The Masks We Wear

The strongest deceptions are based on truth. Even so, it was remarkable just how flexible the human mind is. It was surprisingly easy to make someone believe in the supernatural. It wasn’t a problem for me to conjure an imaginary spider big enough to face off against a car, and it was even easier to make people scared of it. I only had to show what they were most likely to believe in, and these two men, it would seem, were slightly arachnophobic. 

I watched the unfolding scene from a perch on the base of a fire escape. I didn’t want to get physically involved this time. It was a dark section of town at a late hour -- not a good time to be out alone. I suppose it was fortunate for the young man cowering at the end of the alleyway that l had been nearby. His two attackers were being blocked from their target by an impressive black widow that was clicking and hissing like a demon.

One of the men picked up a can from the assorted litter and hurled it at the arachnid, and it bounced off its abdomen. I flinched as if I had been struck. Even though the spider wasn’t real, the power of belief can be very convincing. I realized soon enough that at least one of the attackers had either heard of me or had enough sense despite his panic to know that black widows like that just didn’t exist. 

With a determined glare, he stood his ground and the spider stopped before him. Picking up another piece of litter, he tossed it towards the creature, and it passed straight through and bounced against the pavement behind it. Sometimes belief can only get you so far. The attackers laughed with nervous victory. With a tired sigh I dismissed the illusion and it vanished. It seemed I would have to get involved anyway.

____

I had never been able to pay attention during math class. In the margins of my worksheet I had started drawing a dragon. It looked like a dragon to me, but most other people wouldn't recognize it. It looked like a winged centipede, a sloppy stick figure at best. But to me, he was a dragon. 

I had tuned out the teacher’s voice and had shifted all my attention to the little graphite creature I had drawn. It would be so amazing if he were real. I envisioned a real dragon, moving and dancing across the page. And then my drawing shifted. I blinked, mouth agape, and the dragon moved again.

Slowly, as if stretching his joints for the first time in eons, my dragon began squirming around fractions and long division. He seemed confined by the page, but he happily bounced around in the margins as if it were the most wonderful playground he could ever have.

Ms. Smith had been angrily calling my name and I had been so engrossed in my little creation that I didn’t even notice. I got in trouble and had to stay indoors during recess, but I was so fascinated by what had just happened that I didn’t seem to notice that either. I was convinced that he had come to life because of me. As soon as I looked away from him, he returned to the position I had drawn him in, and no one else seemed to know he had ever moved. It was my own tiny miracle, and surely since I had created the dragon, I had caused whatever it was that made him move.

___

The two attackers had knives, but fortunately no guns. Those were easily the worst weapons to have to fight against. I jumped down the last gap between my feet and the pavement and approached the two men calmly.

“Come on guys,” I said with exasperation. “Do we really have to jump straight to the unpleasantries?”

The answer was a decisive yes. They charged me with a yell, and I rushed forward to meet them. The dark outline of my clothes began to blur with my movement, giving me the appearance of a rippling black cloud. It made it impossible for them to know where to strike. Their hands only fell through the air while I swerved and dodged their swings. It was easier to strike them first. 

It was a short fight. I was simply a better fighter than them, and I had an illusion masking my appearance the whole time. I hit one of them in the back of the head and he collapsed to the pavement. The other followed him soon enough and I kicked their knives out of the way for good measure. I had forgotten about the victim until a voice behind me nearly made me jump.

“You’re… you’re the Prism, right?”

I whirled, blinking stupidly under my mask. “Huh?”

The young man opened his mouth to explain further but he was cut off by the sound of shouts quickly approaching the alleyway. I looked at the phone gripped in his hand.

“Friends of yours?” I assumed.

He nodded. My head began to throb like a metronome. Looks like the energy I expended on those illusions was catching up to me.

“Well, stay safe, and don’t walk alone next time. I have to get home.” I really did need to crash somewhere. The week had been tiring enough without this little incident. 

Cutting off any further conversation I walked towards a drain pipe and climbed up the wall. It was kind of hard to travel any other way besides the rooftops and alleys when I was wearing my suit. It made it much harder to blend in with everyday people when I had a strange mask on. 

My apartment was pretty close, and I was fast on the unusual terrain. Choosing an unusual route had other benefits too. As far as I was aware I was just about the only person who went this way, and that information assured me that I was practically invisible to anyone who wasn’t looking for me.

