a s ense of elegance as he shifted through the alley. Surely a mix of such physical characteristics coul dnt exist in the body of a normal human. Further down was an unexpected garment; a dazz ling three-piece suit covered his body with a ragg ed floor length cloak dragging behind. The inner-m ost part of the suit seemed to be nothing more tha n a white under-shirt with a red ascot taking up a major portion of the fronts view. Over this was a vest, the same color as the inhuman beak no less, with an intricate design in a slightly lighter re d lining the vertical sections. The final part of the suit was a pure black and tailed coat with pri stine white cufflinks and buttons. The lower part of his body offered nothing more than a matching p air of pitch-black pants for the suits top along w ith a pair of dress shoes, also a colorless black with pure white spats covering them. Lastly was hi s cloak, which was unexplainably clean as it glide d over the ground on a cushion of air, and was not hing more than a pure black. What kind of murderer could this man be? was all I could think as he stepped closer. Would I b

e doomed to die here in this dank and disgusting a lleyway at the hands of some lunatic who repeats t hemselves in the darkest of corners? What do you mean, you dont know? Silence. We we re staring at each other from a distance of no mor e than two feet, and his head tilted slightly to b etter signify his confusion from my earlier reply. I decided to answer, carefully. I cant possibly know what is real and what isnt without proof now, can I? His head remained tilt ed and unmoving. Then, you mean to say, you require physical evid ence of something in order to determine its realit y? Or do you simply state you wish to follow the a ge old saying that seeing is believing? Must you w itness the birth of a child to believe in its exis tence or watch a tree grow over the course of many years to determine its reality? Better yet! Do yo u require physical evidence that you alone can fee l, to take hold of an objects many textures and ph ysical properties? Like feeling the softness of a cotton shirt or the jagged edges of a dull blade? His voice was calm and collected and floated thr ough the air with smoothness like no other. Yes, you could say I base my reality on such acti ons. To see and feel something is a definite way t o tell if it exists after all. He tilted his head back to its upright positio n and leaned towards me slowly speaking, Then wha t of theoretical research? Or faith? Or even tales told by others who had seen such things but have no visual records to state such facts? Do you choo se not to believe in them because you cannot see w hat they believe? He stopped as his beak came to within an inch of my face, then swiftly lunged bac kwards spreading his arms out and throwing his cap e over his shoulders. In doing so he revealed that he had been carrying a walking stick in his glove d hands with a shimmering golden cap atop the dark ened metal rod below it. Why, reality cant simply be labeled by one such

phrase like that my friend! He continued, Would you, given your answer, believe me when I say tha t I shall disappear from your sight yet still rema in within a single foots distance of you? Before I could retort the man flung his grand cape around his body, concealing his whole figure. I had expected the black cape to still be attached to his body with the only difference being that h e would be facing his back towards me, but instead in fell straight to the dusty ground. What is re al? The words had once again echoed throughout the alley, only this time with a serious ring about t hem, and I found myself scanning the shadows for t he missing being that once stood before me. "Where are you? How did you do that?" I paused, "What ar e you?" My heart had begun to beat faster as I twi rled myself around in circles to find this creatur e of the ally. "I'm no more than one foot away from you. I can't readily explain how I am able to do what I've done , but I am, however, human just as you are." His v oice softly sang out in the night still serious in its tone. Out of the corner of my eye, to my left , the sight of his blood red beak suddenly came in to view. I turned my head to make eye contact only to find that it was merely the creatures mask be ing held by his hand. Following his arm back to his body I was yet a gain confronted with his masked face, only it was no longer the pristine white and blood red it once was. Its color was now faded to a musty and sligh tly off-color white with the metal plates being sl ightly corroded and darker in color resembling oxi dized iron. "Do you believe now? Do you believe wh at your eyes cannot see?" His tinted lens reflecte d my scared and baffled face perfectly. "Yes, but how did you do that? How could you show up behind me when there was no room for you to man euver here in this alleyway without bumping into m e?" "How I did it is not important, what is import

