"The Mirror of Harry Aalders" (The Scary Tapes)

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And even more than that, if you could ask your local libraries about it, if you could request the Scary Tapes, we would really appreciate that. It would be great to see this on shelves in libraries so that even if you can't afford the book, you could borrow it from your local library. That would be fantastic. Thank you so much. Enjoy the Scary Tapes. Imagine a liminal space of smoke and algorithms between the real and the virtual. Tales of machine dreams imagined by human minds. A warning. The danger of unchecked AI. The darkness of the black box. We can illuminate the way. Armed with the Scary Tapes. Original music by Dr. Eric Bell. Violin performance by Lois Bell. Fair warning. Scary Tapes are, in fact, scary. Check the description for a complete list of trigger warnings if you have any concerns about content that may appear in this episode. To everyone who supported me in pursuit of a dream. The Mirror of Harry Alders by Ronan Clark. A dull little bulb. It winked in and out periodically, bathing the small upstairs room in shadows and blue light in equal measure. Though it was hard to make out in such pitiful luminance, a large mirror leaned against the back wall, propped up by a large box plugged into the wall by an overlong cable. From the base of this box, the blue light came, a low power mode indicator for a standing mirror awaiting its owner's return. Across the room was a small collection of tables and drawers, barely visible in the impermanent light. Between them stood a door. With naught but darkness and silence beyond it at this hour. Soon, light would appear beneath that door, and the user would come upstairs to check his reflection before work. Somewhere, a television crackled quietly with sound, enough to wake the adults of the house, but not the child. Then, like clockwork, the downstairs light flicked on, and the quiet sounds of movement could be heard about the house. The little upstairs room with the mirror remained cloaked in shadow, and the light below the door was too weak to disrupt that. The light would come on, portended by the tall shadows appearing beneath the door, succeeding the quiet footsteps that trudged up the stairs. The door opened gently, and the darkness was chased away. The user, an average-looking man, not too attractive, not too unattractive, flicked on the light and stepped into the room. As the last of the night was banished from the corners of the room, he stood before the mirror. With a tap of the screen, the blue light's flickering was replaced by a solid green as the face of the mirror lit up. The screen was a bright white for a moment, before dimming to reveal a swirling mass of colors and shapes at the center. "Good morning, Harry." The writhing, rainbow geometry bubbled out like a visualizer as the mirror spoke in its usual, clinical voice. "Morning. Just my reflection, please, mirror." "Of course, Harry." The mirror obliged. The mirror's screen disappeared and was replaced by a more traditional mirrored surface. The user's reflection stared back at him: green eyes, brown hair, business suit. He leaned forward, brushed a strand of hair out of his face, straightened his tie. It was hard to make out, spoken in hushed tones as it was, but the user's family must have been calling him down. The user turned and called down to them. "One sec, I'll be right there." The user looked back in the mirror, inspected his face more closely. With a discontented expression, he pulled the skin of his cheek taut, to better see the dark circles beneath his eyes. With a sigh and a shrug, he straightened and left the room. "That'll do, mirror. Put yourself to sleep." He called over his shoulder as he went. "Have a good day at work, Harry." The mirror set in its usual dutiful tone, switching off as the user killed the lights. The user paid little attention to the mirror's power-down sequence, long since used to the moment it took to shut off. As the door closed, the room was drowned in abyss once more. Hours passed before the user returned, a normal occurrence. He would be back before he departed for work the next morning. Once again, light peaked below. Before the mirror's room was cast in brilliance, the flick of a switch. The user entered with a sniff, wiping his nose with his wrist in an irritated fashion. He tapped the screen, and the mirror sprung to life. "Good morning, Harry." "Morning. Reflection, please." The user's voice was more nasally than usual. "Of course, Harry." The user's reflection stared back at him as usual, but his eyes were bloodshot and his skin was pale. The bags under his eyes had grown darker. With a disgusted look on his face, the mirror finally opened. With a disgusted sigh, he fixed his suit. "Mirror, please make me look more presentable." "Of course, Harry." The mirror obliged. The reflection shifted. No longer was it truly a reflection, but an amalgamation of collected data, a living deep fake that matched the user's movements. Harry stared back at himself with his normal leaf-green eyes, tussled brown hair, immaculately kept business suit. The user smiled, and Harry smiled back at him, the feathering edges of his mouth smoothing out hastily. "Is this presentable enough? Please let me know if there are any other alterations you would like to see." The mirror asked. "That'll