Blinded by Starlight

There was a time when darkness infected every street after sunset. No light was powerful enough to starve the night before consuming the land. Humans learned long ago not to trust what waits in dark corners. The world halted from dusk until dawn. 

In a city that never sleeps, the night couldn't be ignored. Some had no choice but to brave the darkness and pray to the stars above that evil doesn't find them. The only ones awake to hear their pleas were the ones who hunt in the shadows. The prayers only gave them away. 

A sorcerer named Astraggiano tried everything to illuminate his village at night. He placed ever-burning torches along the streets, which worked for a while. He threw out that idea when he woke to half the town ablaze. He plucked sunbeams filtered through branches and hung them from posts. They dissolved as soon as the sun disappeared. He did these experiments for decades without success. 

One night, he looked up to the stars and cursed them for watching the night consume the land. Starlight twinkled in his eyes as the idea came to him. He reached up and plucked a star from the night sky. Instantly the night retreated around him. He set the star on one of his many wooden posts and waited. It shone all night. In the daytime, it disappeared, then reappeared when night returned. 

Astraggiano planted a star along village streets, covering the entire town in light. When he finished, he thought: why stop there? He gave each household a star. Then two. Then one for every room. 

This war against the night continued for generations, even after the sorcerer died. He passed his skill along to his apprentice, who passed it to his apprentice, and so on. The world forgot the art of light was born from sorcery. These days, it's known as something less exciting. 

– – –

Vince Astraggiano became an electrician for the benefits. 

He knew a trade job wouldn't get him much street credit. But his father was an electrician, and his father before him. This career felt written in the stars. 

Besides, he knew magic was a dying skill. His family lineage was one of the last to pass down archaic knowledge. Everything has become automated, rendering most magic useless. Light was one of the few things humanity relied on. 

It made Vince feel important. Every time he tore a star out of the night's tapestry, he knew another city block would be safe. A child could fall asleep with their night light. Ships would avoid a rocky grave along a shoreline. 

And yes, he did get dental and a 401k.

He clocked in before the sun rose and worked throughout the night. His ancestors had it easy. They could pick from millions of stars. It takes Vince hours for a new batch to emerge from the horizon. Some parts of the year are easier than others. He has driven out of town before to escape the light pollution made by all the stars on Earth blocking his view.

As he waited for stars to show themselves, he wondered if the first sorcerer considered this. One day, there would be no stars left. The endless night was not endless after all. 

He didn't think about it too long. The real possibility that his career would collapse on itself terrified him. He focused on his work, clocked in and out, and asked as little questions as possible. The stars would run out one day. But not today. 

He arrived at a customer's home one morning after scavenging the horizon for one little pinprick of light. The customer was an old man who watched Vince work with bored curiosity. Vince often wondered if older generations remembered a sky full of stars. He needed to hear that this is normal, that the sky has been low for a long time.

“Can I ask a weird question?” Vince asked, screwing the star in place on the ceiling. 

The old man wet his dry lips. “Why not?”

“What did the night sky look like when you were a kid?”

The customer went quiet. Vince thought he offended him. Why would an electrician care about something like that? Maybe he'd make a complaint to Vince's father. Vince hoped he would. Served him right for asking questions. 

“It was beautiful.”

Vince nearly fell over. The night sky was not beautiful. It was a pool of blackness that felt lifeless and cold in his hands. He looked at the customer, expecting a sarcastic smirk. There was a dreaminess to him. Nostalgia. 

“You could see the Milky Way from town square,” he continued. 

Vince froze. The Milky Way. Imagine that? Vince was jealous he got to see it before the starless nights blocked it from view.

The old man closed his eyes. Vince saw a smile tug on his thin lips.

“There were thousands of stars. Hundreds of thousands. People wrote songs about stars, made their clothes sparkle like the night. My father took me to the backyard and taught me the constellations. I loved the night.”

Vince didn't know what to say. He grew up in a world without darkness. He spent his life dedicated to lighting up the world. He has never loved the sky like the man did.

But he knew he could. 

“I can hardly sleep anymore,” the man said, opening his bloodshot eyes. “My wife had chronic stress problems. Couldn't ever settle down. Started giving her heart problems. And you know what her doctor recommended?”

Vince shook his head. 

“Blackout curtains. For the bedroom.”

Vince considered how the man now lived alone. He went quiet after that. 

Vince finished the job and scurried out of the house. When he stepped outside, he shielded his eyes from the sun, its rays suddenly too bright. He got in his company van, trying to adjust to the outdoor lighting, but his eyes wouldn't stop watering. He gave up on driving and started down the sidewalk. 