ant is that you still fail to see that there is no true way to determine something's reality. I will never believe the powers bestowed upon me by natu re, for despite my abilities to use them, I myself cannot determine how these powers make me, an ind ividual, real to others when I am capable of such grand illusions. Reality is defined as a state or quality of existence, and yet I am capable of taki ng and twisting that very fact to mean the opposit e. To bend reality or to follow its basic definiti on? It is impossible for there are many things the orized by humanity to exist and many more things t hat abide by that very rule of proven existence. W ith so many, like yourself, failing to see that ev eryone's varied beliefs are creating such large ga ps for a clear definition for reality I find mysel f at a loss as to whether I am real myself or not. " The entire time he spoke he leaned closer to me, eventually pushing the tip of his beak, with its corroded metal and faint scent of lavender and rus t, past my head until his one lens was nearly on my eye. I found myself staring into the tinted glass a t my reflection, hoping that by some miracle his w ords would make sense. I closed my eyes to prevent myself from being drawn into the man's empty eyes , but upon opening them I found that I was no long er in the dark and dank alley and that he was no l onger standing in front of me. Instead, I was at the local festival, my initial d estination, with all its lights and sounds flashin g and soaring through the cool autumn air. To my l eft the figure stood erect and proud. His mask was back to the clean white and blood red color it ha d once been, and the second mask he held in his ha nds had disappeared. He had gathered his cape and flung it over his body, once again concealing his body from my sight. Tell me, friend, did you believe you were los t when you first stumbled upon me? The figure was looking off into the crowd of people walking up a nd down the rows of kiosks as he spoke. I took a wrong turn in an alleyway. I thought I would arriv

e here faster if I went through the alleys in the city, but I got lost rather quickly, I replied. T he man chuckled and turned his body towards me. You were never lost. You simply forgot how to dif ferentiate what was real and what wasnt. The curv es of the alley, the seemingly long and narrow row s followed by small opened spaces you were simply navigating the festival, but your eyes and your m ind wouldnt perceive it as such and so you became stuck in an endless alleyway. His voice was play ful and he looked as though he were ready to jump all over the place. I am the reason you lost your sense of reality, or maybe it was the reason you gained a sense of reality. I cannot decide for you . If this is what you wish to be real, a festival where everyone can enjoy themselves at minimal cos t, then so be it. But maybe you see that there is a sense of falseness in that, in the schedules you keep and the people you meet, maybe there is only that long labyrinth of an alleyway with a hidden figure in the shadows. Your dreams, possibly, are nothing more than a fabrication of others ideas th at you yourself have decided to make real for them without even knowing it, or maybe they are what m ake you an individual, as you alone, seemingly, ca n harbor only those thoughts. Is that real? Is tha t fair to say? To say that because of one question you may choose to rethink how you view everything s existence. I most certainly have, friend, and I have yet to find an answer that I am happy with. I have yet to determine what is real. Slowly his voice trailed off and went from its upbeat tone to one that was depressed and serious. Finally, he looked back at me, "You may pull n othing meaningful out of our meeting unfortunately , my friend. I might soon be forgotten by you as y our life continues, which will in turn lead to my ever decreasing grasp on what I determine to be my own existence, my own reality. However, I would l ike to have you remember my name, for I am Felix. Felix the Mystic Plague Doctor, a man of illusions

and god-like control on what many cannot fathom. I would like you to remember me as the man whose o wn reality is quickly fading, not because I am dyi ng, but because I am being forgotten as a man and known as an illusionary being. I think, therefore I am, and yet I am not." Twisting his head towards me in a way in which half of his face was conceal ed by the shadow of his hat, with only the glare o f his tinted lens shining out from beyond its dark ness. "What is real?" he whispered before walking off into the crowd of people. I watched as he stopped to entertain a family with simple magic tricks. A simple is-this-your-card r outine held the children in awe at his skills. Mag ic, a bending of reality as we know it to master n ature in the forms of fire and lightning, or at le ast thats the stereotype we all know. As he moved on to impress the adults his tricks were more ser ious. Felix would conceal himself in his shroud of darkness that was his cape, and moments later he would be behind the couple, only distorted. His ma sk became unclean and his voice had gotten furious in tone. The world around the couple was becoming distorted just as mine had been. I felt as though they had been put in my place, running through th at dark alleyway wanting to escape. But from my ey es they were standing there, staring blankly into his tinted lenses, lost in their own reflections t hat were mirrored so perfectly. Illusions and hypnosis, those were his tools. How else could he trick people into thinking they were in a warped realm in which nothing makes sense? H is tricks were nothing more than twisting our thou ghts. I watched, and slowly I began to smile. It a ll makes sense, his logic, his tricks; they were n othing more than an act. Is that so? Your answers all seem to have a logic al backing, but do they truly explain what I have done? I had blinked only once, and upon opening m y eyes I was back in the darkened alley. I was now staring down Felix sitting on a throne of masks s imilar to his. I was aghast; every time I blinked

something from the surrounding area was replaced w ith his tell-tale mask. Fear of reality, or maybe fear of loss of reality. What do you feel? His v oice grew louder and seemed to become a part of so me chorus as every word he said echoed throughout the night. I ran from him as fast as I could throu gh the veil of darkness before me until I found a shimmering light. Moving towards it I found myself where I had started, and Felix was still sitting there upon his throne. Slowly he leaned forward an d spoke, What is real?