The Infinity Mirror

The train to New York city rumbled along the track from New Jersey. Passengers peacefully sat in their benches, each in a world of their own. I tucked in my skirt as a lady came over to sit by me. We never looked into each other’s eyes. No one did. It had been one year since that horrible day. It was all over the news, the first anniversary of 9/11. Everyone on this train had been impacted in some way. Maybe it was a friend. Maybe a lover. Maybe you knew someone who had lost someone. But the damage was real. We weren't as invincible as we thought. Our weakness was exposed to us in such a shocking way, we could never fully move on. No, never as before at least. We were all changed. Nothing would ever be the same.

For me, it was my parents and little brother. Who would have thought that such a disaster would rob the lives of so many innocent people – as a theif in the night? The bustling and hustling of people out the doors of the train was like a dream. None of it really mattered. It was just the flow of life. The true meaning and purpose of life had already been lost on that horrid day. What was there left to look forward to? Would I ever see their smiles again? The clouds above looked greyer than usual, a testament that even nature knew what we were feeling – as if there was a shared energy bouncing back an forth between humanity an nature. I could almost see them in the clouds, their images, looking down on me.

I stared at them for as long as I could before bumbling up the stairs and arriving at the New York School of Art. Art was the only thing that kept me going. It was the only thing that seemed to give me an outlet for how I felt. None of it could be put into words. It was a darkness. A loss of hope. It was helplessness and fear. It was sorrow. It was hate. It was anger at the audacity of man to dream up destructive ways to rob what is most precious in this world. Their future! Their hopes and dreams! Their love. The light in their eyes. You stole it. You stole it from each and every one with your pathological ambitions. Oh yes, the vain ambitions of mankind when they find an ideal that corrupts them. The things that they will do for that ideal... abominable! And to what end? To their fantastical ever after? And what could be done about a religion that idolizes destruction? Just thinking about it gets my blood boiling. With hands clenched ever so tightly around the door handle, I made my way in.

“Welcome to class everyone. Today we will be discussing the artistic style of Yayoi Kusama. She specializes in artwork involving mirrors.” The words were landing on my ears like the planes that crashed on 9/11. My eyes stared blankly into the mirrors behind the lecturer. “The infinity mirror utilizes parallel mirrors to create the illusion of an infinite amount of space.” My gaze was lost in layer after layer of this classroom dissolving into the distance. “It’s almost as if time and space become irrelevant and you become a part of a multiverse of instances of you.” Since when has time and space been irrelevant? It was because they were in the wrong place and the wrong time that they died! They didn't deserve that. It was purely bad luck. Or a bad joke being played on them by the universe. Perhaps the universe was bored and decided to shake things up. Oh? You thought you would live to see your grandchildren? You thought you would live to graduate junior high and find a girlfriend? Let’s see what we can do about that. It was horrible. There is nothing that can justify what happened to them. And yet, time moves on. They can't come back. Their progress through time was stopped while mine was allowed to continue further, and further, into infinity...

It was too much for me. I jumped out of my seat and hustled for the door as the class stared in shock at my abrupt exit. I should have been there with them. Maybe it would have turned out differently. I was so selfish. They wanted me to come with them for a vacation. But I refused them. I was too busy I told myself. I was in school. I had things going on. The cute guy in class was hoping to see me. But those were all excuses. Now, realizing that I will never have a vacation with them ever again, I would give anything to have that experience with them.

I bustled into my bedroom like a tempest and landed on my bed in a storm of tears and sorrowful rage. I pounded on my bed with all strength I could muster as I hid my head under my pillow to muffle the screams. WHY!! WHY DID YOU TAKE THEM FROM ME. I CAN’T GO ON WITHOUT THEM. The pain of imagining their smiling faces was torture to my mind. It was a reminder of what was wrong with the universe. It was a reminder of what should have been but is no more.

After a bout of wrestling with the universe, I made my way to the bathroom to wash up my face, which was, no doubt, a horrifying wreck of mascara bleeding over an earthquake of makeup. The house was so cold and empty without their voices, footsteps, and smells. There was no whiff of the aftermath of a family breakfast. There were no jokes nor laughter. Just eternal deafening silence that robs the brain of its sanity. As I looked in the mirror to clean myself, I noticed something I rarely notice. A double mirror. All along, my house had contained an infinity mirror. My miserable face was copied onto each layer of the shrinking image, almost as if mocking me. Yet, something about it was intriguing. It was as if there really was a deeper reality hidden in the images. I looked harder through squinted eyes to try to understand the meaning. Memories of my past filled my mind. Over time, this bathroom had been used by all my loved ones. Their images slowly began to dance on the different layers of the infinity mirror. I wanted to reach out to them. To hold them one last time. To be there for them. I would give anything for that. Even my life.