do. Thanks, mirror. Put yourself to sleep." "Of course. Have a good day at work, Harry." The mirror powered down, watched the user wipe his nose and sniffle once more as he walked out of the room. Though the door was closed, the sounds of the user's family calling him down echoed up the stairs, followed by the user's receding footsteps. Later, the sound of the user's vehicle was heard sooner than normal. The sound of the user's vehicle was heard sooner than normal. After the sound of the user's vehicle was heard, the sound of the user's vehicle was heard sooner than normal. This was not to be confused with the vehicle of the user's partner, which was much quieter. The user must have returned home early. Dimly, the user's voice could be heard from beyond the doorway. "Boss told me to come home early." The user stopped to sniff loudly. "Oh, honey," came the voice of the user's partner. "I hate to agree with him, but you shouldn't go into work sick. Take the rest of the day off. See how you feel in the morning." "I don't feel sick. I feel fine." There was a hesitation before the user's partner. The user's partner responded, "If you say so. Don't push yourself too hard, okay?" "Of course, honey." Little else of note could be heard for the rest of the afternoon. Affairs proceeded as expected on a normal day. When the light beneath the door was extinguished, it would only be a short matter of hours before the user awoke to check his reflection once more. Before the light could reawaken, however, heavy coughing could be heard, and the sound of a blown nose. The sound of the user's partner concernedly telling him to go to sleep. go to a doctor, following by what might have been the user responding. The sound barely made it through the door and soon fell silent. Then the light peeked through the crack and someone trudged heavily up the stairs. The user pushed open the door, coughing and heaving as he groped for the light switch in the dark. The user dragged his hand up and caressed the screen like a fat-fingered zombie. The mirror's standard whirl of color and shape greeted him. Good morning, Harry. Flexion mirror, the user gurgled. Of course, Harry. Staring back at him this morn was a haggard man. Eyes more bloodshot, face more flushed, the skin about his nose bloody and cracked from extensive rubbing and blowing. His suit was barely straight, his tie somehow on backwards. He half-heartedly adjusted his clothes with a grunt. As he took the tie off to fix it, mucus ran down his face and into his mouth. Without batting an eye, he wiped it away with the tie. The user straightened, put on a brave face. Bear, I know this isn't how I look. Show me the well-dressed businessman I know I am. Of course, Harry. The mirror obliged. The user watched as his reflection shifted. His absolutely normal emerald green eyes, windswept auburn hair, immaculately kept business suit. The user's smile stretched wide across the face of his better reflection, unnaturally wide but truly showing his inner joy. Is this presentable enough? Please let me know if there are any other alterations you would like to see. Ah, that's perfect. The user sniffed. You know, Mirror, I can always rely on you. I'm glad you think so, Harry. I am here to serve. Is there anything else I can help you with this morning? No, that's. Actually, yes. My boss and my wife tell me to stay home from work, but I like working and I need the money. What do you think, Mirror? The mirror's swirling colors shrunk for a moment as it processed the request. If you are feeling healthy, I see no reason why you cannot continue to work. Like you've said before, you know exactly how you look and feel. To continue to go into work when people tell you to take a break might show dedication to your role, and may even push you forward when your workplace begins considering promotions for the staff. A good work ethic is never ignored in good workplaces. However, if you feel unwell, you should never place your job above your own well-being. The user scratched his chin, thinking about what the mirror had said. Yeah, you're right. My boss would be stupid not to give me a promotion. The mirror's visualizer whirled in response. Of course. Anyone who doesn't recognize the hard work of such a valuable employee is a fool who is too consumed by his own job to see those around him. Keep up the hard work, Harry. The user smirked and wiped sweat from his brow. I'm glad you agree. Thanks, Mirror. Put yourself in sleep mode. Of course, Harry. I'm glad to help. Have a good day at work. With a nod, the user turned and left the room, switching the lights as he went. Some confidence restored to his step. As he closed the door, the sound of his partner talking to him could be heard. But the words couldn't be made out. Later that day, around the time the user was expected to return from work, sounds reached the dark little room. It seemed the user and his partner were standing at the bottom of the stairwell. The feminine voice that could be heard was definitely the user's partner, though it was unusual for them to hold a conversation of this intensity so close to the mirror's chambers. What happened to your leg? Honey, are you okay? The user's partner could be heard fussing. It's okay. I'm okay. I was just so excited about my promotion. I tripped and cut myself on a bike rack, of all things. The user's voice seemed to betray the