Mirror

The flight attendants spoke in monotone. Whenever one would pass me they seemed only to look straight forward, and creepier than that, they looked directly into your eyes when talking to you. Dead, heartless eyes. They were all female. Not a single man was found among them. Usually airplanes always had one guy because people believe that it's discrimination for a specific type of person to do only one specific job. Maybe that's what that sex, or race, or ethnicity, or whatever is meant to do. As a 6 year old, I watched my male teacher complain to us that he didn't like to teach, and that he wasn't a girl so he could not be as good. It seems that people come so close to accomplishing something and yet because they did not see themselves as the person to do that type of job or hobby, that they quit it altogether.

My mom told me once, " Kayne, if you think you want to do something, you must first imagine that you are the person meant to do that. If you don't see yourself in that position, how will you ever reach it? How do architects design things correctly? They see it in their brains. They take the time to make sure that is built the way they imagined and designed it to be because otherwise it will fail at its duty. How do artists paint beautiful landscapes? They imagine themselves there first, or they go there… Kayne, whatever it is you do, imagine yourself there. Do you really want to do it?"

At that time, I just blew it off from her. I figured it was just another boring lesson parents gave us. But when I was 30 thousand feet above the ground, in a plane I never bought a ticket for, going to a test I never even knew existed, it was the thing I was thinking about most. Did I really want to do this or was this just for the satisfaction of my mom? I didn't want to do it. Of course not. I liked being at home. But something about staying home just didn't seem right. I didn't like staying in one place. Wasting my time.

Damian wasn't relaxed a bit. He was searching for every possible detail about Becca as possible. This man was dedicated.

"Dude!", he started

"Yeah?", my voice sounded extremely tired, which I really was not.

"If you double press here it shows where they are from!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! And here… uhhhh, There! Becca is from Portland!"

"Portland?"

"Uhh, I mean that is what it says."

Portland Oregon was half flooded. Why would her family move there? More importantly, why did she never tell us? So unlike her. She would've come to us or at least let us know she was ok.

I snatched my IR back from Damian and gave him a stern look.

"Damian," I reminded him, "You need to calm down."

He looked over at me. Quiet now. His eyes searching for something in mine. His pleading was heard. He finally had found something that he loved. Nothing had really given him as much joy as Becca.

I sighed "You have this moment later when you see her at the place we're going to, right? Let's just get through this flight first."

"Alright, " he said, turning away.

I bobbed my head out of my seat and looked up and down the aisle. This plane was moving with such a calm that I couldn't believe I was actually in it. There were 6 emergency exits all labeled with bright red marks, and the spaces between each row of seats was about a foot long. There were LED lights on the ceiling and roof, and the food offered did not taste bad in the slightest. I put my head down for what seemed like a minute or two and woke up from the sound of scratching.

It was behind my head. On top of my seat actually. Something in the top cushion was making noise. It traveled slowly down my seat making noise until it reached my thighs. There the noise went away. No sooner did I realize the same had just happened to everyone's seat. Damian was to busy talking with another blond boy on the other aisle. A monitor had been set up at the front of the plane showing how long we had been in flight. 35 minutes. I looked back down at my IR, fidgeting with the information of other B lettered people.

Gerard Dante, Ashley Bloom, and Me. B-24. There was a small little button on the screen that wasn't there before. I pressed it. Suddenly the screen turned to show a skeleton, slowly showing muscle and almost every biological thing about me. That's creepy. Why do they even care that much if we are just gonna take a test?

I decided not to mention it to Damian, figuring he would go insane and not stop talking. The plane started to lower with a large shrug. I read the screen at the front. 1+ hours. Already time had taken the better of me.

▲ ▲ ▲

It must have taken about two hours. The plane landed with ease as if falling onto an airsoft pillow. Everyone was slowly waking up, including Damian, who had finally stopped talking for once in his life to rest. The flight attendants rushed around, pushing, with effort, their carts with every type of drinks. Their faces were furious with determination in their action. They mastered their craft, moving swiftly up and down the aisle with no hesitation, rarely blinking. All of their name tags were letters. Letter W picked up my trash that I held in my hand. She seemed afraid and determined. I was curious and felt a bit pitiful when she picked my trash up. This flight attendant seemed more lively than the others.

"Don't worry, I can clean it up myself," I reassured her as I took her paper towel and wiped up the juice that I spilled. She jumped up, took the paper towel away after I finished cleaning, and took one look at me and rushed away. She looked like she wanted to cry. My pity levels were rising. The lights brightened from their gloomy glow and all of the workers on the plane ran back to the front until we were all alone. Nothing but the hum of the plane and a few coughs was all that was heard for a few moments.

"Where are they?" said one kid.

Suddenly a siren, from outside it seemed started blaring. Drrring! Drring! Drring!

I got up. I couldn't stand to bear the sound for much longer. Someone came from the front of the plane.

