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Mirror Mirror

"What's happening to me?" Max whispered to his reflection in the mirror. He was unsteady and placed his arms out for support. He had a sense of vertigo, as if he was becoming two-dimensional instead of three.

"Your true path is beginning to emerge," his reflection said back at him.

Max looked up in the mirror. He wondered if he had said that. Maybe he was going crazy, after all. He was covered in sweat and was leaning forward on the sink. He reached up and touched the cool reflected surface. Was he having a momentary lapse of pure unreasoning, his mind wandering, fading in and out like realities on the edge of a match.

"You're not going crazy," his reflection assured him. "You were a volunteer of Project 52. There's something going on, but you are unsure what it is."

He studied himself in the mirror. But he wasn't quite sure if it was him staring back. He could see the image, but it would change in a glimpse. At one moment he saw an actor starring back at him, as if his life was being portrayed as a serial drama, being watched or read by some unseen forces.

"It's much more than that," his reflection told him. "Your journey is being documented in little fragments so that others can see what your paths have led you to."