Partial Reflections

And as I look up, I see mirrors, thousands of indistinguishable rectangular pieces that form the walls, the floor, and the ceiling up above. Thousands of mirrors form millions of reflections. Every single me, slightly different than any other me.

At a length I recognize a white door, I try to count, four, no eight, no twelve mirrors in fact are replaced by a white panel with a crystal knob on it, confirming that it is, indeed a door. I’m not sure if there’s a ground beneath the glass floor, or if it will break by the pressure when I walk. I ask myself whether running through will help leave the shattering glass behind, or should I walk, careful, diligent slowing down at some steps and pacing on others.

Anyhow, I decide to walk. Funny thing! Only a few of my reflections are following me, I gaze at them all one by one, right in the eye. It doesn’t take me much longer to figure out that as I accelerate, more of me start to follow. I wonder if there is a scientific explanation to the phenomenon, but end up even more bewildered. The floor seems to be stable enough so I speed up further, but I see no more additions to the legion.

I reach the door. I try to push the door open, rotate the knob otherwise, and again try to push. I hear a mocking giggle in the background. One of my ‘non-followers’? What the hell! I think. I try to pull the door this time. It opens and I can figure out the laugh.

Soon the reflections that had been following me, start to frown, some show a hint of anger, some of disappointment, and some of pure despair. They don’t say anything. I convince myself into thinking that they can’t.

There it was. Another room of mirrors and mirrors and mirrors all over again. And another door, again forced me to wonder, sixteen, no twelve again! This one was closer, maybe that’s why the door appeared bigger in the scenery.

I understand, or at least I try to. I pretend to feel for them for I have to leave, never to see them again, for I don’t believe in “looking back”. Reassured, I run towards this next door. A smaller room beholds but still millions of new reflections. Once again not everyone follows. It takes me less time to get through and even lesser to figure out that what is there on the other side of the room. I knew I had to pull the door this time. I choose to ignore the frowned, angry, disappointed, and despaired faces. And so I did. To my surprise, I wasn’t wrong. Another room full of mirrors, still smaller.

I go through hundreds other such doors. Somewhere in the middle hence I get stuck, my followers however pass me by up to the end. I look down. I wonder if the mirror under me has melt down, or I thought the reflection underneath has held me. It’s neither.

I was holding me. The part of me whose reflections were never moving, walking or running with me, was holding me. He steps out of me, stands in front of me. He looks me back in the eye, and then at his, our reflections, billions of them now. He starts walking the other way, running the other way.

Now I stand here. This room of mirrors, rooms rather. All of them having two doors, entry and exit as I recall, they’re called. Now I stand here. My imprecise intellect starts to see, realize, and appreciate. A smile on my face tries to betray the sense of regret in my eyes. Now I stand here.  “The door was in fact meant to be pushed. The entry was the exit, and the exit, the entry. For when I looked up, I just looked up, for I don’t “look back”. There must have been a way out, a door behind me in the first place.”

Now I stand here. I decide, choose, under my own influence to turn back, to retrace my steps exactly the opposite way. I’ll run first, and walk later. Maybe the floor will crack this time, given the opposite pressure and fatigue from the previous time. Maybe the “first” door will lead me to another, larger room. Maybe I’ll get frustrated of the increasing size of rooms, and my decreasing speed. And maybe after traveling through another hundreds of rooms I’ll decide again at some point to head “back”. Maybe I’ll be back at this same point some time in the future. But I have to take this chance, I want to, for I have nothing to lose.

The new reflections, just formed, have started frowning. I choose to meet their tranquility with chaos, and their interest with apathy. And so, on this day I begin, again.