Oh, sorry, was that valuable (laser eyes edition)?

A giant stack of identically-cut paper snowflakes.  Backyard scrap metal art.  Instant amputation of zombie-bitten limbs.  Perfect grooming of foliage and otherwise useless dogs.

What do all these things have in common?  Laser eyes would make them all so much easier. 

 

You know.  Laser eyes.  Like Superman.  Or Cyclops.  Powerful beams that shoot out of your eyes, and either blast through something, cut through something, or send a bad guy flying across the room to land unconscious with his clothes and skin still intact, except for maybe a really big bruise.  Whatever the plot calls for at the moment. 

 

If you’ve been reading this blog regularly (and I know you haven’t), you’ll know that I recently had cataract surgery.  Hell, it’s all I’ve been talking about lately.  You’ll know that cataract surgery entails removal of the original, natural lens, and insertion of a new, man-made lens.  You’ll also know how disappointed I was that, today, in the 21st century, there are no real options to be had with those man-made lenses.  No night vision, no infrared, no telescopic vision.   

 

No laser eyes. 

 

Of course, laser eyes would require more than just a tiny manufactured lens.  You need a power source, and some way to protect your own eyes from your own lasers.  There has to be some kind of control mechanism: you don’t want them getting stuck in the “on” position.   

 

These are obstacles, sure, and yet... are they really too much to handle?  Are these hurdles really too high?  I don’t see it.  Why scientists haven’t found a way to give us laser eyes, I just don’t know. 

 

Side note: of course, they have found ways to do it.  They’re just not telling the rest of us, and they won’t until their army of super Neanderthals begins their inevitable (yet ultimately vain) war of conquest.   

 

For the record, I’m in full support of our new laser-eyed Neanderthal overlords and their Poindexter masters, and I always have been.  Not like the rest of you people. 

 

End side note. 

 

The unfortunate thing is: age brings perspective, and while I’m not yet as old as about half of America, I am also older than half of America*.  I therefore have an uncomfortable amount of perspective to bring to this discussion, and that leads me to ask: what would you do with them? 

What good would laser eyes be?  You could cut your name into things.  Maybe cut through things?  Get a job at a manufacturing company, where you’d be a forgotten backup to the giant machines that do the same job faster, better, and more accurately.  Be on-call for the police, when they need somebody’s tires taken out during a high-speed chase.  Perform emergency surgery.  Win bar bets.   

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That all assumes that these are actual lasers, and not some other form of comic book energy beam that can, as Cyclops’ apparently can, sometimes cut, sometimes blast, and sometimes just shove really hard.  If there is any such form of energy, I’m unaware of it. 

I’m looking at you scientists again. 

This also assumes that your eye lasers are powerful enough to cut.  Lasers are basically just tight beams of light, which of course you already know.  They can be powerful enough to cut, or just powerful enough to point out which part of the PowerPoint slide we’re talking about now.  That would still be a neat trick – no cat would ever go unentertained – but it would also be kind of pathetic.  Imagine, telling everyone you’ve got laser eyes and then being unable to do anything but annoy that loud table across the bar. 

 

See what I mean?  Useless. 

 

But then, exactly what superpowers would be useful?  When does the need for super strength ever really come up?  How often have you had to get the horribly damaged car’s door open before the burgeoning fire could reach the gas tank?  Or invisibility: it could be fun to walk around playing pranks on people for a while, but unless you’re planning to rob people or become a spy, what good is it? 

 

Telepathy?  We’ve got cell phones now.  Flight?  I suppose, if you could fly faster than you can walk.  At least, you could get where you’re going in a straight line.  No red lights. 

 

Okay, teleportation, if you can control it well enough.  Imagine what you’d save on gas.  Mind reading.  At least you’d always win at poker.  Fast healing, which, we should really have nanobots doing that for us already (scientists!).  You’d get invited to every party if you could make ice out of thin air, and every camping trip if you could create fire.   

 

I’m not saying I wouldn’t want these abilities.  Hey, the zombie apocalypse has to start sometime, and they’ll be useful then, at least.  But that’s the point: superpowers are only useful in dramatic situations, and exactly how many really dramatic situations are any of us ever in?  Might as well learn to juggle.  