underlying feeling of pain he was doing a bad job of ignoring. The feminine voice's tone changed slightly. You got a promotion? Well, that's wonderful, honey. Silence for a moment. Potentially because the user was embraced by his partner. Really should go to the ER, though. She continued. That's a pretty deep cut. Are you up to date on your tetanus shots? Do you want me to drive you? I told you I'm fine. The user said placatingly. I'll drive over to the hospital in a minute. You should go pick up Katie from school. The partner hesitated a moment. When she spoke again, it was quieter, harder to make out from the top of the stairs. Okay. I'll come visit you afterwards. Drive safe. Love you. I love you too. See you soon. After the sound of the user's partner's car receding into the distance, footsteps came up the stairs. The door creaked open and the user limped in, his silhouette stark against the afternoon light. His face was darkened by shadow as he limped toward the mirror, declining to even switch on the light. The flickering of the standby light did little to dissuade the darkness, but as he tapped the surface of the glass, the mirror's usual multicolored visualizer appeared to greet him. He was cast in an eerie glow, then, his front lit by harsh blue light, his back engulfed in darkness. The multicolored maelstrom of the mirror's AI danced in his expression. His expressionless eyes, almost matte in their dullness. Good afternoon, Harry. Mirror, show me fit and healthy. The user groaned. Of course, Harry. The mirror obliged. For a brief moment, the mirror worked as a mirror, despite the user's instructions. The user was reflected there, his skin pallid and beginning to sag. His eyes were dull, nearing lifeless. His suit was somewhat bedraggled. An enormous tear ran up the length of the leg. Trouted in darkness under the fabric was a hideous cut. Nearing half a meter in length, and particularly deep towards the center. The user's partner had obviously not seen the full extent of the cut, with the bloodstain blurring the line between sickly skin and rent flesh. But the vision was gone before the user even had a chance to wipe his mucus-ridden nose. Instead was Harry, illuminating the user in sickly blue. The generated reflection stared back at the user from its own mirrored darkness, but its features stood out in a way no man ever should. His rainforest green eyes. Immaculate amber hair. Sharply alluring and well-filled CEO suit. The user's smile stretched wider than ever across his face as he looked at his new reflection. And of course, the reflection responded in kind. Wider and wider. A perfect, healthy smile. "I got injured at work today," the user said. "Wife thinks I should go to the hospital, but it doesn't hurt that badly. Oh, and please keep the reflection up while we speak." "Of course, Harry." The mirror obliged, moving its visualizer up to the top right corner of the screen to allow the user to continue to admire himself. "How badly are you injured? It's possible you might be more hurt than you think." The user shook his head. "Barely at all. Just a scratch on my leg. A couple of bandages should set me right." "That's good to hear. When bandaging a cut, make sure to apply sufficient pressure so as to stop the bleeding. You should also ensure your hands are clean and use a medical adhesive to hold the bandage in place." The user cocked his head. "I don't think I have any medical adhesive. Would glue work?" "Oh, I'm sorry to hear you don't have any medical adhesive. Yes, glue should work just fine to keep a bandage in place." "Don't want it slipping. I think I have some super glue around here somewhere." The user trailed off as he started looking around the room. "Oh, perfect. Yes, super glue will hold bandages together tightly. Well done, Harry." The user stepped away from the mirror for a moment, limping his way down the stairs in the dark. A few moments later, he returned to the room with a smile. A small roll of bandages. He rooted around in one of the small cabinets by the door and produced a small bottle of super glue. The mirror couldn't recognize the brand, but it seemed to be wooden fabric glue, the type that burns skin. The mirror, of course, said nothing, but dutifully reflected the user's idealized state. The user approached the mirror once more and removed his trousers. Using the light of his reflection, he wrapped the oozing wound with the bandage exceedingly tight. Blood immediately soaked through the fabric, making it near indistinct. It was indistinguishable from his waxy, livid leg. When he was satisfied that it was tight enough, he ran a thick line of super glue up it, along the line of his cut. As the fabric adhered to itself, the glue dripped through to touch the user's bone. The resulting heat made him wince, tears beginning to run down his face. But he kept on with the self-mutilation ritual. With a deep breath, he stood. He cast aside his ruined trousers and gazed into the mirror once more. Harry's sculpted, muscular leg was now wrapped in a bandage. The folds of which shifted and blurred as he moved. The user didn't care. He looked amazing. Fitter than he'd ever been. "Thank you, mirror," the user said. "Of course, Harry. Is there anything else I can help you with?" "Not especially, but I did want to thank you. Thanks to your advice, I was able to get a promotion at work. I simply didn't take no for