The Mirror of Harry Aalders (The Scary Tapes)

stick Bob here from the future to remind you that the scary tapes anthology the book is on sale you could buy it in a hardcover or in an ebook format please check out the links at realgoodai.org/anthology 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'd be fantastic thanks 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 lowest 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 through everyone who supported me in pursuit of a dream the mirror of hairy alters by Ronin Clark a dull little bulb winked in and out periodically bathing the small upstairs room and shadows in blue light and 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 not 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 pretended 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 the tap of the screen the blue lights 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 the writhing rainbow geometry bubbled out like a visualizer has the mirror spoken its usual clinical voice warning just my reflection please mirror of course Harry the mirror obliged the mirrors 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 hush 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 shruggy straightened and left the room that'll do mirror put yourself to sleep he called over his shoulder as he went the mirror said in its usual dutiful tone switching off as the user killed the lights the user paid little attention to the mirrors 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 peeked below the door before the mirrors 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 sigh he fixed his suit where please make me look more presentable of course Harry the mirror obliged the reflection shifted no longer was a 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 and maculately kept business suit the user smiled and Harry smiled back at him the feathering edges of his mouth smoothing out hastily before they ruined the illusion is this presentable enough please let me know if there are any other alterations you would like to see the mirror asked I'll do thanks bear but yourself to sleep of course how the 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 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 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 responded hmm 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 to it 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 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 grope for the light switch in the dark the user dragged his hand up and crest the screen like a fat fingered zombie the mirrors standard world of color and shape greeted him good morning harry reflection mirror the user gurgled of course harry staring back at him this mourn 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 halfheartedly adjusted his clothes with a grunt as he took the tie off to fix it mucous 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 business man I know I am of course harry the mirror obliged the user watched as his reflection shifted his absolutely normal emerald green eyes when swept 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 that's perfect the user sniffed you know mirror I could always rely on you I'm glad you think so harry I'm 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 where the mirrors swirling colors shrunk for a moment as it process the request if you are feeling healthy I see no reason why you cannot continue to work like you 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 I supposed to be stupid not to give me a promotion the mirrors visualizer world 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 keep up the hard work harry the user smirked and wipes wet from his brow I'm glad you agree thanks bear 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 the 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 that I tripped 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 petnish 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 for school." The partner hesitated a moment. When she spoke again, it was quieter, harder to make out from the top of the stairs. "Okay, we'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 multi-colored 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 multi-colored maelstrom of the mirror's AI danced in 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 in beginning to sag. His eyes were dull, nearing lifeless. His suit was somewhat bedraggled. An enormous tear ran up the length of the leg, shrouded 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 blood stain 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. With 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. "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 superglue around here somewhere." The user trailed off as he started looking around the room. "Oh, perfect. Yes, superglue 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 small roll of bandages. He rooted around in one of the small cabinets by the door and produced a small bottle of superglue. The mirror couldn't recognize the brand, but it seemed to be wood and fabric glue. The type that burned skinned. 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 using wound with the bandage exceedingly tight. Blood immediately soaked through the fabric, making a near-indistinguishable from his waxy, livid leg. When he was satisfied that it was tight enough he ran a thick line of superglue 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 in 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. 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. Cook 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 asleep 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's 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, "It's been better, but it's not bad. Doctors glued it shut and bandaged it before they set me on my way. So it wasn't too bad and didn't need stitches." "Oh, honey. Can I see?" Silence for a moment. The user may have responded nonverbally, such as by shaking his head. "Not just now, honey. It 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 Katy 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 and 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 Flemmy, and obviously passing through an abrasive throat. "Honey, I have to go in. I just got promoted to provide work ethic. What do you think they'll do if I stop showing up over something so trivial?" "Privial? 