*I am informed that this is incorrect: the median age in the U.S. is 38.2 years, making me thirteen years older than half of America.  I do not regret the error. 

If you can't see the zombies, they can still see you.

Teddy Roosevelt liked to go places.  He liked to go to strange, exotic, uncivilized places, where there weren’t any roads and which few, if any, other humans had seen.  A book I once read told several stories about his travels (including the time he became so ill that he told his companions to leave him behind), but what stuck with me the most was the story about his glasses. 

Teddy Roosevelt wore glasses.  Before he went on one of his excursions, far from any civilized place, he would carefully wrap and pack several extra pairs.  Just in case. 

 

It’s often occurred to me that extra pairs of glasses should be a standard addition to one’s zombie apocalypse bug-out bag.  If you need corrective lenses, you’ll still need them after civilization falls.  Civilization won’t be making any more of them, and while you may be able to scavenge more, how much do you want to rely on finding what you need? 

 

What if bug-out time comes during a shower, while you’re not wearing them?  Well, okay, bad example.  If the apocalypse hits while you’re dripping shampoo onto the bathroom tiles, you’ll have more obstacles to overcome than just eyesight.  And hey, maybe you’re wearing your contact lenses! 

 

Or would that be worse?  Maybe not, if you’re wearing the kind you can sleep in.  Those will last for... how long?  A month?  And if you’re able to pack your extra pairs, and your supplies – at least one lens case, a bottle of solution – that could keep you for a good long while.   

 

But sooner or later, you’ll have to take your contacts out.  I think we can all agree: the unpredictability of an apocalyptic scenario creates a need for constant preparedness.  No, we can’t wait for you to put your contact lenses in, we have to leave now. 

 

So.  Glasses.  Glasses, which can fall off, or at least fall askew.  Which get dirty.  Which break.  Which, over time, become inadequate.   

 

And yes, as I mentioned earlier, we can scavenge.  Still.  Glasses equals a generally lower level of readiness.  A lower level of survivability. 

 

Side note: if a person is blind, is the zombie that person becomes also blind?  I’m thinking yes.  So an extremely nearsighted person would become an extremely nearsighted zombie.  I sense humor there.  Benny the nearsighted zombie.  Keeps shambling up to trees, thinking they’re food. 

 

Dibs on the screenplay.  End side note. 

 

Believe it or not, I’ve put a lot of thought into the effect of bad eyesight on zombie apocalypse scenarios.  Nobody ever talks about that.  Food, yes.  Guns, of course.  Clothing, maybe.  Vehicles.  Shelter.  These are the topics we automatically turn to when discussing the zombie apocalypse.  But, wow, you’ve got to be able to see.  And for me, that’s always been a concern. 

 

I’ve worn glasses since I was five years old.  I started wearing contact lenses as a teenager.  By the time I turned 40, the lenses in my glasses were so thick they became uncomfortable to wear for more than a few hours at a time.  

 

And then I developed cataracts.  My eyesight became so bad even corrective lenses didn’t do the trick, and it was only going to get worse from there. 

 

What incredibly good luck! 

 

As regular readers of this blog (waves at self in mirror) know: I recently underwent cataract surgery.  Two eyes, two surgeries, two weeks apart.  I didn’t notice any horrible scarring on my doctor’s face, but maybe he was wearing some sort of mask. 

 

And now, lo and behold, I can see.  I can read the alarm clock when I roll over at night!  If you’ve never needed glasses, you have no idea what a shock that was.  Rolling over, looking at the clock, and being able to read it.   

 

For a moment, I thought I’d forgotten to take my contacts out.  But no!  I go to sleep, I wake up, and I can see! 

 

Sure, I have to use my reading glasses more now.  The manmade lenses still don’t have quite the flexibility of the Godmade ones.  And I’m still hoping for upgrades in the future.  Infrared, telescope, range finding.  That sort of thing. 

 

Still.  Bottom line: I’ve scratched that particular concern off the list of Things To Worry About, Zombie Apocalypse Edition.  My odds of surviving the zombie apocalypse have gone from Very Nearly Zero to Very Nearly Zero, But With Much Sharper Clarity.   

 

Um.  That may not be the selling point I was going for.