Member-only story
SHORT FICTION HORROR
A Symphony of Reflection
It started as an odd coincidence. During a weekly all-hands Zoom meeting, I adjusted my glasses, and seconds later, so did James from accounting. βFunny timing,β I thought. But then it happened again β I leaned forward to unmute myself, and three other attendees did the exact same thing, as though we were marionettes on invisible strings.
At first, I chalked it up to the awkward synchronization of a virtual workspace. But week by week, the pattern grew impossible to ignore. If I tilted my head, four of them mirrored it. When I yawned, a cascade of yawns rippled across the grid of faces. They seemed oblivious, their eyes glassy and distant, as if they werenβt aware of what they were doing. I started experimenting. During one meeting, I scratched my nose. Seven coworkers followed, each motion identical, mechanical. My unease grew, but I didnβt say anything. What could I even say?
The final straw came during a late-night project call. Exhausted, I slumped back in my chair and ran my hand through my hair. My entire team, pixelated in their little squares, did the same. All at once. Their heads tilted at the same unnatural angle, their hands moving in perfect unison. My heart raced as their faces froze, their eyes locking onto me, unblinking.
