The Mirror Paradox

Paul stared at his screen. The list of available jobs fit on one page. As he looked down the list, his heart sank. He did not have the qualifications or experience to do any of the jobs.

"Computer Aided Design Team Manager," he read aloud. "I could probably manage the CAD stuff but no one in their right mind would put me in charge of a team." He sighed and continued to look down the short list.

His eyes drifted to the picture that sat next to his computer. It showed him smiling next to a beautiful woman who was turning to kiss his cheek. Paul’s expression grew sad and a tear came to his eye. "Why did you have to die? I can't do this on my own, Zoe." He put his head into his hands and cried openly.

His wife had died in a car accident six months ago, and he had struggled to adapt to the situation and had lost his job because of too many absences. He needed to get back into work to keep up his mortgage payments, but his confidence had been rocked and even jobs that he knew he could do now looked hopelessly out of reach for him.

After a short time, he managed to compose himself enough to turn his attention back to his monitor. His hand hovered over the mouse before he finally brought it down. The cold plastic surface tingled in his hand.

He scrolled down the page, the middle mouse button seemed to hum as he rubbed his finger against it. He was met by the sight of more jobs that he didn't think he could do, always something in the wording of the ad that made him feel inadequate.

His eyes began to lose focus, the words on the screen became a hopeless blur. He continued to scroll until right at the end of the page, the words seemed to clear into crystal clarity.

He stopped scrolling and stared at the screen before he slowly read out the job title.

"Chief Engineer and Physics Officer." His eyes widened and he took a deep breath, then continued to read. "Job purpose: to lead a team of engineers to complete a classified project. More details will be given to the successful candidate."

He continued to read as the job description became more and more vague. His hope began to fade as his self-doubt again tore into his mind and he turned away from the screen.

"It's hopeless, I can't do anything anymore," he said as he once again put his head into his hands and cried. His mind drifted to better days. The days he and Zoe had shared, though they had been far too few. They had been married less than a year when that drunk driver had robbed him of his one true love, but the man had also died in the crash.

Paul imagined what he would have done if he'd been able to confront him. He ran the conversation over in his mind, over and over again. Why had he been drinking and driving in the first place? Had the man just been deeply unhappy himself, driving him to such a reckless act, or had he just not cared about the consequences of his actions? But no matter how long Paul churned these thoughts and questions over in his head, he came no closer to an answer. He felt no closure, only the pain of loss.

Afternoon rolled into evening. A crisp breeze blew through the open window next to Paul's desk, bringing his attention back to the room and the blinking light of his computer. His eyes drifted to the bottom right of his screen and saw the time, 8 p.m. Where had the day gone? He shuddered with the chill and got up and closed the window. His stomach growled loudly, but he could not find the will to go downstairs and start cooking, so he got into his pyjamas and sat back in front of the computer screen.

Something drew him back to the last job. "Chief Engineer and Physics Officer," he read aloud again. He considered the job purpose; a momentary confidence grew within him. "I could do that."

A flash of lightning lit up his room, illuminating everything in a blinding burst of light before it faded back to darkness. Paul hadn't even noticed the rain until now. But wait. He had just closed the window and there had been no rain then.

CRACK came the thunder, and with it Paul’s doubts returned in a foul twist. "Oh, who am I kidding?" he asked the darkness, but nothing replied. Or wait.

He listened carefully to the sound of the rain pattering on the window. Had he actually just heard something, or was it just his mind playing tricks? Moments passed and then—there.

"Hello."

A voice so quiet it was barely perceivable. Or was it a voice? Paul listened, and then sure enough:

"Hello, is there anyone there?"

Paul’s eyes shot open.

The voice — inside?

He froze.

If someone had broken in… why call out?

He moved towards his bedroom door and placed his ear to the wood and listened.

"Hello, please. There must be someone there."

Definitely inside the house. Paul walked to the corner and picked up his hockey stick. He had no idea why he'd kept it. He hadn't played hockey since Zoe had died, but all of a sudden he was grateful he had. He gripped it tight and moved back to the door and listened again. Quiet. The voice had stopped. He gripped the door handle and twisted it. The door clicked sharply as it unlatched, and Paul winced at the sound.

He stepped into the hallway, listening for the voice but heard nothing. He held the hockey stick out in front of him.

"Whoever's there, I'll give you five seconds to show yourself. I'm armed," Paul shouted to the darkness.

The reaction was immediate.

"Hello, oh thank God. I'm in here." the voice said calmly.

The voice came from the bathroom. Paul's eyes drifted to the door as he carefully made his way towards it. He held the hockey stick tightly in one hand as he reached out the other towards the bathroom door handle. Sweat dripped off his nose. Goosebumps sprouted on his arms. He twisted the door and pushed it open, quickly returning both hands to the hockey stick. He held it high, but there was no one.

Paul walked slowly and tentatively into the bathroom. "Where are you? I will hit you."

"I'm right here and there's no need for violence. My goodness, I can't remember being so uptight."

"Well, you're not me," Paul shouted as he flicked on the light switch, but there was no one there. "What the hell is going on?" Paul demanded of the empty room. "Show yourself."

"I'm right here in front of you. I'm not hiding or anything."

"Where?"

"You're looking right at me."

Paul stared forward. There was nothing there. Nothing but... There was something off about the mirror. As Paul stared at it, he became aware that his clothes looked a different colour and his hair — a touch of grey. He walked forward and stared at himself.

"Yes, now you're getting it." His reflection spoke independently. "I wondered how long it would take you, well, me."

"Am I dreaming?" Paul offered.

"Of course not." His reflection frowned and shook its head. "Was I really that narrow‑minded back then?"

"What do you mean?" Paul asked, his eyes widening.

"Well, I'm you, aren't I. You can clearly see that."

"Yes, but I was expecting to see my reflection, not whatever you are," said Paul as he wiped his hand across the mirror.

"Oh, grow up, Paul. I'm you, from the future."