___

I stood perfectly still in my room, trying to envision myself molding into my surroundings, waiting for my test subject to appear. A few moments later, my roommate walked in. He paid me no mind and continued to store his books on top of the dresser. It was so weird, I was right next to him, and yet he acted as if I wasn’t even in the room. I made a quiet note of the result. 

“Hey.”

He jumped, then looked closer at where I was. “Ha! There you are! I couldn’t even see you for a moment, I had no idea you were there.”

“You couldn’t see me?” I asked, eyeing the glowing lamp only a few feet from me.

He laughed quietly. “Yeah, you just blended right into the shadows.”

I smiled in realization. “You didn't expect me to be there, so you didn’t see me even when I was right in front of you.”

He looked at me strangely. “Whatever, man.”

___

I clambered in through my window and drew the blinds shut behind me. With a sigh I removed my mask and switched on the TV. The news was on, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I didn’t like leaving the space empty of sound. 

I fished an Advil out of a drawer and a glass of water. My headache should be gone by morning through sleep alone, but it never hurt to take a few precautions. Lazily, I took a dry cup of Ramen off the shelf and slowly filled it with water. I didn’t have the energy to make anything better for myself.

I placed the cup in the microwave and shut the door, returning to the sofa to see if anything interesting was happening on TV. I brushed aside the loose magazines and books on the coffee table to make sure I had room to set down my noodles when they were ready. I really should clean up all these papers. Maybe I could get a shelf to help store them. Absentmindedly my hand landed on a play that I didn’t remember I had.

When I was 15 I had to read The Importance of Being Earnest in English class. Normally I like plays, but this one was tedious and I was being forced to do it. Reading that stupid play had led me to unknowingly activate my abilities for the first time in years. It was then that I realized that maybe the tiny miracles I had been seeing weren’t just a figment of my imagination.

___

My throat was getting dry. I sighed, set the play aside, and stood up. I took a few strides to cross the small room, and picked up a glass of water to bring back to the bed. But when I turned around, I saw myself sitting on the bed with the book in my hands as if I had never moved to begin with. 

I would always deny that I had screamed, but that was undoubtedly the sound that had escaped from my mouth. With a feeling like being sucked into a vacuum, my perspective crashed back into my own body. Batting the paperback aside, I whirled to look in the corner of the room I thought I had been standing in. I could barely see straight, I felt nauseous and my head ached and spun faster than a carnival ride. But when my eyes focused, I saw it. 

There was a spectral figure standing in my place. It looked solid, but it was darkened and faded, and yet still undeniably me. Its hand was curled as if holding a cup, but the item I thought I had picked up was still sitting on the table. And then it vanished.

___

That was when I had first projected an image of myself. It was also the first time I had looked through the eyes of an illusion. I ended up figuring out how to project other images, but it took longer to make them more believable, more realistic. It was draining. I didn't like to do many at once, it felt like splitting my mind apart.

When I was a kid I used to take willow branches and flay them down one end over and over again, making it look like the end of a broom. That’s what it felt like to do so many projections at once. When I dismissed the illusions, the frayed ends of my willow branch would snap back together with a thunderclap in my head. My little performances earlier in the night were no doubt the cause of my current headache.

The microwave pinged. With a grunt I pulled myself off the sofa and fetched my steaming dinner. I set the styrofoam cup on the table and placed a fork near the base. It was too hot to eat at the moment. 

The news channel was doing a segment on local crime. Despite the uncomfortable subject, the reporter was calm, peaceful even. I suppose they were just used to this job and these things had stopped surprising them. Or maybe they were too professional to get uncomfortable. Their face seemed to be a controlled mask that lacked any strong emotion. It made me feel calm just watching them, as if no matter how bad things got it would only be temporary.

I waited for my Ramen to cool off a bit and took a sip of my water. My house was always stocked with tea, coffee, juice, or milk, but I always disappointed guests with my lack of alcohol. I never had it in the house, I was just thankful that my visitors never questioned why it always tasted so bitter to me.

___

“Guys I don’t think this is a good idea.”

My friends eyed me with disappointment.

“Come on dude,” One of them spoke up. “Quit being such a wuss.”

“You’re never any fun.” Another grumbled. A few had turned their backs to me already.