"They locked us in!," he yelled. "They left and before I could leave after them they closed the door and left!"

Some of the kids tried to break down the door separating us from the front and exit of the plane. I looked around. The seats came in rows of two. They lacked a luggage place on the ceiling like most airplanes. This wasn't any airplane. Damian wasn't taking the uncertainty well.

"What in the world bro? Aggh! Someone open the door!"

"Damian," I tried to reassure him, "this was probably planned, calm down"

I didn't really want to believe what I was saying either.

"What the heck are we supposed to do then genius?" one kid exclaimed after overhearing me.

"All I'm saying is, they wouldn't leave us in here by ourselves for no reason. I mean, come on. They probably want us to find a way out or something…" I rebutted.

The overall chatter of the people in the plane increased. Everyone started to run to the front, all working to get the door open. I didn't see the purpose of it. These people had locked us in, and they wouldn't make an escape obvious either. I got up and motioned for Damian to follow me. He was pacing back and forth. He got up, overwhelmed and followed me while tapping away at his IR.

"Do you think the answer is in here?"

"Maybe."

I doubted it, but I needed to be a good friend. He was smarter than me after all, he may have been right.

We walked down the aisle, towards the back, inching slowly- looking for any possible means of escape. Kids ran past us and towards the front, as a mob was being formed at the exit at the front, so dense with people that one might have suffocated from all of the pushing and shoving. Other kids were trying to sleep it off, believing they were in a dream, while others were huddling in circles planning their next move. How long had it been? Was it 15 minutes? 30 minutes? 2 hours? It was really anyone's guess. The windows were closed and there was no light coming in from the outside world keeping time a secret from us. There were however some emergency lights blinking in order towards the front. Their smooth purple haze made it harder to stay focused.

After checking the doors, windows, and practically any possible entrance -including toilets- everyone became tired and sat back down. We were starting to accept the fact that we were trapped. Time was moving faster and faster and we were more tired and tired. After what I assumed to be a few hours, things got quiet. The windows were locked we had discovered early, as well as the subtle disappearance of the crew. The door that had been banged on was dented probably an inch in the center, but it seemed to be reinforced so as to make sure no one broke out. The lack of flight attendants with food and drinks made the entire scene that much more tiresome and annoying. After some time people began to recede back to their seats. People just began quietly chatting to pass the time as most had decided to wait it out.

"So you're Kayne?" Asked a random kid that had walked over to me.

"Uhh, yeah, how'd you know?"

"I saw your name in the IR" he said, shaking the little device in his hands. "My name's Connor, im B-25 in the IR."

He stuck out his hand and looked at me expectantly, darting his eyes from his hands to me. He did have a way of making eye contact where one felt the impulse to simply accept whatever was being asked. So I shook his hand lightly.

"So, Kayne," He emphasized, "Weird name by the way, what question did they ask you to come here?"

"She asked me a few questions," I said, "but the first one was something about whether today is more important than tomorrow, or something along those lines. Honestly, I wasn't paying attention too much, I was tired."

"I see," he responded, " She asked me, if I had no other choice, which family member I would kill if I had no other choice."

"Woah, that's kinda intense, no? What'd u say?"

"I told her to stuff it, that I'd kill everyone else in the world then myself before my brother."

"What about your…"

"They died," he quickly finished.

I looked at him. His head was down, saddened but not in despair. His words and actions were confident and prepared, but poor Connor's eyes sold him out. His pain came through them, the light brown circles that man could never truly hide emotions in. He had accepted their death and moved on it seemed.

"All of them," he continued. "My brother and I now live with my uncle, or at least I did until I got that letter. I know better than to say no to the government."

I nodded. The government always made sure to get what it wanted. For them, the ends justify the means.

We kind of just sat there for a moment. Listening to nothing and everything. The quiet hum of society but the silence of justice. The screams of the past and the quick clearing of the throat from Connor.

"My dad died in the floods," I eventually said.

He looked at me, with a calm sense of understanding.

"We lived in Texas all happy and what not, ya know? As happy as someone can be. After the military, my dad worked in the Space Core. One day he came home in a rush. He ran in and took my mom by the hand, didn't say anything, and dragged her into their room. Me and my little sister ran over and put our ears on the door to listen in. They were whispering so I couldn't make out what they were saying. I do remember mom telling him to think of his kids first, of his family. They opened the door on us and we fell down in front of them. My dad wasn't mad though. He looked at me and smiled, he looked back at my mom, who reluctantly agreed with him. He told our entire town about the floods and prepared them because no one else would. His makeshift boat was the last one he attempted to make. It came three hours later. He got us out though."

He looked at me intently. Studying me. He finally sat down on the carpet floor and put his head on the side of my seat and looked outward, deep in thought.

He responded, "My parents never had the chance to find out. My brother and I were sleeping over a friend's house on the other side of the mississippi."

"Louisiana?" I inquired.