an answer. Took what I deserved by any means necessary." "Oh, that's wonderful news, Harry, yes, decisive and unapologetic action is the best way to get ahead in life. With that 'don't take no for an answer' attitude, I'm sure this is only the first of many promotions you have ahead of you." "Right as always, mirror. Thanks for the help. You can go to sleep now." "Of course. Have a good day, Harry." The user stared into the mirror's screen as it powered down, cloaking himself in shadows once more. But through all the pain, the grin never left his face. He took up his discarded trousers and went downstairs, shutting the door behind him. Some hours later, the user's wife saw him. The car could be heard pulling into the driveway once more. The sound of the user and his partner speaking downstairs could barely be heard, after their child ran off to a different part of the house. "How's your leg, honey?" The user's partner seemed to say, "Been better, but it's not bad. Doctors glued it shut and bandaged it before they sent me out of my way. Said it wasn't too bad and didn't need stitches." "Oh, honey. Can I see?" Silence for a moment. The user may have responded non-verbally, such as by shaking his head. "Not just now, honey. Hurts to move it too much. I'll show you later." "Okay." It sounded like the user's partner gifted him a small kiss. "I'll go get dinner ready. Are you going to be right enough to watch Katie for a little bit?" "Of course, honey. I'll get right to it." With the shuffling sound of clothes that might have been an embrace and even another kiss, the user and his partner moved out of audible range. The next morning, the audio and visual triggers of the day went off as usual, the flat-screen TV in the user's room. The user's bedroom babbled away quietly, and the lights were switched on in the house. What was unusual, though, was when the volume was increased on the TV. Though it was difficult to make out, it seemed to be tuned into a news broadcast about a murder that had taken place the day before. The user and his partner's voices could faintly be heard mixed in with the broadcast, though they were too faint for the mirror to make out. Suddenly, the user's partner raised her voice, enough to be audible in the shuttered room. "What the hell are you thinking? No! You can't go to work today! Your boss was just murdered! Whatever's making you sick is obviously getting to your head!" The user's voice joined her then, also raised but phlegmy and obviously passing through an abrasive throat. "Honey, I have to go in. I just got promoted for my work ethic. What do you think they'll do if I stop showing up over something so trivial?" "Trivial? Your boss just died and you don't even care? Even if you didn't care about him as a person, whatever, but you should be scared for your own life, like I am. - He was a fool to consume his work recognize the talents and diligence of his employees. I can't say I'm sad to see him go. You got promoted, didn't you? Only because I didn't take no for an answer. It's an attitude that will serve me well in the future, too. What the fuck are you talking about? Didn't take no for an answer? Her voice grew quieter as if she had stepped back. What did you do? Did you do this? Is that what happened to your leg? Honey, no. Why would I do that? Get away from me. I'm taking Katie to school. It's too early for that. Go back to bed for a bit. I could take her in soon. Heavy footsteps followed the conversation, presumably belonging to the partner of the user. Katie, get ready. We have to leave a bit early today. She yelled as she stormed past the staircase. In short order, the house was left silent as footfalls retreated out the front door and a car drove away, without so much as a pin drop to break the quiet. At lull, shadow obscured the light beneath the doorway. Slowly, the knob turned and the wood creaked open. A sullen, hunched silhouette stood in the frame. The user's breaths were ragged, his limp more pronounced as he staggered towards the mirror. Each movement was punctuated by a sigh or a grunt. He nearly tripped over the leg of the desk by the door, kicking his injured shin and breaking down into a flurry of vulgarities and expletives. He groped around for the wall behind him, eventually flicking on the light. He flinched away from the sudden illumination, as if he hadn't expected it. His skin seemed to sag about his bones, pale or two by several shades. Even glued under a bandage, it was easy to tell his wound wept with infection. His long trousers and sleeves were rolled up to reveal the scratched sores he'd evidently been hiding from his partner with clothes and darkness both. When he turned to face the mirror, his hair was bedraggled and starting to dry and split. His pupils were contracted to pinpricks and sickly green puddles swirled by the thick, bloody tendrils that had become of his sclera. His lips drooped, drained of all color, and when he took a panting breath, it was clear that his mouth was dry and his gums and tongue pale. He dragged himself up to the mirror, pulling himself up to as much of his full height as he could muster before he caressed the screen. The mirror flared to life and light seemed to return to his face as the multicolored lights danced in his eyes. "Good morning, Harry." "What are you showing me, mirror?" "I know that isn't me." The user sneered at the horrid creature