I stand in front of the smudged mirror. Does she ever clean her mirror, I think. Her lipstick hovers in front of her mouth. She purses her lips, and checks for any smudges. Then she fluffs her hair, spraying hairspray carefully over her blond waves. I know her routine by heart. Her name is Molly. I know her better than anyone, because I am her reflection. I watch her as she watches me, checking herself for any signs of imperfections.

Your reflection is alive. We  have thoughts and feelings. We each have a person assigned to us when we are created. We follow them from mirror to mirror, a perfect duplicate of them.

Molly moves from her tiny, cramped bathroom full of hair styling wands and makeup brushes. I follow her, walking down the long, silver hallway to the next mirror waiting for her. I peek out the corner of the mirror watching her. She grabs her purse and keys and walks towards me. I’m behind the hallway mirror when she stops, checks her makeup, and leaves.

I continue through my silver hallway. Reflections have their own “hallways” they’re more like passageways than hallways, I suppose. They connect mirrors. When there is more than one person looking into a mirror, there is more than one reflection behind it. We can see our person at all times, so we know when to slip into the mirror.

Being a reflection is hard, lonely work. I only rest when she rests, and I rarely talk with the other reflections. The exception would be Abby, Molly’s friend’s reflection.

Mirrors sometimes break because of reflections. If the reflection does not belong in the mirror, the mirror will break. Evil reflections sometimes do that, slip into the mirror when it isn’t their person. This leads to fear and ghost hunts, believe it or not. It’s a public relations nightmare for the people in charge. ReflectCorp. is the big company in my world. They make sure mirror swaps don’t happen, or that if they do, they are dealt with.

An even bigger issue than mirror swaps would be “switching.” A reflection “switches” a person when they switch the person for the reflection. The bring the person into the mirror, and put themselves into the person’s place, stealing their identity. ReflectCorp. deals with this issue seriously, sometimes by forced amnesia or memory removal, but sometimes through more extreme measures, like extermination of both the person and reflection.

Today is largely uneventful, I perform my duty well, as always. Later that night, when Molly is asleep, I get a notification. I am needed.

I enter the passageway from the edges of Molly’s bedroom mirror. I open a door into my world. It is similar to the human world, except our world is darker, greyer. There is less color and most of the light is artificial.

The reflections I pass are off duty, their person asleep.

I speak into the com on my left wrist, “I’m here, where do you need me?”

My com crackles, “Headquarters, at once.”

I know what this means. There’s been an emergency. Either a swap or a switch. Whichever one, it’s up to me to fix it.

“Headquarters” is a huge building, constructed out of concrete and glass. At fifteen stories tall, it’s the highest building in the city.

I push through the heavy doors, walking fast and purposefully. My assistant interrupts my thoughts.

“Here’s your gun,” He hands me my weapon. “They need you in the Conference Room pronto.” Guns in our world shoot light, not bullets. Bullets don’t harm reflections but light does. Our world is safer, to some degree. There’s no gun violence like in the human world.

“Got it, thanks,” I answer.

I sigh, this must be big. Normally the Conference Room is a big deal, all the big cases are handled in there.

“Good, you’re here,” the headmaster says as I enter the Conference Room.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I reply. The headmaster is the head honcho of Headquarters. He’s the boss, the fearless leader if you will.

The headmaster slides a manila folder across the mahogany table. I pick it up, setting my gun down.

Inside the folder are several pages of information. I scan the pages, trying to discern the important facts from the unimportant ones. Today, there was a swap. Only this time the reflection decided to hold his person hostage instead of actually swapping himself for the person.

“Why didn’t the reflection take the person’s place?” I ask. This never happens, incomplete swaps.

“Beats me. I just need you to hunt him down. You know the drill,” the Headmaster replies.

“Is this case high profile?” I ask. “Or is it just dangerous enough to be dealt with quickly?”

“Both.”

“Oh, that’s why you’re here,” I say, thinking carefully. This must be important.  

“Yes,” He answers. “Get going.”

