Objects in mirror are closer than they appear. Or so the notice on my scooter’s mirrors claimed. But when I looked the damned things weren’t reflecting anything. Zilch. Nicht. Nada. Not even the sky or my nose. I rubbed my fingers on each of them and the contact told me they weren’t broken. But my hands weren’t showing. In place of any sort of reflection, all I could see was some sort of static noise, or as if pixels might have gone lost or, rather, confused. Yet my scooter only had ordinary mirrors, not plasma screens. I was still touching them when it hit me: They were showing the end of the world. It had crept on me and I had not noticed.

When I turned around on my seat to face it, it was already too late.


Nathalie Boisard-Beudin  Nathalie Boisard-Beudin's website is a middle aged French woman living in Rome, Italy. She has more hobbies than spare time, alas—reading, cooking, writing, painting and photography—so hopes that her technical colleagues at the European Space Agency will soon come up with a solution to that problem by stretching the fabric of time. Either that or send her up to write about the travels and trials of the International Space Station, the way this was done for the exploratory missions of old. Clearly the woman is a dreamer.

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