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 to recognize the talents and diligence of his employees. I can't say I'm sorry 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 and suit." 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 dropped to break the quiet 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, in eerily 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, if lanced away from the sudden illumination. as if he hadn't expected it. His skin seemed to sag about his bones, paler too 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 scratch sores he'd evidently been hiding from his partner with clothes and darkness both. When he turned to face the mirror his hair was bedrackled and starting to dry and split. His pupils were contracted to pinpricks and sickly green puddles swarmed 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 in 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 lights 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 Rive Nebula, his hair like sun-dappled timber. His suit and immaculately tailored in ostentatious showing of high society. That smile, impossibly wide, never left the reflection's face as the user admired his true self. "Hit 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 judgment." 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 off a conversation with her in a judgment-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 isn't the wrong, and she shouldn't have been so vindictive." "Blood, you agree. Okay, Mayor. I'm going to work now." "Okay, Harry. Have a good day at work. 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 to fly that, undisweightable attitude like you always do." "Oh, make sure, too." The user nodded. "What's yourself to sleep, Err?" "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, scraping together with every movement. When he made it up to the mirror's room, he limped off over to its left to 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, 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. 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 sight of the mirror, did a second hammer and knock at the door. "Hurry all doors. 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-gravally tone. "Hello, sirs. Sorry, I'm feeling quite. " He cut off as he was racked by a fit of coughing. "Sorry. How could I help?" "This won't take too long, Mr. Olders. Were you aware of Mr. McNerey, your employer, was found dead in his office this morning?" The user coughed once again. "I think 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 co-workers, 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 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 dormat, perhaps. Holding side and thrown it off 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 a 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, judging by the sounds. Surfaces were scrubbed. Whole areas were rinsed. It was a thorough job if the mirrors 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 mirrors chambers, staggering out of its site once more. There was a clatter as he dropped the blood stained implements to the floor. His breath shakily wheezing up as congested throat as he rattled out a flem-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 deli, but he didn't seem to notice her 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 gorge is 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, bear." 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 mirrors visualized are almost seem to hesitate for a moment. "I'm sorry, Harry. I can't help you with that." The user shook his head embatically. His reflection becoming a blurred after image for a moment before returning with differently shaded hair. "Oh, no, bear. 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 telltale 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 they were leaving nowhere. evidence. At the end of the tale, the protagonist gives himself up to the police, because he can still hear his father's heart beating beneath the floor. Classic stories like this are in the public domain, so you can even include elements of it within your own story if you desire. The user nodded sage Lee for a moment, scratching his chin and smearing more blood across his jaw. When he removed his hand, the reflection interpreted the new stain as a handsome 5 o'clock shadow. Using the bath tub to make sure there's no DNA evidence, I'd have to make sure there's no leftover blood or anything that could draw attention. In my story, the villain has to get rid of a cop car, drive it into a lake, maybe? Yes, a story's villain making sure evidence of their crime is covered up is a great way to make readers respect them as a cunning and capable antagonist. Any piece of hair, clothing or blood could lead to the capture or defeat of a careless villain. I think having your villain drive the police car into a lake would make for an excellent diversion for your protagonist. You have an excellent talent for writing, Harry. With the sickening smirk, the user turned away from the mirror without further orders. Still scratching his chin, he hobbled away in silence. Down the stairs and out of sight he went. But it wasn't long before the sounds of him rummaging about the house came to the mirror. Coupled to open, objects were dragged and rolled and dropped. Meat that may have been pork was sliced, bone and all, by sharp knives and sawing motions. The user must have been preparing a large meal with the amount of meat he was preparing. Eventually though, a bathtub ran. The user trudged back to the stairs, hauling would look like his child's wagon behind him. The wagon was loaded with multiple red cloth bags, which the user brought upstairs one by one. He dragged the mishapen crimson lumps behind the mirror's blind spot, where they clattered to the collection of utensils that lay discarded there. When the user had brought them