“Hey, wait!” I suddenly cried. “You’re right, the biology teacher won’t miss us anyway.” I boasted, a confident grin masking my face. “We can stay out here as long as we need.”

“Good,” One of the guys cut in. “Would have been a shame if you hadn’t stuck around.” He reached into his backpack and drew out a bottle filled with amber liquid. It looked almost like perfume. I knew that it was no such thing.

___

The water was cold, but not cold enough to hurt my teeth. It was refreshing. I set down the cup and speared the tangled noodles before me. Interestingly enough, the channel I had been watching had a segment about me. It wasn’t a special or anything, it was more of a small mention amongst the typical news on local crime. I had become a bit of an urban legend, a local hero, even. 

“This illusion-creating vigilante has gathered a following of supporters to counter their collection of enemies...”

The reporter sat professionally in their trim outfit, eyeing the camera with a composed look of confidence. I wish I could look that good in front of a camera. Actually, I would like it if I could look like that in front of anyone. It was just easier to wear a mask. Oscar Wilde once said that a person will only show you their true nature when they hide behind a mask. I don’t think he was talking about a physical mask, but I understood what he meant.

“The local population has nicknamed this mysterious figure “Prism” for their unusual ability to alter the appearance of their surroundings similar to a refraction image...”

The Prism, huh? I had heard that name thrown around once or twice recently. I humored myself with what It could be like to be interviewed by the reporter.

When did you become the Prism? What’s your origin story?

And I would tell them: I became the Prism when people started calling me that. But I’ve been making illusions for a very long time, although it's hard to say exactly how long.

And why is that?

When you’re a kid, you can convince yourself of some crazy things, and looking back when you're a bit older it's easy to write off what you saw as imagination. I’m pretty sure that illusions have always been with me whether I registered them or not.

About your illusions, how do you make them so convincing?

I would smile under my mask, and then reply: It's simple. Every good deception is based on truth. You just have to make it convincing enough for your target. I know better than anybody that if you want to create an illusion, it has to be something someone would want to believe in….

___

The boys locker room was always echoing with conversation. It was a background noise that I had gotten used to. But amid all the usual chatter I heard my name being called. I turned around to see one of my friends looking at me expectantly. 

“I forgot my gym clothes,” He explained. “I need you to lend me yours.”

“But then..” I looked down at the pile of fabric in my hands and then back at him. “What will I wear?”

He shrugged. “Just your normal clothes or something.”

I hesitated, thinking about how upset the P. E teacher would be if I said I forgot my clothes again. The outfit was quickly snatched from my hands.

“Figure it out genius,” My friend said. “It's not that big of a deal.”

I tried to stutter out an excuse for why I should keep them, but a different arm suddenly looped itself around my shoulders. I turned to see a familiar face giving me a reassuring look.

“Look man, it's not a big deal,” the newcomer argued. “We’re friends, dude.” He said with a coy smile. “Friends stick together.”

We were friends. I couldn’t argue with that.

___

My phone buzzed, tugging me out of my daydream. It was a notification from my digital calendar, a reminder that I was eating dinner with my family this Friday. They were good people and they cared about me, but maybe a bit too much for what was comfortable. Dinner would be nice, but the conversation may be a little less pleasant. It might be stressful, but it wouldn’t be too hard. I had a steady job, a mostly fake social life, and a completely imaginary romantic partner. I just had to make them believe. 

I sighed. I actually did have a girlfriend a few months ago. She was sweet, or at least I thought she was; there was more to her than what she chose to present. Those pieces, the ones she hid, they were… not nice. But it had been worse that she deceived me. Or maybe it had been worse that I had fallen for it so easily. It was so simple when I wanted it to be true. It had been easier for her to weave my truths into something prettier to look at.

It was a perfectly crafted illusion, one that could rival my own. But the reason it had worked so well was because I had wanted to believe in it. Illusions can only take hold when the target works with the illusionist, and I would know that easily. The truth can so easily become a lie that it sometimes seems impossible to tell the difference.

Every person I’ve ever deceived, even back when I only conjured pranks and magic tricks, they all had a bit of truth that could be manipulated.

The way they viewed the world, the way they thought, that was the truth to them. I only had to show what they were going to believe in. That made the strongest illusion, the one that was based on truth.