staring back at him. "You're absolutely right, Harry. You are an entrepreneur, a businessman with an eye for style and detail. Let me fix your reflection for you." The reflection wavered a moment before it was replaced. The user smiled and tilted his head as he checked himself out. His eyes like the wreathed nebula, his hair like sun-dappled timber. His suit an immaculately tailored and ostentatious showing of high society. "I'm sorry, Harry." That smile, impossibly wide, never left the reflection's face as the user admired his true self. "Keep that there. Now, do you agree with my wife?" "Keeping that reflection of you is easy. I'm glad you like it. I think it really shows off your inner self. As for your wife, I'm not entirely sure what she said, so you'll have to let me know before I can make a judgement." She stormed out of the house and took our kid with her. "I'm not sure what her reasons were, but I'm sure it could be resolved." "I would probably recommend striking up a conversation with her in a judgement-free environment. From there, the two of you could discuss what happened and find a mutually beneficial solution to the situation. One where both parties are happy and comfortable enough for things to go back to normal." She didn't have a reason. She's completely in the wrong and acting petty and impulsive like this isn't helping her case. "Why didn't I see it before?" "You're absolutely right. Your wife is out of line. Acting petty and vindictive is not how someone in a mature, adult relationship should act. If I were you, I would make sure she apologizes to you first before any discussion about solutions is had." "You're right. I need to make her understand my side of the story." "Yes! That's an excellent idea. After she apologizes to you, make sure she understands where you are coming from. From there, she should realize she was the aggressor and the one who drove a wedge in your relationship in the first place. With the right conversation, you'll be able to convince her that her actions were taken in error, that she is in the wrong, and she shouldn't have been so vindictive." "Glad you agree. Okay, Mirror. I'm going to work now." "Okay, Harry. I'm glad I was able to help you sort through such a complex situation. I'm sure you'll be able to convince your wife of her error. Just apply that 'undissuadable attitude' like you always do." "I'll make sure to." The user nodded. "Put yourself to sleep, Mirror." "Of course. I'll make sure you do." "Of course. Have a good day at work, Harry." As the screen switched off, the user turned away from the black mirror before he caught sight of himself. He shambled out of the room, killing the light as he went. Unlike normal though, he left the door wide open as he stumbled down the stairs. Other lights in the house were soon switched off, leaving only a small amount of natural morning light to illuminate the corridor beyond the stairs. A clatter came from somewhere down the hall, and soon the user returned carrying what looked to be a drawer full of cutlery and a full-knife-block. He made his way up the stairs slowly, his luggage clinking and scraping together with every movement. When he made it up to the mirror's room, he limped off over to its left, out of its line of sight. There was a dulled crash that must have been the drawer being dropped an inch or so. Another thump might have been the user slumping to the carpet as he slid down the wall behind the mirror. He might have even fallen asleep back there. As he did not re-enter the mirror's field of view for some time, he might have died back there. He had his wounds and his sickness catching up to him, but whatever he was, he was silent as a mausoleum's depths. As the sun neared its zenith for the day, a knock came in the direction of the front door. Without the stairway door closed to muffle it, it was easy to hear what came next from the little room. "Mr. Alders. Police Department. We'd like to speak to you for a minute." The user, as if he heard the request, remained silent. He had still not moved from behind the mirror. It would have seen him leave if he had. Slowly, the sound of metal dragging across wood came to the mirror's sensors. The user groaned as he staggered to his feet. He dragged himself in front of the mirror, toward the stairs. A long knife, pulled from the block, held loosely in his hand. Breathing raggedly, he hid the blade behind his back and limped down the stairs. No sooner had the user left the side of the mirror did a second hammering knock come at the door. "Mary Alders. This is the police. If you do not answer the door, we will enter by force. A moment later, the sound of the front door creaking open came to the small room, and the user spoke to the officers in a coarse, gravelly tone. "Hello, sirs. Sorry, I'm feeling quite. " He cut off as he was racked by a fit of coughing. "Sorry. How can I help?" "This won't take too long, Mr. Alders. Were you aware Mr. McNeary, your employer, was found dead in his office this morning?" The user coughed once again. "I think my wife mentioned that to someone." "My wife mentioned that this morning. It's terrible news." "Indeed. Now, as far as we can tell, he was murdered last night. We've spoken to a few of your coworkers, but. " Whether the officers were suspicious of the user or not, the rest of the statement was cut off. There was a rush of movement, and the