It is claimed that the next step in technology is upon us, technology that will not only mirror our thoughts, but talk back to us. The new technology will be more than just a passive mirror, it will be a mirror that talks back to reality, in close touch with Spiritus Mundi, the spirit of the world. Or such is the claim. This is all very well, but what if reality doesn’t want to talk to the mirror? I found my mirror sulking the other morning, and I asked what the matter was. She said she’d tried to strike up a conversation with reality and he just ignored her. I said reality was like that.

Reality is sometimes like a Sunday
At ease, relaxed, content to take a nap
At other times it knows there is a Mundi
And hates to look up on the false drawn map
The places where there seems to be the trouble
Most likely to cause strife and also pain
Where people sit uneasily on the bubble
Just longing for reality in vain
She said she understands why he’s not talking
It’s just that techies try but can’t perfect
An interface where folks like me are gawking
At images that we can but reflect
Why do I only see my own reflection
Why can’t I see the wide world as it is
Why is it that reality’s perfection
Why is I’m so flat and he’s the fizz
I left her on the wall so quiet sobbing
Alone she was and wanting so much more
Her dream of sweet reality hobnobbing
As silently I closed the bathroom door