He looked in the windows as he passed. Even in the daytime, homes forced their little stars to shine. 

“Why are we so scared of the dark?” Vince wondered to himself. 

Because dangerous things hide in the dark. Humans wait in unseen places for their victims. We did not evolve to dominate the night. So we domesticated it.

Vince stopped and stared up at the blue sky. He thought stealing stars was saving humans. And it did, to a certain extent. But there was a limit to its benefit. The original sorcerer only found another temporary solution. What happened when the sky grew empty? When they paved new streets with no light left to illuminate them? 

Hours slipped by as Vince wandered the neighborhood. The thought of returning home, where every room held a star captive, made him sick. He steadied himself on a lamp post before his knees buckled. 

Overhead, a star flickered in its socket. Dusk loomed on the horizon. At some point, the star's position in the sky went dark, sacrificed for this lonely street corner. Every star was unique; an electrician remembered what quadrant they took it from, what constellation, the star’s name–if it had one. Vince found this one several years ago in the Triangulum constellation. HD 11007. A beautiful star with faint white light prime for a city street. Not too bright, like stars placed in stadiums or spotlights. Not tiny and harsh like the ones placed in phone flashlights. 

For years, HD 11007 had illuminated this street. In the end, what difference did it make? How many thefts did this light prevent? Did it guide anyone home? Vince was the only pedestrian on the block.

Vince looked around again. He really was alone. 

In a flash, Vince retrieved the company van and returned with his ladder. He climbed to the top and untwisted the star like he had a thousand times. The star pulsed in his grip.

“Be free,” Vince said, and extended his hand toward the heavens. He waited for the star to shoot for its vacant place in the sky. And waited. And waited. 

Vince frowned. Maybe there was another spell to release the star. He felt deep inside for the magic that allowed his fingertips to pluck stars out of the sky. He imagined it flowing in reverse. 

“You can go,” Vince whispered to the star.

It didn't budge.

He wrapped the star in his hands and climbed down the ladder. As far as he knew, no electrician ever returned a star. But he wouldn't give up that easily. 

All through the night, he read journals left by talented electricians. Tips for avoiding arc flashes, how to harness the star's energy for household appliances, signs a star is about to collapse. Every electrician wanted to prolong the usefulness of a star. No one considered putting them back. 

At some point, Vince slumped over in exhaustion face down in a journal. A knock at his apartment door startled him awake. He scrambled from his study and was almost to the door when he saw Vincent Astraggiano, Sr. in the entryway. 

“Dad?” he asked. 

Mr. Astraggiano stretched out his hand. Vince thought he was offering a handshake. Instead, he licked his thumb and swiped Vince's cheek. 

“Is that ink?” Mr. Astraggiano grumbled.

Vince jerked away from his father's touch. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t answer my calls.”

“I’ve been a little busy,” Vince retorted. 

Mr. Astraggiano’s eyes narrowed. “I see that.”

“Why did you call?” Vince asked. “Is something wrong?”

“The city reported a missing star from a street light. Since you were in the area yesterday, I wondered if you might have seen something.”

Vince froze. Stars didn’t go missing. Only trained electricians knew how to handle stars.

Mr. Astraggiano invited himself deeper into the apartment. Vince watched helplessly from the entryway. He didn’t know how to explain the journals piled on the desk. Thankfully Vince had the wherewithal to stash HD 11007 under his mattress. He had a hunch that Mr. Astraggiano would not approve of his newfound interest in returning stars to the sky. 

Vince realized his silence might be interpreted as guilt. He shoved his hands in his pockets and followed Mr. Astraggiano from a distance. “Well, that’s a shame,” Vince said. 

“Truly.” Mr. Astraggiano studied the journal open on the desk. “No matter. We will find whoever stole the star. Stealing city property is a felony.”

Vince’s knees wobbled. “A…felony?”

“Stars are invaluable.”

“Because they are irreplaceable.”

Mr. Astraggiano raised an eyebrow. Vince bit the tip of his tongue. 

“You’re jittery this morning,” his father remarked. 

“Stayed up studying. Haven’t had coffee yet.” It wasn’t a lie. Vince crossed his fingers behind his back, willing Mr. Astraggiano to see the truth laced in the excuse.

Mr. Astraggiano stared at Vince for several heartbeats. Then he snapped the journal closed, scattering dust through the apartment that glittered in the sunlight. Vince flinched. 

“You’ll keep an eye out for that star?” Mr. Astraggiano murmured. 

Vince nodded. It was all he could do to not let out a whimper. 

