For Better Vision, Living in the Dark

An experimental treatment for lazy eyes required living with a total stranger, in complete darkness, for ten days.
Illustration by Tom Bachtell
Illustration by Tom Bachtell

Amy and Carl (both pseudonyms) had never met before they decided to move in together earlier this year. Amy was a twenty-four-year-old Upper East Sider with a live-in boyfriend, and Carl was a fiftysomething security guard with two kids. What brought them together was the fact that they have lazy eyes—Amy’s left, Carl’s right.

A neuroscientist, Elizabeth Quinlan, of the University of Maryland, had found a way to treat lazy eyes in rodents by exposing them to an extended period of darkness, after which their brains readjusted to the light, like infants learning to see for the first time. A team led by Quinlan and Ben Backus, of the SUNY College of Optometry, had secured National Institutes of Health funding for a human trial, but, after a search lasting months, Amy and Carl were the only qualified volunteers, aside from a third subject who dropped out after thinking twice about the treatment: living with total strangers, in complete darkness, for ten days.

“I’m worried about waking up and feeling like I’m buried alive,” Amy said, as she and Carl settled into their new home, a small apartment in Crown Heights. The research team had unscrewed all the light bulbs, disconnected the gas stove, and blacked out the windows. (The police were notified that there was nothing nefarious afoot.) The faintest hint of light could invalidate the results, so Amy stepped outside to smoke one last cigarette as Backus explained that his team had installed a series of three doors leading into the apartment, so that meals could be delivered without admitting light. There was no scientific precedent for leaving people together in the dark for so long, so Backus had conducted a dry run in the master bedroom of his house, in New Rochelle. “We’re not letting them drink any alcohol,” he said. “I downed a glass of wine and ended up in the closet.” He had been trying to find the bathroom.

Amy and Carl initially faced the same issues as any new roommates—Amy liked the apartment hot; Carl liked it cold—plus those that come with not being able to see. During one dinner, Amy, who is a pescatarian, accidentally forked a piece of chicken off Carl’s plate. The apartment had an exercise bike, and games for learning Braille, but Amy, whose boyfriend wasn’t thrilled that she was living in the dark with another man, worried about growing restless. “I need something to do besides getting dressed in the morning,” she said. There was a guitar in the apartment, and she planned to learn how to play. Carl had a bottle of NyQuil.

The hallucinations began on Day Two. Amy saw a blue triangle above her bed. Carl saw two cubes rotating in space. “They’re starting to fall into classic Charles Bonnet syndrome,” Backus said, citing a condition in which people who’ve gone blind think they can see things that aren’t there. Their other senses seemed to improve—fruit was sweeter, whispers audible—and sounds, like a creaky door, triggered more hallucinations. When the subway rumbled down Eastern Parkway, Amy saw black and gray circles spinning, like wheels. “The coolest one happened last night,” she said, on Day Five, noting a hallucination in which she felt as if she were underground, looking up through a sewer grate, as cars passed in front of a street lamp. The subjects hallucinated most often when they were alone.

The darkness could be overwhelming—an optometrist who visited had to quickly leave—but Amy and Carl adjusted to it, and to each other. They went to bed early and woke up late, feeling less buried alive than back in the womb. Amy didn’t do much guitar-playing, but they sang karaoke using wireless headphones. (On Day Seven, Amy chose a Barenaked Ladies song: “It’s been one week since you looked at me.”) After a few days, they could high-five each other. They reported feeling less self-conscious. “I’m sticking my tongue out right now,” Amy said. “You stay human even though it’s dark,” Carl said.

By Day Ten, however, they were ready to leave. The apartment smelled of mildew. Amy needed a cigarette. Darkness filled their dreams: Carl had had one in which thick black oil flooded his home, while Amy dreamed that, when the lights came on, her lazy eye was cured but she was now cross-eyed. As Backus and Quinlan prepared to turn on the lights, the subjects were warned not to expect immediate improvement. (The results remain inconclusive, with another study in the works.) But when the researchers switched on a one-watt bulb, to help them adjust, and Amy and Carl found themselves able to see for the first time in ten days, both of them reported that, at least for the moment, the world looked sharper than ever. ♦