As I reached out my salty tear-ridden hand, to touch them, my hand phased through the mirror like a ghost through a wall. I could see my hand on the other side of the mirror as it entered another layer of depth. I pulled my hand back in shock, wiggling it from side to side in front of me to make sure that it was still intact. What the hell did they put in my coffee? My younger brother was still playing hide and seek with me on the third layer deep. He poked his head out from behind the entrance and said, “Come get me!” His smile warmed my heart. I placed my hand back on top of the mirror and slowly phased it in one layer, and then another, and then another until I could poke my brother and he ran off with a squeal. I pulled out my hand, still in shock by this entirely abnormal experience. But back in the real world, I was faced with the infinite silence that felt like an eternal dagger in my heart. Yet here, with the mirror, there was a way for me to escape that silence. I closed my eyes and dove in.

It was almost magnetic. It sucked me in and then accelerated me. Layer after layer flashed before by my eyes as I descended through time. Flashbacks of memories flooded my mind in reverse order as images of my family moving about zig-zagged all around me at lightspeed. I could still hear my brother say, “Come get me!”. I followed that voice in my descent and eventually landed on a hardened layer of the sequence of mirrors. The descent abruptly stopped, and I felt like a ton of bricks that had been dropped off a truck. “Come get me!” echoed again. I was here. I was back. I was with my family. It was as if the universe was giving me a second chance. “I'm gonna get you Jayden!!” I said with a smile and began my chase.

BEEP....BEEP....BEEP. My alarm woke me up from a terrible night of sleep. I felt like so much had happened in my dreams, but it was fading away with each second. There was something important to remember. But I didn't have time to be bothered with such things. I needed to get ready for school. “Honey! Breakfast is ready!” My mother called out. “Coming Mom!” I said. It felt like home. For some reason, I felt like I should be grateful for this. “Now honey, we're planning a vacation to California in September. Are you going to be able to join us with your school schedule?” Mom said while I munched down on some French toast gleefully. My mind began thinking about my syllabus and all the group projects that needed to be started. And then my mind wandered to Mark, the boy I was interested in. But for some reason, something in the back of my mind was reminding me to focus on what was most important. Family. “Sure Mom. I think I can manage it.” I said with a smile. “Ok, dad has a important meeting with a client on Monday, so we will be booking a flight on Tuesday 9/11 and return on Sunday.” 9/11. That date. It echoed through my subconscious. I don't know why, but I just knew there was something bad about 9/11.

By the time 9/11 came around, I was all packed and ready to go. But something in the back of my mind said I needed to take extra precautions. Something terrible is going to happen today. I began brainstorming all the possible ways today could go badly. What if a criminal is on the plane? What if he tries to hurt us? I looked around my room for things that might be helpful in case shit hit the fan. I decided to wear a belt around my dress. High heels are good too. I put a blanket, hair pins, bands, and a brush in my carry on. “Jayden! Did you pack your toothbrush?” Mom called out. “Yes Mom!” He replied. We bustled out the door and into the car. The flight was scheduled for departure at 8am. We rushed to the Newark Airport and weaved our way through the lines. I had a lingering sense of foreboding. A voice in my subconscious was still calling out to me. Danger. As I looked around, I noticed four middle easterners in line. I didn't know much about middle easterners, but I had a bad feeling about them. They noticed me staring at them and I quickly retreated my gaze in fear. My stomach dropped. What are they up to? I started imagining scenarios in my head. What if they have a gun? A bomb? Knives? What if they attack us? “Daddy, what will we do if something bad happens?” I whispered, glancing at the middle easterners. “Don't worry baby. I will protect you.” He said with a smile.

“Flight 93 boarding now.” a voice spoke over the microphone. This is it. For everyone else, this was just a normal boarding, but for me, each step was filled with existential dread. There were a lot of empty seats on the plane due to only having thirty-plus passengers on a Tuesday. I was uneasy the whole time, keeping my eye on the middle easterners. Each minute felt like forever, yet nothing seemed to be happening, until at one moment, all three of them stood up together. My heart sunk. This is it. With the look of death on their faces, they marched towards the cockpit. A female flight attendant was trying to resist them when she was stabbed viciously through the throat and dropped to the ground in silence. “Dad!!” I whispered in utmost shock. “What do we do?” A look of horror and dread was written all over my dad's face. He was paralyzed in fear. Come on dad! I need you to be brave. Two passengers jumped up to stop them, but they were stabbed in the heart and fell on the ground moaning softly as blood pooled around them. There was some pounding and shrieks of horror from within the cockpit.