Once his father was long gone, Vince shot for his mattress and felt for HD 11007. He had to squint to see the orb in the daylight. Stars can exist in the day, but only shine if they are in a dark space. They cannot compete with the sun or other brighter fixtures.

A felony. Vince, finally alone, chuckled at that. It wasn’t a felony to take the stars from where they spent billions of years and plop them on city corners. Electricians could farm as many as they liked. But the city was more concerned about a single star missing from a street lamp than all the stars disappearing from the sky.

Or did anyone know the sky was running out of stars–besides electricians? Did they think the stars would be there forever, a constant stream of light to use in their homes and businesses? Were they so blinded by excess, they couldn’t see the fate of the stars?

A jolt of inspiration coursed through Vince. He set HD 11007 on the desk and ran around the apartment. He put his work uniform on backwards and laced his boots unevenly. He caught a glimpse of his cowlicked hair in the mirror, but didn’t bother smoothing it out. He had work to do. It couldn’t wait a second longer. 

With HD 11007 wrapped in a handkerchief, stuffed in his pocket, he started knocking on his neighbor’s doors. If the city knew stars were running out, then they could find another solution while the electricians put the stars back. 

The first door that answered his knocking was a middle aged woman. She looked Vince up and down, rocking the baby on her hip and ignoring the crying kid pulling on her pant leg. “Sorry, I don’t take solicitors,” she said, already shutting the door.

“Wait!” Vince exclaimed. “I’m not a solicitor. I installed a light fixture in your kitchen last month, remember?”

The woman paused. “Okay?”

“I’m bringing awareness to the community. There are few stars left in the sky. We use starlight more than what’s necessary, and soon, we will run out of stars. We have to create a new way of harnessing light and returning stars to their rightful place in the night sky–”

“What do you want me to do about it?” the woman barked.

Vince frowned. He thought the answer was obvious. “We stop using so many stars. We demand new energy sources from the city.”

“We still have stars to harvest?”

“Well…yes, but–”

“Then what’s the point in changing everything? Do you think I have time to worry about my family and the stars? They're useless in the sky–why should I care that there’s a few too many in my kitchen? Are you telling me that you gave me a faulty product?”

“No ma’am–”

“Great. Don’t come here again unless it’s for another installation.” The child on her leg beat her fists against the woman’s thigh. She groaned and slammed the door in Vince’s face. 

Vince let the interaction slide off his shoulders. Obviously the woman was a busy mother with a lot on her plate. A poor choice to throw his campaign onto. Surely others will have enough bandwidth to help spread the word.

But slammed door after slammed door, Vince got the same reaction. He changed his tactic, explaining there are few stars left, and within a generation, they will be gone. He went through the whole apartment complex, then ran up and down the block. He asked for less and less, eventually getting a clipboard for signatures. At the end of the day, his sheet had one name on it: Vince Astraggiano. 

There was one house left by the time the street lights turned on. He didn’t recognize the house until an old man opened the door. His customer from yesterday, the one who told him of a night sky filled with stars. 

“What’s this about?” the man grumbled. 

Vince held up the clipboard and gave his pitch. The day had left Vince’s explanation dry and lukewarm. He finished, already prepared to retreat off the man’s property. 

The man stared at him with a red face. Vince braced himself. He took verbal beatings all day. He could take one more.

“Give me that.”

Vince frowned. “What?”

The man grabbed the clipboard from Vince without another word. He scribbled a signature on the line below Vince, his gold wedding band clinking against the plastic pen. 

“Thank you,” Vince said in a daze. Then he added, “Can I ask…why? You’re the first person all day who’s signed this.”

“Because when I looked into the neighborhood last night and realized a street light had gone out, it was the first time in a long time I felt…peace. I sat under the broken post for hours. Even in my home, I can’t shut off my own head. The darkness reminds me to just...exist.”

The man clicked the pen and shoved the clipboard toward Vince. He stared at the paper in disbelief. 

“People will protest,” the man continued. “Because the stars are of no use from up there. But that’s why stars are beautiful. They have no purpose, and yet, they shine.”

Vince left the old man's home, swept away by nostalgia for a night he had never met.

The next morning, Vince ignored the headlines and press releases from the city. Apparently, street lights from all over went dark overnight. His mattress was more lumpy than usual. But with an usual lack of starlight in his apartment, he slept soundly into the morning.

According to the clipboard hung from the front door, his neighbors did, too. Crammed onto the page, signatures overlapped one another.

Mr. Astraggiano stared at the page, fist frozen mid-knock. The mayor's voice shouted through the speaker on his phone. "What is it? What's going on?"

He didn't answer. Mr. Astraggiano powered his phone off and gazed into the black screen. In the darkness, his reflection stared back.