The Man in the Mirror

By Chloe Hauxwell

        As a child I dreamt of being an astronaut, or a firefighter, or a rock star, all completely normal occupations for a small boy to fantasize over. Once I entered the adult realm and realized I was afraid of heights and fire and had absolutely no musical ability whatsoever I decided it was probably in my best interest to get a business degree. Being the introvert that I am, I wanted a job where there was little to no human interaction. I graduated college and stepped out into the real world to start living my life as a data entry specialist, also known as a typist. I sit at computer for 7 hours a day looking at numbers on paper and copying them into spread sheets. I don’t know what the numbers are for or where they end up, but I get paid a reasonable salary and only have to say hi to Martha the receptionist at the front desk of the building I work in. Martha is nice enough but she is always smacking a piece of gum like a cow chewing its cud. Chewing gum repulses me.

        I leave my home every morning at exactly 7:30 in order to make it to the bus stop before the C13 arrives. I allow myself plenty of time to read the newspaper and give my beautiful wife Sandra a kiss on the cheek before putting on my hat on my way out the door. The C13 is my favorite bus. There are 2 other buses that I could ride to work without any complications but C13 is perfect. There are only 4 other people who are on the bus from the point it picks me up to when it drops me off. One of my fellow passenger’s name is Carl. The C13 is his home; well Carl doesn’t have a home so he lives on the bus.

        Most of my days run together, like a never-ending cycle of home, bus, work, bus, home. This is what I like to call the city pace. The only thing that changes day to day is what my beautiful wife Sandra makes for dinner. Though the food changes, we always sit in the same chairs in front of the TV watching crime shows. My beautiful wife Sandra loves anything that has a steamy detective protagonist. This doesn’t bother me. We are as in love as the day we met. I think this is why she wasn’t upset when I told her about Ruby.

        Ruby was a woman I met waiting for the C13 one morning. I had never seen her in the 12 years that my beautiful wife Sandra and I had lived in our neighborhood. Ruby was stunning though. She wore red everyday. Sometimes it was her dress, others her shoes, and my favorite was her lips. I never learned her real name but I like to call her Ruby. She talked on the phone a lot and always with such enthusiasm. I don’t think I ever saw her frown, not once.  The way she spoke was intelligent but not stiff. She was always on time to catch the C13. These were all things I told my beautiful wife Sandra.

        “She sounds lovely dear. Maybe we can invite her and her husband over for dinner soon.” Sandra hated having company as much as I hated company.

        “She’s not married sweetheart I told you. She moved here recently to start a new job as a fashion stylist and is settling in quite nicely.”

        “I thought you said you hadn’t spoken to her?” Sandra didn’t even look up from the book she was reading.

        “Well I haven’t, these are all things I’ve heard through her conversations with her mother.” Though Ruby never frowned, she always had a slight hint of resentment in her voice, in which case I assume it is her mother on the receiving end. Sandra simply shrugged her shoulders and continued reading as I rolled over to go to sleep. Ruby had been in my dreams everyday for a month straight now. That is something I didn’t tell my beautiful wife Sandra.

        November 2nd I woke up, went the motions of the morning, and headed to the bus stop. It was a strange day, the sun hid behind the clouds and there was a slight mist of water falling from the sky. As the C13 approached I began thinking about the grueling 7 hours I would have to endure for the umpteenth time. Then I saw Ruby and my mind went blank. She wasn’t about to cross the street in her normal spot, she wasn’t on the phone, and she wasn’t smiling. She stepped off the curb just in time for the C13 to catch her left leg, pulling her underneath its large metal body and discarding her behind it as if she were merely just another bug on the windshield.         My feet were cemented to the Earth as what had just happened sunk in. There was a ringing in my ears that grew louder as I slowly moved in her direction. What was left of Ruby was not puddles of blood or shattered bones, but artificial viscera made from red and blue wires and a metal frame that acted as a skeleton. The rain hitting the frayed wires made small sparks that almost resembled tears.

She had worn her red lipstick that day which was now smeared across her face, she was smiling again.

        No one stopped but me. I tried to call for help but got no reply. I sat over her mutilated body reeling in my shock and disbelief. This had to be one of my Ruby dreams. There was no way this was real life. The C13 would’ve stopped; people would’ve run off to help. A street sweeper was coming our direction and I screamed and waved my arms to get the driver’s attention but to no avail. His machine swept the crime scene clean of any evidence that Ruby had even existed. I pinched myself and felt nothing, but I wasn’t dreaming, whatever Ruby was, she was gone now.

        I didn’t go to work that day. I haven’t ridden the C13 since. I walk to work now in order to avoid the bus system all together. I walk into work and I don’t bother saying hi to Martha though she smacks her gum at me and proceeds to enter into a conversation of small talk seemingly with herself. I ride the elevator to the floor of my office and start to walk back to my cubicle. Every single person in the room is typing away at the keys of their computer, the only sound being the slurping of coffee or an occasional ringing phone. How many people in this room right now are like Ruby? I wonder to myself. If Levi were to get a paper cut would he bleed?