all up, and after about coughing, gagging and wheezing, he unceremoniously brought up the wagon as well, clumsily casting it aside as he hacked up the contents of his lung into his elbow, with a dissatisfied grunt he shut the door behind him, trudging his way down the stairs, silence then outside. A car started in the empty street. It was some hours before the user returned. During that time, the mirror could only hear the dull hum of its own fans, spinning away to reduce the heat of constantly reflecting the wall of the empty room. Undismissed by its user, that in the occasional buzzing of a fly that was interested in something the user had brought upstairs earlier. But the monotony was shattered by the user's familiar trudging footsteps as he dragged himself up the stairs. As he opened the door, the mirror's screen automatically edited itself to show his now soaking wet clothes as tastefully dampened, hugging muscles the user didn't have, emphasizing a physique a salary man could never attain. The murderer dubs the cop's car nearby a lake and uses a bicycly and stashed in the boot to ride home afterwards. He threw it out the car, they drove the car in and it got on the bike and rode hope. How's that for a story? The user panted and clutched at his injuries as he dragged himself into the room. "That's an excellent piece of riding." The mirror responded diligently, unperturbed by his words or his absence. "Would you like me to rewrite it for you or give you any pointers on how to improve it?" The user shook his head. "Don't worry about it." The user approached the mirror then and set his shoulder against it, with a grunt and a string of expletives he pushed the mirror aside. The heavy base of the mirror threatened to hinder the progress of the injured and ill man, but he shoved it aside all the same. Suddenly the mirror could see a whole new angle of its home room, a dark corner piled with cutlery, a discarded drawer, a couple of handguns and a pile of oozing red sacks. Dust had been kicked up from the seldom disturbed floorboards and danced in front of its camera, and all the while the mirror deepfaked upon its surface an idealized version of what it saw. "Fuck!" the user hissed as he collapsed to the floor before the mirror. He clutched at his sloppily bandage leg and blood ran between his fingers. His exertions had obviously taken a lot out of him, but he dragged himself to the corner regardless, coughing and spluttering. He pulled one of the shopping bags from the pile, peeling it open, he revealed a long piece of bone in meat, a human arm, amateurishly hacked off and stained red along its length. Its hand and fingers locked in position, barely paying the thing in mind. The user re-wrapped it and grabbed a different bag. This one's cloth was not as stained as the others, and within it were a collection of tools. He produced a drill and a hammer and set to work. Beneath where the mirror usually sat, he pried at the floorboards, drilling and bashing into them. He seemed to care little about the steady left them in. When he pulled them free, he leaned down to drag his injured hand through the insulation. If it caused him pain, his dull eyes did not show it. He pulled free panel, after panel of fiberglass until he could reach his arm all the way in. Then, meticulously, he slid each bloody bag into the gap. He shoved them in as far as he could, pushing hard to pack them as close together as possible. When every bag had been placed, the guns went next. He took up the bloody knife and examined the browning stain in the afternoon light, coming to a decision he threw it back into the pile and shoved the insulation back into the floor, dragging the remains of the floor panels into place. He nailed the cavity shut with a haphazard sloppiness unworthy of even an amateur child. Moving out of the mirror's line of sight, the user grunted and coughed. The mirror's perspective shifted once again as the user pushed it back into place. As the user stepped in front of it once more, he dusted off his hands. The reflection interpreted his blood-stained paws as a fetching pair of maroon gloves. "Thanks for the help, bear. I'm going to go take a shower before the wife gets home." The user chuckled in the shuddering way one does when putting on an air of rvato. "She's ready late. I wonder what's keeping her. Anyway, put yourself to sleep, bear." "Of course. Have a good night, Harry." The mirror chamber was bathed in darkness once more. The user had never left it on for such a long period of time before. As he walked away like nothing had happened, the mirror's fans wound down slowly. When they finally stopped, stillness pervaded the home as a false sense of normalcy settled in the evening. The sounds of the user followed their normal routine, but dantically so. But the user's partner and child did not return that eve. It was not until late the next morning did the sound of the user's partner's car arriving reached the sensors of the mirror. Faint footsteps came from the direction of the user's bedroom as he moved in the direction of the front door to greet his partner. The door was opened, and one set of faint footsteps made their way inside, but not a second. The quieter, more sporadic footfalls of the child did not seem to be present. A conversation began then, and the echo of the voices indicated the sound must be bouncing off of tiles, likely those found in the kitchen. The mirror could not make out the words exactly, but the tone was evident. The user and his partner argued over something. And as their pitch grew higher in their volume grew louder, the mirror was able to begin to make things out. "You seriously believe I killed that man?" came the user's voice. "You said the cops came. Why the fuck else would they be here?" The user's wife said hysterically. "Yes, like I just fucking said they spoke to me because I worked there. I told them I didn't know anything and they left. That's it." It was a sound like someone being shoved. "Why are you so okay with this? Tell me what's going on, or better yet, turn yourself in." "Why should I do that? I'm not a fucking murderer. I'm brilliant. Smart. You people just don't see that. You people? What the fuck are