“Yes, sir.” I grab my gun and head for the door. The file says the evil reflection, “e-flect” if you will, is in sector six, door eighteen. Our world is set into sectors. The doors lead into the passageways where their mirrors are located.

I head to the light-way, what we use to get places fast. I swipe my ID card. This particular light-way is not public transport, but an official government transport. I settle back into the seat and wait. Seconds later, the whole compartment moves down the tracks. It’s almost as fast as what humans call “light speed.” The journey is over in under a minute. I have traveled eight sectors, the equivalent to a couple hundred thousand miles.

Exiting the compartment, I see the door; the number eighteen inscribed in the dull metal. I pull my gun out of my holster and open it. The passageway is more dimly lit than the one I’m used to. It is mostly empty of reflections and quiet.

I edge along the wall, avoiding the mirrors lining the edges. The e-flect and his hostage should be just around the corner.

I peek out from the safety of my cover. The e-flect has already changed. That really isn’t good. Reflections, e-flects specifically, change when their person enters our world. The presence of their person has a mutation effect on them.

The e-flect’s skin is pale and his teeth have turned into fangs. His clothes are shredded because his body has contorted into a much bigger and stronger form. He growls, guttural and low. His eyes are black and menacingly narrowed. I see his person, body crumpled on the hard passageway floor. A small pool of blood is pooling from his head. It appears he’s still alive because I can see his chest is rising.

The e-flect sniffs the air. I fear he has caught my scent. Suddenly, he moves, crouched low and moving fast. I tense up, my gun at the ready.

The e-flect lumbers around the corner, fangs bared. He rushes towards me when he sees me. I aim quickly and pull the trigger. A ball of light shoots out from my gun, striking the e-flect in his chest. He roars, appearing undamaged.

“Just die already!” I shout as I dodge one of his blows. I duck and parry using my forearm to shield my face from his fist.

He snarls as he lunges at my throat. The e-flect snaps at air as I throw my head back, away from his killer fangs.

I pull the dagger out of the holster at my hip and stab him. He backs away, then runs at me again. I reload my gun and aim as I dodge another blow. This one connects, and my side burns at the sudden pain. My gun falls from my grasp. I scramble to get it, but the e-flect drags me backwards. I grab the e-flect’s arm, trying desperately to loosen his grip and free myself.

I slash at his muscled arm as I struggle. His grip slackens and I’m free. I race forwards and pick up my gun. Aiming at his head, I pull the trigger. Another ball of light shoots out and this time strikes the e-flect in the head. His head explodes and grey sludge coats the metal walls. His body crumples and falls with a thud.

I check on his person. He’s still laying unmoving on the floor. I check him for signs of life. He’s alive and only injured. His head has stopped bleeding and the abrasion is shallow.

I’m surprised he isn’t dead. He would’ve been soon if I hadn’t gotten here. I scan him with my medscan. His brain activity is normal. His eyes flutter and then open.

“Get away from me!” He shouts, backing up against the wall.

How ungrateful!

“I’m a good guy, I just saved your life,” I snap. Doubt flickers in his eyes.

“Really?” he asks, tentatively.

“Yes,” I answer tersely.

“Thank you,” he answers. I can see the questions in his eyes. I better make this quick.

“Anytime.” I take out my memory wiping device or mem-wipe and point it at his temple. I pull the trigger and a light flashes. It signals the current has been sent into his brain. The current affects the limbic system, or part of the brain that deals with memories. It makes his forget everything from the past twenty-four hours.

He shudders once and passes out. A new reflection will be assigned to him and all of this, if he remembers any, will be like a dream. I pick him up and push him out the mirror. He lands with a thud, once again in his own world.

I speak into my comlink, “The body is ready for pick up.”

“Ten-four, well done.”

My work here is done.

I head home, relieved to have escaped alive. Molly is still fast asleep when I return to my sector. She rolls over is her bed, snoring lightly. I prefer it this way, watching and waiting. Hiding just out of sight in the mirror until she needs me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.