The Narcissus

He stands, frowning, looking into the mirror on his bedroom wall. A stranger looks back at him from under strong black brows. He is handsome, undeniably - his jawline is square, his features chiseled. His prominent chin is studded with two days’ stubble and his thick hair is swept up above his angular forehead. 

Robert reaches out and presses the touchscreen panel on the side of the mirror. A pleasing note sounds from the invisible in-built speaker and, before Robert’s eyes, a short boxed beard appears on the stranger’s face, accentuating his high cheekbones. 

It’s a good look.

Robert presses the touchscreen again and now the stranger sports sharp sideburns. Even better. Robert smiles and the stranger beams back, flashing white teeth. It’s a smile that would make any girl swoon. 

“Dinner’s on the table!” The voice of Robert’s mum rings out from the hallway, and Robert jabs a finger at the touchscreen once more. The gentle humming of the mirror dies and its reflective surface flickers. In an instant, the stranger is gone. In his place is Robert - familiar, boring Robert, with his weak chin and crooked nose. Robert, with his blotchy skin still scarred by acne. Robert, with his ears sticking out from the side of his head in a way that, at primary school, earned him the nickname ‘Taxi Door Ears’. Robert sighs as he stands for a moment, contemplating his reflection. 

“Robert! It’s getting cold!”

Into the kitchen, where a plate of lasagne sits steaming on the table. Robert pulls up a chair and begins to eat, the memory of his reflection still lingering unpleasantly in his mind’s eye. 

“How was college today?”

“Was OK, Mum,” Robert says between mouthfuls. Under the table, he pulls his phone out of his jeans and opens up Instagram, checking his feed. Images of picture-perfect influencers float upwards across the screen as he scrolls through. One man, dressed in smart button-down shirt and drinking from a sapphire martini, wears a well-trimmed goatee. Robert makes a mental note to himself. One to try out with the Narcissus.

A text flashes up on screen. 

wyd? x

Robert pushes the notification out of the way, spoons another mouthful of lasagne into his mouth, and continues scrolling.

“Robert - put your phone away,” his mum says. “Who are you texting anyway?”

“Not texting anyone, Mum. Just browsing.”

“Well, not at the dinner table please. What lessons did you have today?”

Robert reels off his timetable as quickly as he can. Physics. Maths. Computer science. He’s impatient - uninterested in reciting the details of his dreary day. As soon as he’s finished his last spoonful of lasagne, he pushes back the chair and makes his excuses. He has homework to finish. He picks up his plate, drops it in the dishwasher, and returns to his room. Standing before the mirror again, he strokes the side of the pane. The mirror hums into life and, from the menu that appears on its surface, he selects the autosave from earlier that evening. Instantly, his reflection is replaced by that of the stranger. 

Robert contemplates the image for a few moments. Sometimes, he forgets that the reflection is in truth of his own face, that hidden somewhere beneath the computer generated imagery are his own weak chin and crooked nose. 

When he’d first bought himself a Narcissus mirror, after months of saving up the money, Robert had used it sparingly - to try out a new hairstyle here, a new beard length there. He’d used the app to upload the computer generated images from the mirror to his phone and show them to his barber - a short back and sides just the way he wanted it, or a chinstrap just how he’d seen it modelled on the red carpet. He’d liked his new haircuts well enough, but had found that he was still left strangely dissatisfied; the finished product didn’t quite match the photo in the magazine. He wasn’t quite carrying off the look. 

Over time, Robert had begun to play around with the other options the Narcissus offered. Sliders allowed him to modify, in the mirror, any part of his appearance. He’d tried smoothening his skin. He’d experimented with bulking out his jaw. When he switched the Narcissus off, and was left gazing at his own, unaltered reflection, he was struck with how unhappy he was with his own unfiltered face. The acne scars on his cheeks looked even more prominent than he remembered, his ears even more pronounced than he’d thought they were. Paying for plastic surgery using the Narcissus’ sponsored provider was, for the moment, out of the question: the indicative prices that flashed up in the bottom corner of the mirror when he played with the sliders were prohibitive on his Saturday job salary. For now, he had to content himself with experimentation, each day making tweaks and improvements, saving different combinations of features, searching for the perfect face he’d be happy to one day call his own. 

Now, Robert opens up the beard options menu on the mirror’s interactive pane and selects a goatee, similar to the one he saw when browsing at the dinner table. He looks at his phone to compare results. Another text sits waiting at the top of the screen.

Want to hang out tonight? x

‘Hah,’ Robert says to himself, a short bitter laugh. He is laughing at the idea that anybody would want to be seen with him - with his weak chin and his crooked nose. He knows that the text isn’t sincere - or perhaps it was meant for someone else, someone without acne scarring and taxi door ears. He pushes the text off his screen and puts the phone down on his desk before turning back to the mirror, carefully considering the reflection before him. The nose could do with a little more straightening, the eyes with a touch of brightening. Robert adjusts the sliders - there. Almost perfect. But not quite. He moves the sliders again. Better? Maybe. He’s not sure. Robert thinks he may have moved them too far this time. 

His phone buzzes. He glances across at his desk and reads the text that has appeared on the screen. 

Robbie? xx

Robert pauses for a moment, indecisive, wondering whether to pick up the phone and reply. His gaze wanders back to the mirror and - something doesn’t seem quite right. He turns his head slightly to get a better view of his profile and frowns. His jawline is off. Strange. He thought he remembered getting it perfect the night before. He steps closer to the mirror so as to inspect his chin better and instead instinctively touches his ears. Now he looks at them, he’s not at all sure they’re as they should be. And come to think of it, the shape of his eyebrows could do with some work as well. Robert opens up the menu on the mirror pane and begins to fiddle once again with the different settings. It’s going to take a while, he thinks to himself, but it’s not as if he’s got other plans. Is this self-improvement or self-abasement? Self-love or self-loathing? Perhaps all of them at once. Robert gazes into the Narcissus and the stranger - handsome, well-groomed, masculine - stares back. An evening with the man in the mirror awaits.