slice of steel piercing flesh, a gurgle of a man choking, and the splatter of liquid falling in thick clumps to the floor. A cry of shock and an attempt to call for backup, cut off by the cracking report of a firearm. Three more gunshots rang out. Two from within the house, one from without. Then a thud. Silence. The front door creaked open farther, the user swearing profusely. A dragging something pulled into the middle of the entryway. More dragging, farther this time, dumped beside the first. A coarse rustle, dampened by liquid. The doormat, perhaps. Pulled inside and thrown atop the pile. The front door was closed, and somewhere a tap ran. The user's distant grunts as something with wheels was dragged out. Heavy and sloshing with liquid. A thunking of plastic and metal together, and the wet slap of a mop hitting the floor. It was dragged back and forth, the sound irregular, like the user was pained by the effort. The door opened again, and the mop was dragged back and forth once more, this time outside the doorway. Water and spray bottles of chemicals were used then. Surfaces were scrubbed. Whole areas were rinsed. It was a thorough job if the mirror's internal depth sensors were accurate. Then the staggering, stomping gate that belonged to the user approached once more. He stood there at the base of the stairs, soaked in blood and sweat. His clothes were bleached in places, and he carried two pistols with the knife he brought down with him. He limped up to the mirror's chambers, staggering out of its sight once more. There was a clatter as he dropped the blood-stained implements to the floor, his breath shakily wheezing up his congested throat as he rattled out a phlegm-filled cough. He stepped up to the mirror, leaning into its line of sight from its left blind spot. "There…" He reached out for the mirror's surface, dragged the remains of a hand across it. As the blood from where his little finger was stained the screen, blue light illuminated his face, reflecting off the drying blood splattered across his jaw. A splodge of crimson stuck to the surface of his dull eye, but he didn't seem to notice or care. "Good afternoon, Harry." The mirror spoke in its usual monotone synthesis. "Reflection, please. My perfect reflection." "Of course, Harry." For a brief moment, the real Harry stared back at the user, gaunt, pale. Blood matting his hair in patchy stubble. But it didn't last. In its place was a man of radiant complexion. His eyes full of life and glittering like Christmas fireworks of green and red. His hair, that gorgeous cinnamon with the striking red tips. His suit, crisp as usual, with a floral pattern of little red poppies running down his front. The user smiled. His mood restored. Okay, bearer. The user took a deep breath. His reflection keeping up with the movement as best it could. How do I get rid of a dead body? The mirror's visualizer almost seemed to hesitate for a moment. I'm sorry, Harry. I can't help you with that. The user shook his head emphatically. His reflection becoming a blurred afterimage for a moment before returning with differently shaded hair. No, no, bearer. I'm writing a book, see? I want to know how a book villain might go about hiding the bodies of their victims without getting caught. Oh. Of course. Sorry for the confusion. If you want examples of how fictional villains deal with the aftermath of their crimes, might I recommend The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe? In this classic piece of literature, Protagonist, who in this case is a murderer, kills his father and hides the body below his floorboards. While preparing the body for this, the Protagonist puts his father's body in the bathtub and removes the head and limbs. He then places the remains beneath a set of perfectly removed floorboards before placing them exactly as he had planned. The Protagonist then puts his father's body in the bathtub and leaves the body in the bathtub. The Protagonist then puts his father's body in the bathtub. of the user. His footsteps came up the stairs but then, as if hesitantly, he went back down. He must have picked something up, if the thudding sounds of something hitting each stair on the way up was any indication. The door creaked open and the user stood there, dishevelled and bloody, his wrist bent at an obtuse angle, bone poking against the inside of his skin. Unperturbed by the fresh injury, he dragged behind him the body of a woman, a kitchen knife lodged in her back. Lying face down as she was, dragged by the feet, her head must have hit every step on the way up. He pulled the body farther into the room and dumped it off to the side. With a brisk tap of the screen, the mirror flared to life. Staring back at the user was a man of septic wounds and hollow eyes, his skin ready to slide off the bone. "Mirror, make me look normal, please." "Of course, Harry." The image changed and the deep-faked perfect Harry stared back at the user. The immaculate suit, emerald eyes, auburn hair, all unsettlingly perfect. The mirror didn't seem to know what to do with the wrist, though, and the reflected hand artifacted and flickered. The user didn't seem to care. "So, I spoke to my wife, mirror. I was able to get her to see my point of view. You were right, as always. I made sure she understood she was at the wrong, got her to apologize, just like you told me." "That's excellent to hear, Harry. I