The Girl in the Mirror - Chapter 1

The mirror in my hand is cracked and filthy, reflecting my face as a kaleidoscope-like array of colors. The image I see is barely recognizable as me, let alone a human. This is what I’ve become. This is what they made me into.

The distinguishable features look exactly like me. Same bright green eyes. Same haphazardly chopped off black hair. But I know I’m wearing a mask that they gave me.

I want to get out of this costume, to run away from this play of lies. I can’t, though. They’d shun me, leave me behind. Or turn me into one of their slaves.

“Miri?”

I shove the mirror back into the drawer and turn to Rachel, who’s standing in the doorway. Her once bright eyes now hold an unblinking, empty stare. She moves in quick jerks, keeping her posture as stiff as possible. She once was my friend. Now she’s a machine.

“Miri. It’s time to go.”

My hand lingers on the knob for a few moments before falling to my side as I join her. Even though all the lightbulbs in the narrow hallway are smashed, I can see the paint on the walls are peeling and covered with cobwebs. I can hear hundreds of moving metal parts inside of her, whirring endlessly in the silence that hangs over us.

The others’ hushed conversations float into the air as we walk across the vast indoor balcony and down the stairs that lead to the lobby. Once, this building was a luxury hotel. Now it’s a base for the twisted world government.

When we reach the ground floor, Rachel shuffles off to the next room to join the other servants, leaving me along among the other members of The Utopian Standard. They all either ignore me or shoot disgusted looks my way before going back to talking to someone.

I just stand there, waiting until we can get out of this place. The sky outside the glass domed ceiling is a dark gray, casting a weird sort of darkness on everything.

Ferris, the leader of Branch 334, steps out of the servant room, his face emotionless. It’s always like that. Apparently emotion is mankind’s greatest weakness, according to him.

“Has anyone seen Laura?” Even with his voice monotone, I can tell he’s seething underneath. It’s a relatively small building. Laura, a young woman that joined a few months ago, must have run away.

“Well? Anyone?” A little bit of his frustration seeps through, which causes a disturbance in the crowd. Everyone shakes their head or murmurs a quiet no.

“In that case, our departure will be –”

“Sir. I found her. She was under a dresser, obviously trying to hide.”

Ferris turns around looks up to the terrace, where a servant I don’t know is holding a very frightened Laura by the collar of her dress.

“Oh. Thank you, Amanda.” Ferris can’t help but show some smugness as he walks up the marble stairway and takes Laura by the hand.

She doesn’t protest. They march down to the lobby, where we all watch, waiting to hear a verdict. Ferris is wearing a hint of a smile on his face, while Laura just casts her eyes to the ground, biting her lip. Everyone had been warned of the dangers of running away, but I had never seen it happen in person.

“Go on, everybody. Laura and I’ll talk this over later.” He lets go of Laura, almost shoving her into the arms of the servant that faithfully follows behind him. Her eyes glisten with tears as she watches him weave through the crowd and open the double glass doors. The people near the entrance, the ones with the higher rankings, silently push through the narrow opening. We all follow onto the abandoned sidewalk.

This isn’t right. I don’t blame her for refusing to go with this sick organization. I should go up to Ferris right now and tell him how cruel he is, how cruel this whole scheme is. If anything, Laura should be recognized for her bravery, not have her brain replaced with a jumble of wires and metal.

We march forward, past crumbling skyscrapers and empty concrete fields where people have took the chunks of the buildings for themselves. Everyone’s eyes are faced forward, focused on the path ahead of them. I don’t think anyone dares to break the fragile silence Laura’s capture brought.

The buildings suddenly stop invading the corners of our vision, and we’re walking down a highway that snakes through rolling hills. It’s the first sign of life other than the members of Branch 334 that I’ve seen since we came to what was once New York.

I move over to the edge of the mass of people just to get a better look at the grass. The bright green blanket that covers the landscape is a sharp contrast with the grays of the sky and the deserted city. It’s the only reminder in sight that there was a time before mankind destroyed the earth.

The person in front of me suddenly stops, and I nearly crash into him. We’ve stopped.

“Okay. Everyone in.” I can hear Ferris press the button that opens the doors to the train that sits on the tracks. We’ve used the abandoned railways to our advantage, criss-crossing the country in various trains that no one uses anymore. It was once a big industry, but when the fuel ran out, the tracks were just a bitter reminder of the time when getting to the next city was easy.

Government officials say all the trains they use are electric. Most know better than believe them. I’ve seen servants haul huge amount of coal to the stations, coal that should’ve been used for civilians.

Most people also know better than to question the Utopian Standard.

I instinctively reach into the pocket of my jeans as the crowd moves forward, getting boarding one by one. My ID card isn’t there.

“Hey, I’ve lost my card.” No one seemed to listen among the sudden buzz of conversation. “Hello? My ID card. I’ve lost it.”

Still no response. I get on my knees, frantically searching the pavement and the grass for the little piece of plastic. Without it, I’m considered a stowaway. It doesn’t matter if I’ve been traveling with them for the past four years. No ID card, and you’re made a servant.

The road is empty by the time I stand up, but the doors to the cabin are still open.  I make a run for it, screaming for them to wait for me, forgetting the ID card.

Hiss. The doors start to close as I’m halfway there, moving out of sight and down the small hill I’m on as the train accelerates to the point where it’s impossible to jump on. I watch, dread crushing me, as it rushes by in a blur of black and red. The green caboose whishes by, and I’m left staring at the horizon.

It’s gone.