From the other side of the glass, it always pays to be detached. What do you do when you feel for the object of your observation? A flash piece by Hanson Hovell Holladay gives a small insight in The Observer. SY
Gazing into the monitor’s screen, the Observer suddenly becomes uneasy. The woman below always rises with the sun, watching it grow in brightness throughout the morning hours. Only on this morning she does not appear. Those that encircle her life stir and pace about as though the day seems just as any other. Where is she? He thinks to himself. What’s wrong?
On the nearside of the planet’s natural satellite, invisible to the people that dwell below, the Observer scans the numerous monitors before him. Looking, he can see everyone and all they have created over time—everyone but her. She had been crying the day before, having emptied her sadness in isolation. With every tear she struggled to breathe, until exhaustion carried her into a deep slumber. He knows that she suffers from inner pain. What can I do? Why do you hurt? So much time thinking.