Rose View

No violence. No poverty. No decay. Only beauty.  Can you imagine this world? With just three appointments and $20,000 we can bring it to you! I would like to introduce RealWorld’s newest product: Rose View. Rose View takes all of the ugly in the world and makes it beautiful. Never again will you have to see fights breaking out in the streets! Never again­­­­­ will you have to hear the 99ers yelling at each other! Rose View achieves this by implanting a few small chips in your brain and body that identify anything bad or ugly and changes it to fit in our ideal world. Of course--as with all of our procedures-- you will be completely awake and no harm will be done. Just remember, once you go Rose View, there’s no going back. I hope to see you soon in our rose view world!

The scalpel moves closer to my head. This was worth it. I feel it draw a small line right above the arch of my eyebrow. It’s too late to back out now. I glance to the side and see the chip. I can’t believe my entire life's’ savings can fit in something so small. What if they were to drop it? It’d be so easy to lose. Soon enough I won’t have to worry about that, it’ll be part of me and I’ll finally be part of them. The surgeon picks up the chip.

I wonder what my life will be like once I finally fit in with the Unos. If I can only see beauty that means I’ll be beautiful right? What if I can’t see myself? Why didn’t I ask these questions before going in? I feel a prickle above my eye. That must mean they’ve finished with my sight, the last sense they had to change before the procedure was finished. As the black cloth over my head is removed I’m greeted with a friendly face, but not the same one that was there at the beginning of the procedure. This face is thinner and more tanned. His eyes sparkle more than I remember too.

“Ma‘am? We’re all finished up. If you’d like to get dressed and meet us in the waiting room we have some follow-up instructions to go over with you.”

    As I sit up the room blinds me. Everything is whiter than anything I’ve ever seen. I can’t help but notice the small differences in the room from before the operation. The surgeon's tools are more shiny, the room feels a cozy cold, and a sweet melody is playing over the speakers. In the chair where my dirty sneakers and worn jeans were there now sits a pastel floral dress and white wedges. I run my hands above my eyebrow to find the incision. There is none. I check behind my ear, on my tongue, my fingers, and my nose.

There are no cuts anywhere. I slip into the dress. As I shuffle into the waiting room, I savor the silky feel as it brushes across my skin,.

“Hi, I’m sure you’re overloaded with new sensations, but we need to go over some follow up instructions with you.” chirped a small man in a singsongy voice.

“Before you return home you need to stop and get--” His hair looked like he had spent hours styling it. I wonder if all the Unos do that.

“Just remember that sometimes people feel like they don’t belong in this-” I wonder what I look like. Does my hair look that nice? Is my skin that flawless?

“If you do experience this please contact--” Is that a mirror over there?

“Every three days you must--” Is he almost done? I can’t wait to look around. I wonder what it looks like outside.

“I’ll see you at the follow up visit?” the man asks. I mumble that he will and thank him before making a beeline for the door. I burst through the doors before coming to a halt. The air is crisp and everything is sharper. Everything is perfect.

I fish my keys out of my suddenly organized purse while searching for my beaten down truck. It is nowhere to be found, but a BMW i8 catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. It can’t be. Hesitantly, I grab my key and flip it over. “BMW” is written on the front. I hop in and start on my drive home.

I wonder what my family will think about Rose View? I haven’t told them I got it and grandfather hates all the new technology. What if they don't accept me? What if they think I’ve made some big mistake? They could kick me out. If they do I can just- did I make a wrong turn? The house looks so different.

I dash up to the large wood door and swing it open, greeted by the smell of fresh baked pancakes.

“Hannah! You’re finally home!” A tall, blonde woman shrieks in loving excitement as she rushes to meet me. In one hand she holds a bowl of batter, with the other she reaches out and grabs my arm, dragging me into the kitchen.  As I pass through the door I notice something is wrong. The marks on the door frame are missing. My whole life my mom marked my brothers’ and my growth of the edge of the door frame.

“We’ve been waiting forever!” calls out a small boy from the table. I rush over pushing the marks out of my head.

“How’d the surgery go?” inquires an older man at the end of the table. He is dressed in a golf uniform and is sporting a rolex watch.

I tell them about the surgery, slowly realizing who they are. My grandfather laughs as I describe the first few moments of seeing the world with Rose View. It isn’t his  old booming laugh, the type of laugh that took up the whole room. I has always thought it was annoying, but it was contagious.

“I can’t wait until I can get Rose View!” my younger brother interjects. I notice that he’s lost his stutter. Kids had made fun of him for it his entire life, but it was who he was.

This isn’t my family. This is the family you see in commercials, the family everybody wants, but nobody has. They are picture perfect, but they aren’t perfect for me.

I run upstairs. All of our family pictures are missing, replaced with pictures of exotic destinations. The table my brother and I always hid under and drew on when there was a big storm is gone.

As I move to mirror I notice that I’m skinnier, more tan, more beautiful. This isn’t me. This isn’t what I wanted.

“Just remember, once you go Rose View, there’s no going back.”

I grab the pottery knife from my art table. If all I can see is perfection I don’t want to see at all.