[ WP ] A person 's eye colour correlates to what superpower they have , activated at age 18 . You are the first person to be born with totally black eyes .

Eyes are the window to the soul. Isn ’ t that how the saying goes? I have always been told I am naive when I quote that. This isn ’ t magic, this is science. The pigments adopted by the iris occurs as a direct result of the electro-magnetic forces in the brain stimulating the colour formation processes. The areas where the forces are most concentrated have the strongest effect resulting in the person ’ s psychic ability and strength. I heard a theory recently, describing how, in quantum physics, time and space is not linear at all, it is not even physical. Instead, our 3D world is merely a projection, thrust out from another dimension and shone against the background of nothingness, just as an image is against a white screen. Only this “ image ” contains our time, our space, our universe. 
 
 If this is true then reality is malleable. The laws of physics are consistent but our experience of them is not. If time and space is not linear, but more squished together in an ever changing, fluxing scribble, then some lives may have realities that stretch out for millennia, whilst others are over in an instant. Yet our perception is the same. Perhaps this is why I find it so strange how powers manifest in a physical form. Super strength is not a result of extra muscle mass or increased ADP production, more it is the ability to shift the perception of reality around them. To change the shape of the universe and influence the laws of physics, just for a moment. If the universe is only a projection, then perhaps this is not changing the reality, only a warped copy of it, the one we experience. Perhaps that is why we can do it. 
 
 I look around. I am sitting on the bench outside the university, students wandering by laughing and chatting idly, celebrating the end of exams, or else shuffling past anxiously, clutching folders full of notes, as they prepare for their final exams. I look down at the pile of physics text books, stacked up beside me. One more exam left, beginning in only 9 minutes. I look at my watch. I should probably go. But I don ’ t. Today is the day. Today is my 18th birthday. In exactly three minutes time I will know what I have been fascinated with all my life. What will my power be? What is my purpose? 
 
 I look again at the students milling around. Some have eyes of green, some of blue, or red or yellow, many a mixture of different pigments, displaying hundreds of shades and patterns. There is a girl to my right, laughing with her friends, throwing sand into the air. She is wearing a bright dress of blue and white and her thick, wheat coloured hair is tied up in pigtails with red ribbons at each end. I watch as the sand disappears in mid-air, and then spirals down again as bright, sparkling glitter to land at her feet. Her eyes are blue, but if you look closely you see every colour from, red, pink, gold and silver freckling the sea of colour. She can make anything shine. I look away. I've known for years Rose was too good for me. Pure and brilliant and always able to see the best in everything. Her power matches her down to a tee. 
 
 I look back at my watch and start. Ten seconds to go. Ten seconds till I find out who I am. My heart hammers in my chest and I feel sweat prickle the back of my neck. My hands feel clammy suddenly. Black eyes. The only person to ever be recorded having black eyes, not a hint of pigment. Do I have no power, or am I simply evil? A vessel for all those lost and alone? Three seconds. I suppose I will know now. Two seconds. Who I am, what I am worth. One second. I take a deep breath. 
 
 The world jolts. My feet are thrust from underneath as the Earth shifts backwards and I fall to the floor. Time seems to shift as I feel reality unravelling beneath my fingers. My eyes are still closed, yet I can see the strings of colour separate, see how they weave between each other, how they hold the structure of reality together in a glorious quilt of time and space. Time slows and I can see in my mind how I can pull at the strings, tug them, twist them and redesign them to change, alter the universe we are in. This is our reality, the one we are projected in, the only one we ever know. As I thread I feel the universe tighten and shift, one thread pulling on another. Reality is malleable. I pull and twist and weave and feel the strings disintegrate beneath my fingers, fall apart into dust amongst the threads. I close the last thread and pull my hands back, ready to face what I have done. 
 
 When I open my eyes again there is nothing. I feel nothing, I hear nothing, I am nothing. I have made myself disappear. Removed myself from the projection that is reality. I never belonged here and I do not wish to remain. Even my memory should not stay and I have ensured it does not. I no longer exist, never have and never will. My sense of reality begins to fade, my memories drift away and my thoughts are the last thing to linger. My eyes are black. Blackness, the colour of absence. A void. 

