Theme: Trapped in a mirror universe.
Initial thoughts: This is tough for a couple reasons - the first is defining the "mirror" of a mirror universe. What is different? Everything? Just a few things? People? Circumstances? It's a pretty big concept to play with, and to do it well is tough. This is the typical "Fish Out of Water" scenario, and that's what drives stories like this - the thought of "what new mess will our main character find themselves in?" So what's changed? I think this should be written in the firs-person, either like a correspondence or a diary entry. That offers some more interesting ideas. Do I get into politics? Given the current climate, THAT could be interesting. Hmmmmm....What if society was largely matriarchal? There's some meat there to feast on. And away we go......
The funny
thing about being trapped in a mirror universe is that you don’t know whether
you’ve been trapped in one, or if you’re just going crazy. I should know. I’ve been living here for five years. Just when you think you get the hang of it,
there’s always something that throws you off.
It’s a tiny thing, you think, something that just makes sense, and so
you get a little complacent, take it for granted, and assume everyone thinks
like that. Only, of course, they don’t.
I saw
it in silly things, at first. Traffic
lights here are different in that you go on red and stop on green. That took a little while to get used to, but
I managed. You want a high golf score
here. Tax day is in November, not April,
and Christmas is in June. It was things
like that, mostly, and that’s fine. In
the grand scheme of life, these are relatively unimportant to me. I can get used to that, and I did. It just takes a little getting used to and
knowing how to keep your mouth shut and let the situation explain itself. That’s mainly how I’ve been able to get
through life here. That, and some
patience.
In all, it’s not a bad place. It’s not the horror show that science fiction
writers of our world make it out to be.
Not at all. Things are just a
little different. They add up quickly,
and if you’re not careful, you’ll make some error and get into trouble. You have to mind the specifics. Never greet anyone with a “good morning,”
always shake hands with the left, and should you go out dancing, remember to
let the lady lead. I think that’s the
hardest thing to get used to: society here grew up along the matriarchal line.
It’s
really very different, and took a lot to get used to. For one, women commonly cat-call the men as
we walk along, minding our own business.
I was kind of flattered by it, at first, and rather enjoyed the
attentions when it first began happening.
There’s nothing like knowing you’re attractive to the opposite sex,
after all. But then, I began to notice that
it wasn’t about being told I was attractive.
There was a lewdness to it. Now,
I don’t look forward to it at all. I
keep my head down, and I’ve started to wear longer coats so as to hide my
figure a little more. Pants below the
knee don’t real much, thankfully.
The men
here do a lot of preening and primping in order to look good for their
women. I don’t quite understand why this
is all necessary, and frankly, I think it makes most men look rather foolish
and stupid, but that’s the culture here.
I don’t do anything beyond a little cologne. I was told yesterday that if I put a little
more care into myself, that I could really be quite handsome and would have no
trouble finding a lady. I thanked the
guy who told me that politely and went on my way.
I’ve
found there are certain things you have to be careful of, too. I’ve learned – the hard way – not to leave
your drink unattended at the bar. I don’t
like to talk about it. I don’t want to
be known as a fool, or an easy target.
It’s bad enough that I have to live with knowing what happened that
night. Or, rather, NOT knowing what
happened that night. I don’t remember
much. I remember being kissed by a
woman. Maybe there was more than
one. Like I said, I don’t like to talk
about it.
There
are some bonuses to this society, though.
Politics is better. There are the
occasional fights in Congress, and there’s the usual vote-trading and things
like that, but it’s pretty clear who works well with who, and they generally
get things done. The air is cleaner
here, and there’s a lot more respect for different races. I suppose sexism is a small price to pay for
those benefits. It’s not that I’m afraid
of going out, it’s just not worth the hassle, most of the time. I’d rather just sit in my apartment and go
about my life, live quietly here, while I keep trying to figure out how to get
back home.
It’s
been five years, and I haven’t found a way back yet. I’m beginning to think I may never get back
again. Maybe I should go out and see if
there’s any way to find a good woman to take care of me, and settle down and
raise a family. That’s not so mad a
life. It beats living alone, at
least. Or maybe I’ll just get a
cat. Or three. Yeah, that’s not going to help my chances, I
don’t think.
Sitting
here, writing this, I realize that I feel a bit like Dorothy in “The Wizard of
OZ.” I don’t think anyone here would
understand that reference, but I feel like all I want to do is click my heels
three times, and then I can be whisked away off home, and this will all be a
bad dream. A really long, bad
dream. Or maybe I can just re-write all
the classics from my world and make a whole lot of money. That would be something. They don’t even know who Shakespeare
was. That didn’t happen here.
Thanks for reading,
Me
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