Try to hold on

We meet in secret.  Always in someones basement, well away from the prying eyes of the security cameras that exist purely to protect us.

Arriving already wearing our masks, we sit around a candle and talk.  It is common knowledge that the government infiltrate any and all groups to find trouble makers.  The masks were decided early on, far better to protect our identity when the traitor reveals themselves.

I really hope is it not me.

As usual, we start with the gold mask telling us that this reality is nothing but an illusion.  Created simply to keep us docile.  The real world is out there somewhere, hidden from view and sending messages to help free us.  Like faint radio waves, they are rarely heard but occasionally they get through.

They do not want us to question the status quo, that is why all dissent is quickly stamped on.

How we have managed to remain untouched for so long just makes me even more sure that one of us is not who they seem.

Each of us have, in one way or another, seen the circuit board under this reality and picked up the faint broadcasts from the real world.  That shared experience is what led us to this gathering.

In my case, I saw the mirror men.

During my morning commute, I looked around the carriage at the solemn faces of my fellow travellers.  There was a man a couple of seats up from me who was fast asleep.  I envied his escape from the journey and would have turned my attention to someone else if I had not seen him.

In the reflection cast by the window, I saw the same man.  Wide awake and reading a paper, the like I had never seen before.  Blinking to clear my vision, I looked again and yet the man was still there, his counterpart still fast asleep.

For a brief moment I wanted to share this with the woman beside me but  quickly realised that would just lead to trouble.

So I watched as casually as I could manage.  The mirror man continued reading, flipping the pages of the newspaper on a regular basis.  I could see brightly coloured photographs on the pages, unfortunately I could not make out what they depicted.

As the train pulled into the station, the man closed and folded the paper and turned to look at me.

A smile crossed his lips and then he winked at me.

That is when I noticed all the mirror men and women were looking at me. I turned to face my own reflection and saw that he was mouthing words to me.

I could not get off that train quick enough.

For a long time I avoided looking to see if they were still there on my journeys but eventually curiosity got the better of me.

They were still there and they looked angry.

I never told the group that part.


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