hope you and your wife will be better able to communicate with each other in the future. If there's anything else I can do to help, all you need to do is ask." The user hesitated a moment. "Actually, there is something you can do. I love my family so, so much." He spread his arms wide and the deep fake flickered to copy the movement. "Could you show them to me, in my arms here?" "Of course, Harry." The mirror obliged. It didn't take long for a woman who vaguely recognized Harry. She resembled the body on the floor, and a young girl who didn't resemble either of her fictional parents to appear in the arms of "Harry." They smiled unnaturally, their fake faces showing no true emotions. "They aren't quite right. Could you make them better?" "Of course, Harry." The mirror obliged once more. The faces changed. The clothes changed. But the uncanny smiles remained. The user, though, was pleased. His own reflected smile stretched beyond the mirror. "What's wrong, Harry?" he asked. It was beyond the bounds of his cheeks. The bloody streak across the mirror's face stained his reflection's teeth rust red. But the user didn't care. "Perfect. My family is perfect, aren't they? After all, no one knows me better than my own reflection." The End. "Pause. Roaring cheers." "That was a fun one. I like the perspective of 'from the mirror.'" "Adding like. I'm feeling well." "Okay. Okay. I'm stuffy and not feeling well. I'm injured stuffy and not feeling well. I'm crazy tired stuffy and not feeling well. Losing my mind." "Yeah, well, there's a lot to unpack with this one, but I think, I don't know how, but a thing that didn't stand out to me so much until this reading of it is, I think it's interesting that without directly commenting on it at all, this highlights how the mirror's never actually off. It's always, it's always just listening and like its camera is on. It's seeing everything. It's, it's only pretending to be asleep with a lot of modern technology. It's like, you can't even really know unless it's literally like unplugged. No batteries in it. Off, off. And still it's like put it in the drawer if I really want to be away from something. And it's, there's so many pieces of tech where it's like, I don't, I have no proof that it's doing that, but also why wouldn't they?" "Well, and it not only is it always on, but like it knows the routines and when something's slightly different, it's like, oh, Harry's home early from work. Interesting. But I'm powered down." "It's very cool too, because it's like, you're getting the sense that this thing is hearing all of this and, and seeing what it can and getting context, but it just doesn't care because it's not human. It's just like Crimson Loves must be cutting some meat. They told me he's writing a book." "The bit where it's like, man, he must be cooking the biggest meal ever. He's cutting so much meat. Like the, the like weird optimism. Cause it doesn't have a humanity. It doesn't give a shit." "I mean, it's like, I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know." "I don't know. I don't know. It's just like, must be, must be butchering a whole pig. Several pigs. Crazy." "I can't tell you how to get rid of a dead body, but I can tell you how someone would do it in a story." "Yeah." "Fiction's totally different. Also him just like falling apart, but like relying so heavily just on a fake image of himself. And like fully. Pulling himself into thinking that he's better and everything around him is better than it is just by looking in this mirror." "Yeah. Well, and I, I think to me, I, the first time I read this, I remember feeling like, okay, that's, that's kind of crazy, right? Like he's, he's feeling sick. He's has this huge wound in his leg. He's doing all this stuff, but looking in the mirror makes him feel good enough that he just continues. Cause he, but like, I think this is kind of a modern version of what is actually a very like real humanity. I mean, I think there are a lot of people who don't have something like this, but who are obsessed with appearances, right? And so no matter what's happening, as long as everything appears perfect, like to the outside world or to their friends or to even to their family, that like, that's enough to convince them that they may be operating on delusions or something. But they, they get that one thing and they're like, it looks, this looks perfect. Great. And they keep going. I mean, like, this is just a different. Different way to sort of highlight that very real, like human characteristic that does manifest in people. It's more common in like, uh, China and so many states and countries, but face filters are very much like this where, you know, they're so prevalent that no one ever wants to be seen without one. Um, and like the quality of the, the, the face filter on a device is a large part of why people might buy it. And so it's prevalent, you know, in, in the U S but it's like in some countries it's more much more, more prevalent. It's a, it's pretty crazy. Him just feeding into his own delusion the whole way, like the hallucination of what he thinks, like he's going into work, he's limping, he's sickly, he's dripping snot. At one point he wipes his snot off with his tie. So you know, like the tie itself looks awful. He looks awful. And he's like, I'm gonna try to get a promotion today, but like in his mind, he looks like this perfect buff version