By Michael Conti
Spark’s reflection multiplied infinitely in the high-tech museum’s mirror maze. Each image wore the same chartreuse blazer and metallic pants he’d chosen specifically to stand out at the exhibition. Now he wished he’d worn something less conspicuous. Being the center of attention lost its appeal when Spark disappeared into the crowd of doppelgängers.
“Hello?” he said into the maze. His voice echoed back from every direction. He bit his thumbnail, a nervous habit he’d never conquered, and watched dozens of reflections do the same. The museum had closed hours ago, leaving him alone with his multiplying selves after he’d ducked the security guard and sneaked into the mirror room that wasn’t open to the public. He wanted to experience it—alone—to prove he could navigate the maze.
In retrospect, perhaps not his brightest moment, he noted. Perhaps there was a reason the maze hadn’t opened.
Movement caught his eye. One reflection wearing blue instead of chartreuse. Spark froze with eye contact. The blue-clad version waved, smirking. “Took you long enough to notice,” it said. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for ten minutes.”
“Who… I mean, what are you?”
“I’m you, obviously. Just… another you. There are thousands of us trapped in here. The mirrors aren’t mirrors at all—they’re portals. Some genius interdimensional architect created this nexus connecting parallel universes.”
Cyan-Spark explained its inventor intended the maze to communicate with other dimensions.
“It was a portal for conversation,” Cyan-Spark said, “and for learning. But because we’re reflections of each other, there can be no escape because you’ll just walk into yourself and push your reflection back into their own dimension.”
Blue-Spark agreed, “Yeah, that’s the problem. We can see each other, but we can’t cross over. We’re all stuck in our own dimensions.”
“There has to be a way out,” Spark insisted, examining the frame. “I mean, I got in here. And if there’s an entrance, there’s an exit.”
“We all got in here,” came another voice. “And we are all still in here.”
Another Spark, this one wearing a business suit, appeared in an adjacent mirror. “Different dimensions, same stupid idea. ‘I bet I can solve this maze.’ Spoiler alert: none of us could.”
More versions emerged in other mirrors. One in punk rock attire, another in medieval garb, even one in what appeared to be a spacesuit. Spark listened to each reflection as they explained how they had entered the maze on a dare or for a repair order; each had failed and were now trapped. As versions jumped in with their stories, Spark learned that a few reflections had been there for weeks up to a month. Others, only a day or two.
“What’s the solution?” Spark asked, trying to ignore how his nail-biting habit was displayed in surround sound. Or was it surround sight?
“We’ve been working on that,” Punk-Spark said. “Look, when we all move in sync, something happens. Show him!”
The reflections took a step in perfect unison. The mirrors vibrated slightly, emitting a low hum.
“We think if we can get everyone moving together, we might generate enough energy to break the glass,” Business-Spark explained.
Spark pondered possible reasons but gave up. “Why would that work?”
“Because if the mirrors are broken, so are the reflections. Then we aren’t our own obstacles anymore.”
Spark grinned. “A metaphysical flash mob? I’m game!”
They coordinated their movements, dozens of Sparks marching, jumping, and dancing in perfect synchronization. Hundreds now, and the humming grew louder, the mirrors vibrating more intensely. Wobbling images made it a little more difficult to stay synchronized, but the humming crescendoed as all the Sparks continued dancing. Just as the sound peaked, everything went black and Spark’s eardrums screamed in a high-pitched squeal.
Light returned to Spark’s opened eyes, and he found himself sprawled on the museum floor, a security guard standing over him. “Sir? Are you all right? We found you passed out in the maze when it collapsed.”
Sitting up, Spark noticed he was wearing a rose blazer instead of the chartreuse.
“How in the world did you even get in here? It could have been so much worse!” the guard said with a shaken voice. “Let’s go outside before you get hurt.”
As they walked away from the shimmering glass shards, Spark wondered which dimension he’d ended up in. Maybe the point was to never know, though. Perhaps perception determined reality, and, with effort, Sparks could rewrite it through self-awareness as much as self-deception. Every reflection from every universe was different—and they were all created by their pasts, just like he was.
“That was an expensive exhibition,” the guard said to the back of Spark’s head as they walked. “You ruined it for everyone.”
He glanced at his reflection in the museum’s windows as they exited. This time, it matched perfectly, thank goodness. He could look forward now. Not to what could have been, but to what can be.
The security guard looked at him with a side eye glance. “Sir, why are you staring at yourself?”
“It’s just funny how haunting it can be to reflect on the choices you made that led you to where you are,” Spark said. “You know, learning from mistakes and all that.”
The guard nodded slowly, clearly unconvinced of Spark’s sanity. “Yeah, well where you are is out of the museum. Which is where you need to stay from now on. Let’s go ahead and get your information for our insurance company and the police. Those mirrors weren’t free.”
“Life lessons aren’t, either,” Spark noted. He noticed he didn’t feel the urge to bite his nails. But he’d suddenly developed an overwhelming craving for pickles.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
It may seem unrealistic that the Sparks had discovered coordinated dancing could break them free from the trap. I mean, “Hey everybody, maybe we could try dancing to get out” does seem like an odd suggestion, given the circumstances. But just remember, across the vastness multiverse, there must be at least one musical theatre nerd Spark who thinks dancing can solve every problem.
Love the dimensional interacting! That last line is hilarious 😂
Loved, “Yeah, well where you are is out of the museum. Which is where you need to stay from now on.” LOL
Oh!! I really like this – it’s a clever story and a great take on Spark. Love his being cured of the time travelling, the biting of his nails, and — mostly! — his disgust of pickles. Terrific!