        I sat at my computer starring at my reflection in the black screen as the machine whirled on and began warming up. Maybe Ruby had only been a figment of my imagination, and that is why Sandra or I had never seen her around the neighborhood. I’m not crazy; I’m just asleep, that’s it. I got up and walked out of the office 6 hours and 15 minutes before my shift was over. Martha tried stopping me and asking where I was off too but I simply strolled past without saying a word.

        I walked down the street and started studying people’s walking patterns. Everyone walks differently, their strides and speed varies almost as much as their physical appearances. I decided to walk down a street I’d never taken before and heard music playing. I moved toward the sound and examined each person I passed. There were men in suits and men in shorts, women in heels and women in sneakers. How could I not know that Ruby was a robot? She spoke fluently, seemed to have emotions and was obviously creative presumably from her career.

        I made it home and Sandra scurried down the stairs holding a baseball bat. “Who’s there!” she exclaimed, “I have a weapon and I’m not afraid to use it!” She may have been semi-convincing had her voice not been shaking.

        “It’s only me Sandra, I left the office early today.”

        “Oh, is everything alright?” Her face was blank; she didn’t seem genuinely concerned at all.

        “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just a rough week I guess.” I hadn’t told Sandra about Ruby’s murder, she would have only acted shocked and then forgotten all about it. “What were you up to upstairs?” I was curious as to why she wasn’t outside in the garden, or reading a book in the study.

        “Oh, I was just out gardening earlier and was about to take a shower I feel filthy.” There wasn’t a speck of dirt on her.

        “Alright well I think I’ll just sit and watch TV for a bit then and maybe after your shower we can go for a walk?” I was suspicious of why she had lied about gardening and wanted to gauge her reaction of spending some time with me away from the buffers of books or cooking.

        “Well sure! Let me just go freshen up and I’ll be down in a few minutes!” This was strange, she hated walks, there was too much potential for neighbors trying to talk to her, or children bumping into her.

        I sat and waiting until I heard the shower start running. It was quite hot outside that day and Sandra loved nothing more than showing off her legs, which means she would want to shave. There was one way to make sure the woman I married was not like Ruby. I slunk up the stairs and stood outside the bathroom door listening to her poorly sing “That’s Life” by Frank Sinatra. Then I heard her shaving cream can dispense an ever so small dollop of cream. This was my chance.  I burst through the door and shouted her name, “Sandra!” She shrieked and fell with a “shit!” and a thud.

        “God dammit what the hell Parker! You made me cut myself with my razor!” I stood there almost not wanting to see the outcome. What if she was like Ruby and there was no blood circling the drain? How would I handle the thought that I had married and screwed a machine? I slid back the curtain and sighed a breath of relief, blood and lots of it. Good.

        Sandra had tears in her eyes but no sparks. Hallelujah she was human. I helped her out of the tub and patched up her cut. She wouldn’t talk to me for a few days and kept giving me concerned looks. She had phone conversations behind closed doors with her sister, but she used the landline so obviously I listened in. All the conversations were about me.

        “I’m serious Amy he’s different. He scared me while I was showering and when I cut myself with my razor he wasn’t concerned at all, he didn’t even apologize. I’m getting worried about him. He has eaten anything for 2 days and hasn’t been to work in just as long. What do I do?”

        “Sandra, you can come stay with me. It sounds like Parker isn’t stable. Maybe he just needs some time alone. Tell him Sam has a soccer game and he really wants his aunt Sandra to come watch him play.” That would never have worked even if I didn’t know the actual story. Sam was so athletic he acted like sports were a poisonous snake. But I let her go. There was no point in keeping her here against he will. Plus I knew she wasn’t just a robot here to inform on me to the FBI.

        The second night Sandra was gone I sat and watched one of our detective shows. The episode showcased a masked murder who turned out to be the protagonist’s twin brother. I started to think about how you may think you know someone so completely but really only know the mask they put on for you. I shut off the TV and went to change into my clothes for bed. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror formulating ways I could apologize to Sandra when she came back from her sister’s. I would have to tell her about Ruby, how there are robots who live alongside humans without anyone knowing, how a robot had made me believe she was a human.

         I was about to leave the bathroom when something caught my eye, Sandra’s razor. I stood and starred for the longest time, not entirely sure why I was so drawn to it. I walked over and picked it up. I took my thumb and popped one of the blades out and help it up to look at it. Then something strange took over my body. My hand holding the blade slowly moved to my other arm as it moved to meet the blade halfway. I placed the blade right where my hand met my wrist and plunged the sharp metal into my skin, dragging it toward my elbow.

        No blood.

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