There was once a time, on the crossroads of my travels, when I came across a peculiar man. He immediately recognized me as a foreigner and bid to join me on my travels. Being the explorational enthusiast I was, I granted his request. In the ensuing weeks, we got to know each other very well. We shared our motives for travelling, our past experiences on the road, and recommendations for each other’s future travels. He was a very keen man who was able to pick up on the smallest hints to how I was feeling. There was a look in his eyes when we conversed, a gaze of understanding, as if he has had similar experiences as I did. He was patient, not just with me, but with anyone else I saw him converse with, even the more irritable ones. He proved to be very useful, speaking the native tongue much more fluently than I did and with a greater understanding of their vocabulary.
Still, something felt unnatural about this man as I watched him interact with more and more people along our travels. His body language, the way he conversed, and the actions he took would often times get what he wanted for us. They were too fluent. He knew exactly how to act and respond to any kind of person we came across, whether they’re humble and simple like us or demanding and impatient. He could read and understand their motives just as easily as he could with me, but in a brutally efficient manner. After certain interactions, he would confess his actions were a little manipulative, but would pass them off as no harm done and beneficial for the sake of our travels. As expected, he fathomed I was a little freaked out by his uncanny perception. I knew he was acting in good faith, so I made an effort to temper my surprise to show I still trusted him. Of course, I eventually grew familiar with his piercing intuition and began to banter with him about it. Just as I expect from you, I remember saying. Or I would tease him during the rare moments when he did not immediately understand what I was on about. But because I was a curious-minded man, it remained in the back of my head, and during times of ease, I would probe how he got to be so affluent at understanding people. Understandably, he himself wasn’t sure exactly how he does it, but he did clue me in on a few tricks. What I could have never anticipated, however, was for him to open up one day on the truth behind his uncanny ability.
One night, by the campfire we had set out in the countryside, he explained to me there was something on his mind that he was finally ready to discuss. Supposing he needed consultation, I asked what could possibly be troubling someone of the like. Sitting upright, he begins with a story of his early adventures, in which he explained were similar to mine: wandering unbeknownst lands haphazardly, seeking to take in what the world had to offer and the people that lived its lands. However, as he traveled further and further, he began to feel strange sensations with each person he came across. It was as if, he explained, their thoughts were leaking into his mind. It would take some time before he realized it was not their thoughts, but their experiences he was feeling. His curiosity took over and he began to listen closely for these sensations, and over the years, he refined his ability well enough to dig deep into any person’s past and experience what they had. All it took was simple eye contact with the person’s face. Suddenly, he had the ability to walk down the streets of a market and experience a millennia worth of memories. It was a wondrous ability, being able to look at an elderly man and not only be able to understand his upbringing, his maturation, his happiness, and his regrets, but to also understand them with greater urgency and clarity than the elder could possibly remember. It was an ability that was anecdotally thought to be impossible, and had wide-reaching implications for world peace if it was teachable. But alas, as far as he was aware, this ability was exclusive to himself, as he never came across anyone who could understand him as immediately as he understood them. If such a person existed, they would’ve knew each other had similar abilities upon eye contact.
Upon hearing this story, I was tempted to think of it as a tall tale, but given the trust I had in his sincerity, I tested his claim by requesting he recite the poem I had written about my homeland, a place I was certain he had never seen. Sure enough, he did so effortlessly and furthermore with just as much of a heart as I would have given it, emphasizing the right parts with the precise tone of voice. I was duly amazed with his demonstration, though he was reserved with the perfection of his performance. He continues with his story, saying his prowess wasn’t the end of it. As he reached the capability to look as far back into someone’s infancy, he began to realize another, far more otherworldly sensation. After a few trials, he discerned he was also looking into a person’s future as well. Although to the date of our crossing, he still could not see any more than a few minutes into the future, and at best a few hours, it was a disturbing discovery more sinister than being able to see one’s past. While being able to understand one’s origin was useful for establishing understanding or truth, the capacity to see one’s future had potential for manipulation. It was upon this realization when he began to practice abstinence with his powers. Though he was never able to block out the sensation, he had to master tremendous patience, so as to not interrupt people because he already knew what they will say, and practice considerable self-conscious as to what he was saying and what it would probably elicit from whomever he was speaking to.
The most disturbing realization of his journey was the implications of being able to see into the future. It makes sense the other way around, as what’s past is past, but the future is not set, or so it is said. If he is indeed seeing into any given person’s future, that very ability must mean there is a higher agenda that is determining the outcome of all these lives. In other words, everything that happens is fated to happen. Fate and destiny was more than a construct. It was reality. I asked whether it was possible he was simply predicting a person’s future course of action through the analysis of their past behavior. It turned out it was a possibility he had considered, but he had come across numerous instances of uncanny accuracy where he was able to predict a person’s reaction to something they themselves have never experienced. The only strange observation was the fact that he could change the prospect of these future sights if he intervened. As he exampled with me at that current moment, he was having trouble predicting how I would react now that I was aware of his capabilities, only being able to discern from what I was currently pondering.
After he finished his story, we sat in silence for some time. I was unsure what to think about this ability of his, and perhaps on instinct, started thinking of ways to help my poor friend. He of course knew what I was thinking, smiled, and told me I was the most generous friend he could’ve asked for. However, he believed he was far from saving, and had been pondering for several years as to whether if his knowledge and ability should be taught to others, if possible. At that moment, he was certain it would possibly be the best for the world if his ability had died with him, but felt alone in being the only person who knew. I was honored to be the first to have the privy of his ability and asked if he knew what was in store for his future. He simply laughed and said there would be no possible way to truly see his own face, as his powers don’t work on reflections and photographs. I then demonstrated the very phenomenon he had left off with by asking a question he was unprepared for: why, then, was he still travelling if he knew his ability would only strengthen with the more people he meets? This made him think for a while. He finally confesses he wasn’t sure what to do but continue what he has been doing.
It has been several decades since I’ve last seen him. I eventually settled down to raise a family while he continued on with his travels. I write this without the intention to publish my journey with this peculiar man, but as a hidden record to pass on to my grandchildren. If the story is destined to never by found and the knowledge lost, then so be it. I have taken the precautions to make this story certainly difficult to find without destroying. But if it is found, it is perhaps meant to be, and I am now possibly passing on this wicked ability to those who read it, as now that I have had several years to ponder over this meeting, I too have begun to see what he has seen. I hope, however, this ability cannot be transferred through writing, and so it will wither away alongside with me.