Intricate and intwined, etched metal leaves and vines framed what looked like a one meter long oval mirror. The mirror’s leaves were Art Nouveau stylized orchid leaves meaning the vines were aerial rootsBenj was reminded of the old storybooks he used to read to his boy. One of the particularly odd fairytales featured a sinister mirror and a bloodthirsty queen. Benj decided the frame was beautiful but the matte black glass was unsettling. He smiled broadly at the psychiarist hoping his smile hid his discomfort.

“This is my therapeutic aid. I was calling it a phantom mirror but an associate said that name could be misconstrued as creepy. We will conduct an exercise, just an exercise based on some of my recent research in our unique forms of psychic trauma. Alone, you look in this two-way mirror. The reflection is delayed forcing the subject to look at themselves as a stranger and as a reflection. It helps brings the disparate pieces of a anxious/depressive mind together. You ask the mirror questions or have a simple conversation. There will be AI generated responses coming from the image. Your conversation is private and afterwards we can talk about what feelings emerged for you. There are no wrong or right answers, Det. Hatchet," Dr. Dora Juno said. “You can say, ‘how do you do?’ or “I love long walks.’ Whatver come to mind.”

Benj looked at the void. The blank “mirror” seemed to be watching and waiting. His skin crawled and he gave an involuntary shiver. That had never happened to him before outside of extreme weather changes. The only thing Benj wanted to say to this diabolical thing was, oh hell no. Benj offered the doctor his most endearing smile. Upside down he saw her type, “uses charm to attempt to manipulate others.”

“Fascinating, it sounds like an amazing tool. Listen, Doctor, I appreciate your coming out from Ring City, I reallydo. I read your book and what your doing for our kind is admirable but I don’t need my head shrunk. The department requires its personnel to have one psych assessment after a violent crime and usually I just visit with Doc Conchita. Tick a box, you know. I just need extra charging time. I’ve had a couple of late nights. But I’m—“

“fine. You’re fine. You’re fine means reflexes diminished by 13% and your couple of late nights is 21 days averaging 2.7 hours of daily recharging time instead of the minimal 5 hours. Humans like to think of us as machines nuts and bolts. We are not machines. We are not windup toy soldiers that can go on and on. We are a complex system of bioengeered tissues on a metal framework. Yes we are stronger than human but we can break. You’re breaking, Det. Hatchet.”

“Doctor Juno, this is bigger than a murder. There’s a terror campaign that the powers that be don’t want to recognize. I’ve been patrolling some of the nearby farms in my down time to give the locals some extra security. It’s temporary,” Hatchet said. “I’m not falling apart yet.”

“How’s that left calf muscle? Det. Hatchet. The one that is throbbing from the constant muscle spasms. You are tapping your left foot to release some of the discomfort. It’s not working, is it? Then there’s the micro twitching of your eyebrows indictative of synapic resetting as your positronic brain is trying to reserve its energy stores. Now your shoulders are hunched slightly—“

“Enough!”

Shouting, Hatchet slammed his fist on the metal conference table denting it. Juno jumped back. The phantom mirror shook and tilted. Violently, the detective pushed back his chair and quickly paced up and down the small conference room. Hanging his head, he thrusted his hands into his dark grey hair. Juno sat perfectly still, eyeing the other Android closely. Hatchet’s pace slowed. Begrudgely, Benj reached down to rub his aching leg. Sheepishly, he sat down.

“I want to apologize for my behavior. That was inappropriate. You’re right. I am not … myself. My wife used to say ‘liar, liar pants on fire,’ and tell me to cut the shit. Such provocative bizarre idioms the humans have. I would have just said to myself, ‘Benj you are always too much and yet not enough.’ I’ve had an unusual amount of challenges recently. However I will schedule a full diagnosic shortly,” Hatchet said.

Looking down, Dr. Juno tapped her tablet. The psychiarist read again about Hatchet’s ex-wife Myrtle who just so happened to be his boss, the newly appointed Police Chief of Encedalus. Quickly she scanned the report of the recent murder ar a nearby farm. Dora grimaced at the charred bodies. Next, she looked at a vid of his former spouse and their son from a news report of the Police Chief’s arrival. The boy, who according to Hatchet’s personnel files was adopted at age two, squeezed his lips in a tight forced smile like his mother and hunched his shoulders up by his ears like Det. Hatchet. Dora looked from her tablet to Det. Hatchet back to her tablet. Wordlessly, she tapped on the therapy mirror. The black mirror flicked to a reflection of Det. Hatchet.

For centuries humans had used mirrors to relieve phantom limb pain in amputees. Seeing their “lost limb,” a reflection of their remaining limb in a simple mirror, effectively rewired human brains to accept their loss arm or leg. A few therapy sessions of concentrating on their “lost limb” in a mirror stopped the mysterious pains that plagued some amputees. In Androids trauma or strong negative emotion could lead to aphantom self syndrome, a disassociation from their bodies, a loss of the self. Left untreated Androids would continue to deny their bodies recharging time; neglect basic hygiene; negate the need for necessary maintenance until evental systemic body failure and/or mental bypass loop. Juno considered what an interest case study Hatchet’s breakdown would make and the devastating effect it would have on his former spouse and their child.

“Cut the shit, Hatch. Each person, meat or metal, is a thread in the tapestry of community. Your diminishment would burn a hole in the world. Put out that fire for your family.”

Uncomfortable with her rising anger, Dora stood up laft the room. Stunned Benj looked at the closed door. He turned to face the mirror. He was already looking at himself. His hair was wild. His eyes looked hollow. Hatch looked at a man who had failed in every aspect of his life, blamed for what he did and blamed for what he didn’t do. He looked into the fumbling incompentence father, husband, cop. Knowing he only excelled at was letting people down especially himself. His reflection sneered and Benj recoiled.

“I know you’re watching me,” his reflectiion said. “I’m waiting.”