Surculus

Missing Reflection

​My room is my world. The only time I leave it is for food or other activities forced upon me by my parents, but even then, I am still inside the house. Although I spend most of my life inside this room, it would not appear as the most entertaining area.
​I have one desk up against the wall to the right of the door. The desk has a basic lamp set in the top-right corner, with a two-by-two inch cylinder pencil holder. In the container there are two pens and a mechanical pencil, with about two sticks of lead. I always keep a fresh supply of paper, as I enjoy drawing and writing in the time I have.
​Even though I enjoy writing, I do not enjoy reading the books in circulation these days. Every now and then I may find a book made in the early twenty-first century, and end up reading it in a day. Those books have something the novels today do not have, though; I cannot pick that detail out. I know there is something, but however long and hard I scrape the dark corners of my subconscious, I am never victorious.
​While I am on the subject of books, I must say, there are some extremely interesting books that have been created post-Surculus. Well, it isn't that the books themselves are interesting, but the different content it and the book's alternate hold. You see, since everyone has their copy doing similar things in the other Earth, if they create a form of media, there are subtle or extreme differences between the two. It just goes to show how far we have come, as much as I hate to admit it.
​On the other side of the room, my bed lays stretched across the far end, leaving only enough space for my dresser. Other than the things I mentioned before, the only thing left in the room is my mirror.
​The mirror is special because of its rarity. Like I had hinted at, people trashed or sold their mirrors shortly after Surculus out of paranoia and embarrassment. I understand their reasoning, but they only did that because they acknowledged that their alternates were not themselves, but a different person. I am lucky to have an alternate still be exactly the same as I am.
​There have been an increasing number of cases over the years where people become romantically or sexually attracted to their alternates, leading to immoral acts of violence. Other times, however, these relationships have worked. There have also been cases where a person's alternate is the opposite sex then they, usually due to their alternate's parents having separate decisions than the other's. The only problem with things like these is that they have no future. A person cannot reproduce with someone bearing identical DNA without high risk of miscarriage or birth defects, much like incest.
​I do not like to think my alternate is anything more than my reflection. I think of him... er... it as the result of light bouncing of the surface of glass. That's how it should be, anyway. I'm sure, considering he is still doing the same things I do, my alternate feels the same way towards me. It's mutual.
​I lie down on my bed and close my eyes. There really isn't much to do in this room. I might as well sleep to pass the time, this worthless, extensive span of time people call life. With these thoughts floating around my mind, I drift off to sleep.
​Moist...
​Move your finger... ahh... ok, got it.
​Bright...
​Where are you right now? It is hard to open your eyelids...
​Wet...
​Maybe if you roll you could get out of this.
​... Thunk!
​Oh, that's right. I fell asleep. I should stop taking these naps during the day. Every time I do it, I wake up covered in sweat because of the summer heat radiating into the room.
​I get up; placing the comforter I pulled off when I rolled over the edge back onto the bed. The shirt has got to go, I am pretty sure it is adding fifty pounds in aquatic mass onto my fragile body. I toss my shirt into the corner of my room, and then turn on my fan and stand there under it for a good five minutes.
​Enough of that, I need some water. Languidly, I drag myself over to my dresser to get a new, clean shirt. I pull out a neat, blue one with a cat on it, and then slip it on. Checking to see if it looks fine, I glance over at the mirror.
​...The mirror...
​To my surprise, my alternate is not there. To other people, this kind of thing would be quite normal, but I am not "other people", I am Desparsus. Despa, that kid who never comes out of his house to interact with others. Despa, that kid who doesn't want anything to do with the world around him. Yeah, that's me.
​So, taking that into consideration, why the hell can't I see myself in the mirror? Was there a time someone said something to me? My mother? No, although she does play a big role in my life, I doubt anything she could do to me would cause me to change how I live. Have I gone outside recently? No, I don't think that is the case either.
​What happened?!