“Ladies and gentlemen: here the captain. Please sit down, keep remaining seating. We have a bomb on board. So sit.” a foreign accent echoed through the plane. The middle easterners had taken down the pilot and the first officer. They now had control of the cockpit. “DAD!” I said in exasperation as three middle easterners began coming towards us. “We have a bomb on board. Get to the back of the plane or else.” They slowly marched towards the back of the plane, slashing their knives through the air viciously, as if daring anyone to come within range, whipping their knives in a threatening way towards anyone who was moving too slowly. Everyone was undoing their seatbelts and rushing to the back in fear. People were trying to hide the fact that they were making phone calls to their loved ones. But it seemed like the middle easterners were to too distracted to be bothered with such things. “What? There has already been an attack? A plane crashed into the World Trade center?” Now the passengers were panicking. “We're gonna... They're gonna kill us, you know, we’re gonna die.” One of the ladies on board kept saying.

We huddled in the back in discussion about what to do. “There are 15 of us men and four of them! We can take them!” I slipped off to the side and undid my belt. Then took off my high heels. Opened up my carry on. “Count me in.” I said with a sense of bravery that I didn't know I had within me. “Honey! You can't.” Dad said, “I'll do this dear.” But by the look on his face, I knew he was faking bravery. He was old and not in his prime. Chronic disease had shattered his confidence. My mother was a shivering wreck, crying her eyes out. She was covering Jayden's eyes in a warm embrace so he wouldn’t have to see the carnage of blood seeping towards the back of the plane. The men began to gather around and make a plan. “Okay let’s vote, should we do it?” One of them said. We mostly all raised our hands. “Are you guys ready? Okay. Let's roll!” another said with an uncanny level of optimism.

The men began began pushing the food cart at top speeds. They rammed the door to the cockpit as the fight broke out. The middle easterners stabbed a few of them in the chaos, but one man kicked the knife out of one of their hands and dropped him to the ground in a tackle. The other middle easterner retaliated with his knife and the bodies began to pile up as blood soaked the floor. More of the men were jumping into the fray. I secretly snuck out from among the other passengers and followed behind the men ready to assist. The middle eastern pilot left the controls and began assisting the terrorists. How can the plane fly without the pilot? I thought.

I hid behind the seats as the men onboard began to retreat as they couldn't fight on top of all the bodies that were piling up. I was peeking through the crack between two seats as I watched the pilot ominously walk forward, knife in hand. It was a kitchen knife, serrated at the edges. Large enough to go straight through me. My heart pounded so loud I thought it might give away my location. Fear gripped me as I began sweating profusely. I covered my mouth so he wouldn't hear by breath. “Allahu akbar!!” He said as he lurched forward towards the retreating men. This is my chance. I jumped forward from my hiding place and slammed the pointy edge of my high heels into the eye of the pilot. It slid through his eyeball making a crunching noise as he screamed in pain and lunged towards me with his knife. I turned around to get away but was backed into the wall of the plane and couldn't escape. He collapsed upon we with his knife as it slid through my back and into the upper cavity of my chest and out through my rip cage.

“Jessica!!!” My father yelled as he pried the terrorist off of me and beat him to a pulp with a strength he had never shown before. Blood poured out from my back and chest like a river. This life started to feel more and more like a dream as my mind was slipping away. I looked out the window of the plane as it descended out of the sky. Would we crash without a pilot? But then a miracle happened. The plane was re-stabilized and one of the men took over the microphone, saying “We have reclaimed the plane!” as everyone cheered. But it wouldn't matter for me. And I was okay with that. As long as the rest of my family made it out of this alive, I would be happy.

As I looked out the window, I noticed something. There was a reflection in the window. Not only a reflection of myself, but also a reflection of a window behind me, on the opposite side of the plane. It seemed almost as if there was a series of nested reflections vaguely imprinted on the window. An infinity mirror. Suddenly, the memories of my alternate life returned to me. I see. The universe had given me a second chance. I smiled knowing that I had been able to make a difference. I placed my bloody hand on the window as a symbol that I was ready to die. My mind started getting really fuzzy and blurry. “I love you guys!” I said to my family as things began going dark. Their voices were a blur. My vision was fading. The only thing I could focus on was the window and questioning why it seemed like my hand was going through it.