Photo by Felix Grant (The Growlery)
I blew it. I looked.
I looked at Shrodinger's cat. Watched him split in two - one half dying in my world, the other half living in some parallel alternate universe.
Shrodinger was pissed, but let's face it, if I hadn't looked I wouldn't have unlocked the mystery. The mystery of life... and reflections. That phenomenon we used to think was caused by the bending and bouncing of light particles.
It's funny to think we actually used to believe that nonsense. We're wiser now.
Now we know that the face looking back at us in the mirror, or up at us from the water's surface is actually an alternate us. An alternate us in an alternate universe. It's the act of looking that causes the split. Perception of a self creates that self, so just by seeing a reflection--by perceiving its existence--we make it so. And it just stands to reason that the creation of one would necessitate the destruction of the other.
I've packed up all my mirrors, I'm more selective about where I look these days. I feel a sense of ownership for them - those perceptions. What if that last perception wasn't done yet? And then there I go, creating a new universe and collapsing the old with my newborn perspective.
It begs the question: who perceived me?
And how long will their perception last?