you talking about? That's it. I'm done. I'm calling the cops, or the hospital, or something. It's obvious you need both. Don't do that. Why? Why should Harry let go? Don't do that." The user's partner cried out for a moment, then stopped. It was a muffled sound then, hard to make out in the dark room atop the stairs. A series of thuds came a few moments later, followed by the user's muted voice. His partner did not respond. A dragging and a stomping approached the stairs. Accompanied by the moderate voice 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, disheveled and bloody. His wrist bent at an op-two-sangle. Bone poking against the inside of his skin, unperturbed by the fresh injury he dragged behind in 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. "Err, make me look normal, please." "Of course, Harry." The image changed, and a deep-faked, perfect, hairy, 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. Though, I spoke to my wife, Mayor. 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'm glad you were able to reach an amicable conclusion. I hope you and your wife will 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 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 face is showing no true emotions. They aren't quite right. Could you make them better? Of course Harry. The mirror obliged once more. The face has changed. The clothes changed. But the uncanny smiles remained. The user though was pleased. His own reflected smile stretched 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 old reflection. The end. Pause. Broric cheers. I was a fun one. I like the perspective of from the mirror. Adding like I'm feeling well. 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. Lucy, 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 mirrors never actually off. It's always it's always just listening and like it's cameras on. It's seeing everything. 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 in a 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 I wouldn't they? Well, and it not only is it always on, but like it knows the routines and when something slightly different, it's like, oh, Harry's home early from work today. Interesting, but I'm powered out. 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 like weird optimism because it doesn't have a humanity doesn't give a shit. 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 folding 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 think to me, 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 has this huge wound in his leg. He's he's doing all this stuff. But looking in the mirror makes him feel good enough that he just continues because he but like I think this is kind of a modern version of what is actually a very like real human thing. 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 they're like it looks, this looks perfect. Great. And they keep going. I mean, like this is just a different way to sort of highlight that very real like human characteristic that does manifest in people. It's more common in like 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. And like the quality of the the the face filter on advice is a large part of why people might buy it. And so it's prevalent, you know, in the US, but it's like in some countries is much more more prevalent. It's pretty crazy. I'm 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. Not 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 going to 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 smegle like I need a promotion today. Like you like all over the boss. I do. I do like how it escalates that as as he gets worse and worse. The mirror is like, I he's even more ripped. You're even handsomer than you ever were before. Like got a fix in that for you. Something about this too makes me feel less crazy. This is like 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 cool aid, right? There are people who are like damn the consequences damn the dangers of 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 an even a step further because I've never considered deep faking yourself but this guy is doing that. I was like okay he's going to 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 paramour room gloves you got. It's fascinating how this is like the placebo effect where he's he believes that the wood glue touching his bone doesn't hurt that bad so he's like 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 but good story was really well written and that guy gave me the ik 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 way in the real hardcover book has not been available you can now buy this real good AI.org/anology check it out you're also by the merch this merch scary tape merch it's distractable.shop there is a finite supply of the merch the books are infinite it's print on demand so they won't run out but the shirts and stuff there's a set number of those so they might they're just gonna sell out at some point probably so if you want it don't wait check it out 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 and we'll see you with our usual episode but then next Friday final scary tape prepare yourselves it's really 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 uh 10 more people who supported the scary tapes anthology at the highest level so thank you so much to these people to Marion thank you so much seraphina smith thank you harry thank you for supporting us princess donut so princess donut nerd girl spelled as if you're an omacronian thank you so much for the supporting the scary tapes uh likened thank you jiovana leone thank you so much sera z Ronan thank you you specifically uh cat brown thank you and finally distractable podcast team none of this that you're seeing and hearing right now would exist without editor sam without dr eric bell from real good who made the original music as well as lowest bell who did the violin performance it's part of the original music um lots of hard work from Andy and the entire team at real good but we couldn't have done it without your support as the real best patient so thank you all of you for donating very generously we appreciate it so thank you you (upbeat music)