He half nodded. I had heard of the stories from Louisiana. Being next to the biggest river in the north quadrant made for the worst stories. It was all under deep water now.

"My friend's parents told me they were probably already on their way when we left. It was probably about an hour or two before it came. When we made it to Missouri, we caught up with our aunt and uncle. That's when they told us. My parents didn't find out with enough time."

We sat there, thinking of what could've been done, how else it could have happened, how the government could have told us, how anything could be different, But it wasn't. Reality is real and there is no point trying to say otherwise.

Everyone had quieted down and some had even taken time to sleep. As for me and Connor, the past was wrenching our eyes open.

The last few remaining individuals awake, me and Connor among them, numbered about 7 in total. I kept Damian awake as I didn't want to be alone and awake with all these people; poking him every time he seemed to doze off.

Had it now been 6 hours? Or maybe 7? I was never sure, the lack of light and the penetrating violet ambiance was very good at its job in putting people to sleep. Sometimes I think most people are anyways intentionally made to sleep. Like sometimes when my mom would make me watch the election cycle at home, knowing sure and well that President Carder would win again, I would lean back in my seat, make myself as comfortable as possible, and then try my best to sleep with my eyes open. I hated politics and so I slept. Everything about politics seemed wrong and idealistic. The idea that a perfect society is what we were creating under the new order and constitution seemed inconceivable to me. What the heck is a perfect society? Is everyone the same and they have to stay like that or are they all different and have to be respectful of each other? The latter of both seems like a problem. They tell us that we ought to be unique and true to ourselves while at the same time being a part of a group or party. How can one group individuals who are told to be unique? President Carder, true to herself, kept on reminding us, her people, to never quit on our daily struggles and to fight for what we believed was right based on who we believed. But what do we believe? Do we believe that cliche? Do we believe in a system that encourages individuals to be collectively individuals? Support your own personal belief by voting for someone who shares probably only half of them. Most people know that their vote won't matter if they vote on a person who seems to lose, so they vote on the most likely person to win that they hate the least. Polarization creates a blind society, chains on its feet and helmets on its head. Those who dominate the news restate news that pushes their own biased information in order to keep themselves in a state of political power and of monetary growth, consequently controlling public agenda and thus retaining the true power in society: the power of influence. The power of influence... "Don't let anyone tell you who you are" I was told by my mother. However, society tells me to tell everyone. They tell me to expose myself, all my actions, all my beliefs, that they may adjust it to fit a puzzle that they see What does the finished puzzle look like?

The lights in the plane puzzled me. They all flickered progressively towards the exit. I stood up and followed the string of lights as they danced around me, embracing me in their power. They were about the width of a centimeter and the length of an inch, separated by a foot of black, empty-looking carpet between each. I walked forward being careful not to knock over anyone from their sleeping position. Damian and Connor had since fallen asleep. I looked around. The only person awake besides myself was a boy who sat near a window towards the back of the plane. He observed me carefully. He had what I assumed was jet-black hair and a reddish face by the purple light bouncing off of his shiny forehead. He seemed afraid but not out of control, like he had been in a similar situation. His age was at least nineteen, a little older than the rest of us it seemed. His eyes darted back in forth from me to the lights, from me, the lights, me, lights, me, lights, me. He stopped looking that much more at me and instead focused himself on his necklace, a little silver rectangular prism which I supposed had something written on it, but I wouldn't find out then. I turned back around and refocused myself on the lights. They flickered each about one second on, one second off.

One of the lights however did not follow my proven trend. It waited another second every time before shutting off and yet another second before turning back on. I inspected it, finding out it had no unusual characteristics. The calm cool glow radiated onto my body, examining every part of my body before running away from my backside. It's lack of vibrancy allowed for an easy snooze to occur, which seemed evident through all the quiet breathing in and out on the plane. I looked a little closer and found that it had a very faint reflection on it, something uncommon among the other lights. I pressed my finger on the light to feel it. A quiet click on the light switched it from purple to white. It was now flashing at the same speed as the other lights but only in a different color. I stood up and turned to see the boy in the corner looking me dead straight in the eyes, only three feet away from me.

He said nothing. He didn't seem like the type to talk. Didn't look like the type to do anything at all really. He had probably seen that light and didn't want to touch it himself out of fear.

He watched me intensely.

"You gonna say anything?" I asked.

A slight shake of the head.

"Alright then…" I began to look around for any changes or levers or anything. After a few seconds I hear a whirring come from the back of the plane. Something was moving. The wall was moving actually. It was sliding upwards to reveal a glass mirror. I quickly walked over as people began waking up and looking over from the noise.

"What is it?" someone asked.

"A mirror, I think," I responded.

"Not a mirror," said Connor, who had come up behind me. I turned to face him, standing there awake as could be.

"It's a window." And as he said that, he ran straight into the mirror as fast as he could, shattering the glass.

And the light poured in…