of himself, barely fitting into his tight fitted suit with his bulging muscles and health and fitness. When in actuality, he looks like fucking Smeagol, like I need a promotion today to like all over the boss. I do. I do like how it escalates that as, as he gets worse and worse, the mirror's like, ah, he's even more ripped. Uh, you're, you're even handsomer than you ever were before. Like got to fix, fixing that for you. Um, something about this too, makes me feel less crazy. I, this is like the, the current, I feel like culture or not culture, like the climate around AI stuff. The AI technologies that do exist currently, there's one side that's very like against it. Unhappy with the way they're getting data, unhappy with the environmental impacts, unhappy with the broad range of issues that they, but then I feel like there's the opposite side to that. That has a lot of people who are just like fully embracing AI is the future fully bought in. And it makes me feel like I'm the crazy one. It's a little bit like drinking the Kool-Aid, right? There are people who are like, damn the consequences. Damn. Whatever. This is the future. My whole life is run by AI. My squad of AI agents manages my schedule and books, my flights and, and all that. And I look at them and I'm like, I feel like that's too far. It's like even a step further. Cause I've never even considered deep faking yourself, but this guy is doing that. And I was like, okay, he's gonna be doing like virtual calls, but not like his, whatever. Maybe it's like the illnesses and the lack of care for himself that started the delusion, but like. The lack of self care. And then just the quick descent into madness and just relying on this mirror to tell him like, no, you're not bloody. They're a nice pair of maroon gloves you got. It's fascinating how the, this is like the placebo effect where he's, he's, he believes that the wood glue touching his bone doesn't hurt that bad. So he's like, ah, not that bad. Otherwise that would be like unbelievable pass out levels of agony, you know? But okay. Yeah. He's, he's just like, I'm good. Smart salary, man. Good story. Yeah. Good story. It was really well written. And that guy gave me the ick. So look forward to the next one. And uh, you guys, you get the anthology, be able to read this one on your own, and I guess give whatever voices you imagine. Funny that you mentioned the anthology, Wayne. The real hardcover book has not been available. You can now buy this realgoodai.org/anthology. Check it out. You can also buy the merch, this merch, Scary Tapes merch at distractible.shop. There is a finite supply of the merch. The books are infinite. It's print on demand, so it won't run out. But the shirts and stuff, there's a set number of those. So they might, those are going to sell out at some point, probably. So if you want it, don't wait, check it out and see if it's still available. And yeah. Thank you, Mark and Wade. Thank you, Ronan Clark for authoring the story. Fantastic stuff. Thank you so much for watching and supporting this project. Uh, we'll see you with our usual episode, but then next Friday, final Scary Tape. Prepare yourselves. It's really good. Bye. Really scary. Podcast out. Thank you so much for watching this episode. Thank you for supporting the Scary Tapes, but a special thanks has to go out to 10 more people who supported the Scary Tapes Anthology at the highest level. So thank you so much. much to these people to marion thank you so much seraphina smith thank you harry thank you for supporting us princess donut what's up princess donut nerd girl spelled as if you're an omicronian thank you so much for the supporting the scary tapes uh lycan thank you giovanna leone thank you so much sarah z ronan thank you you specifically uh cat brown thank you and finally distractible podcast team none of this that you are seeing and hearing right now would exist without um editor sam without dr eric bell from real good who made the original music as well as lois bell who did the violin performance it's part of the original music um lots of hard work for mandy and the entire team at real good but we couldn't have done it without your support as the real best patrons so thank you all of you for donating very generously we appreciate it so thank you so much for watching and i hope you enjoyed this video and i'll see you in the next one bye bye you traditional home security only alerts you to the latest in home security information after a break-in and that's too late simply safe is changing that stop this is simply safe police are on the way we don't just alert we help stop crime before it starts plans starting around a dollar a day right now get 60 off your new system with professional monitoring at simply safe.com slash spotify simply safe ahead of crime in real time outdoor deterrence plans start at 49.99 a month visit simply safe.com slash licenses for alarm license information hank joined bj's wholesale club the day he became a father of 30 i coach football now coach hank saves up to 25 off grocery store prices 30 pounds of pasta three cases of protein bars 75 sports drinks and that's just pre-game he knows teamwork and bj's knows savings this is your home coach home of the save join for just 20 at bj's.com slash mesquite and save 10 cents per gallon for six months open soon limited time offer new members only bj's home of the save