Stanley startled awake in an unfamiliar place, entire body on edge. As his eyes adjusted and he took stock of his surroundings, he realized he was standing in the middle of a room with a solitary light hovering from some unimaginably high ceiling. Was he standing? Why was he standing? How had he been standing in his sleep? Had he even…slept?

Stanley looked around warily, trying to understand how he had arrived here, but nothing in his immediate memories could explain his current situation. What was going on? The room looked like it was surrounded by … doorways?

Then Stanley paused, squinting at the doorways. Not doorways. Mirrors. Mirrors? He swung back to look at the other shimmering entrances that surrounded him.

They were all glass walls, darkly opaque. None of them had his reflection…except…Stanley swung back to the mirror again. It was a mirror. Right?

Stanley took a few steps forward, and so did his reflection. He raised his arm, and the reflection did as well.

A mirror. Stanley sighed, leaning his hand against it and watching his reflection touch hands with him. It was a mirror. Just a mirror. Nothing more, nothing less.

And then his reflection smiled.

Stanley leaped back several feet, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he immediately raised his arms defensively. But his reflection stayed where it had been, smiling at him, its hand still pressed where Stanley’s hand had been. That smile that looked so much like his own. The way the left cheek stretched a bit further back to pull the lips thinly, yet the lips were closed and showed no teeth. He had seen that smile many times.

Crouching low instinctively, Stanley’s eyes darted around the room at the other “mirrors” while keeping his rogue reflection within his line of sight. Backing up slowly, he quickly looked around to confirm that there was no reflection on the mirror to his back before pausing. He didn’t want to touch another mirror again.

Stanley looked forward again at his smiling reflection. Wondering if he was the unfortunate recipient of a practical joke, Stanley decided to stand up. But he wasn’t ready to approach.

“Who are you?” Stanley asked his doppelganger. “Who sent you here? If this is some sort of elaborate joke –“

“I’m you.” Replied the doppelganger, still smiling. That smile. That thin, dangerous smile. Stanley was unnerved.

“No you aren’t. I am me. I’m me. There’s no way you can be me. This is some sort of joke, isn’t it?” Stanley immediately repeated himself, trying to take control of the situation. “You’re someone paid to dress and look like me and…how did I get here? Did you drug me? What is going on?”

“A shame. It doesn’t seem like you remember anything even after coming back here…” his doppelganger murmured to himself, stroking his chin. Stanley was disturbed at the reminder of his habit when contemplating something. It felt like watching a recent video of himself. Was this done through the technology created recently, able to mimic the looks of anyone?

Then Stanley’s eyes narrowed. “Remember? Remember what?” Stanley asked, shuffling his feet and glancing around at the other mirrors to make sure nobody was hiding there either. “How about you and your friends come out and stop this nonsense?”

“….you may not remember,” began his doppelganger, “but your designation is…was…is? Is. One thousand two hundred forty six. And I am designation one thousand two hundred forty seven.”

“What? What is all this?” yelled Stanley. “One thousand…what?!”

“1246. Always amazes me that we can forget the designation we were born with since the beginning. And to answer your question, 1246…” explained the doppelganger, “To put it simply, you are the one thousand two hundred and forty sixth iteration of our shared consciousness. And I would appreciate it very much if you would just die already.”

Stanley fought the urge to take another step back, every muscle in his body tense. He still did not want to touch the mirror directly behind him. His mind was moving swiftly, trying to process the information that he just heard. What does that mean at all? One thousand something something? One two four six?

His doppelganger’s unsettling smile widened.

“I’ve watched everything with you, 1246, specifically since the beginning, all the way until it became your turn two weeks ago. Since birth, when designation number one chose to become strangled in the womb and our pattern of replacing each other upon death began. Who knew that despite being my high designation I still get a chance to experience our golden years? But the fact that it’s my turn means I should start doing things differently, I hope, than you previous designations have been. Because that averages out to about forty two deaths a year, and I would like to be the last.”

And then his doppelganger pounded at the glass wall that separated it and Stanley, causing Stanley to flinch. But that smile. That unsettling smile. It widened, and designation one thousand two hundred and forty seven’s eyes stared hungrily at Stanley.

“You almost died yesterday, you know. Drinking and doing drugs, as usual. Despite when you were with us, waiting for your turn, swearing that you would be different. And yet you forgot your resolve almost immediately after making it and replacing the previous iteration. You lasted what, half a day?”

Stanley’s head began to pound as his memories began dredging up from the recesses of his mind. This sounded familiar. Two weeks ago, was it? He had woke up from a drunken stupor and resolved to change. Make a change. Then that night he…

“Just like the previous iterations, Stanley. But don’t blame them. Blame yourself. Just like I won’t blame you. I intend to do better, you see,” 1247 explained cordially, smiling at Stanley with the smile that did not fully extend to his eyes, “It’ll be a shame you won’t be here to watch it when you die.”

Stanley staggered on his feet, his head swirling, a blinding light pounding behind his eyes. The memories flooded in. He had been the one trapped behind that glass wall. He had been the one impatiently waiting for his turn to take over. He had…

“You won’t remember, of course. I know I won’t. But I hope I feel the need, the urge to change. You’ll probably wake up and drink and do drugs tonight and go down that path again.” 1247 tilted his head to the side, still smiling at Stanley from behind that glass wall. “I can’t wait.”

Stanley stumbled over to the glass wall on his side, avoiding the sound of his doppelganger. He pounded at it, but it went transparent. And inside, he saw another doppelganger. It also looked at him and smiled knowingly. That smile. That smile again.

Stanley screamed, falling backwards and crawling away as he stared at this second doppelganger. But then as he looked around, the glass walls that had previously been opaque became translucent, revealing each doppelganger that waited patiently behind, eager for his death so they could be the next consciousness that took over.

“I am next, but they are also waiting, Stanley,” 1247 murmured mockingly, gesturing around the room from behind his glass wall. “And we would like to get started before you waste the rest of our youth.”

The light began to drop down, casting Stanley’s shadow ever larger in all directions. Stanley screamed repeatedly as the doppelgangers laughed in his voice, bewildered by their hungry, envious stares. His shadow stretched and touched the glass walls that kept his backup consciousnesses from the sanctuary of his mind, shattering the walls and allowed his doppelgangers to rush onto him even as the light became blinding and –

Stanley woke up in a cold sweat, swiftly pushing away the lit lamp that had fallen onto his face and was burning his skin. He looked around in a panic as the lamp crashed into the left over bottles of alcohol near his couch, sending bottles to the floor and glass shards flying.

“Just die already,” his voice whispered into his own ears.

Stanley looked around. But he was alone on his couch, in his living room. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror that hung over his fireplace and, in that heart-stopping instance, could have sworn that it smiled at him. An unsettling smile, one with pursed lips that did not fully extend to his eyes.

 

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Alternative Ending

He woke up with a pounding head, covered in his own vomit. He stared at it blurry-eyed, then realized that he was smelling it and almost retched again.

What a horrifying dream.

He reached to the side to grab a napkin, but slid off the couch and fell onto the floor, spraying leftover vomit everywhere onto the ground. He groaned on the floor, trying to summon the energy required to get up and clean up after himself. The sun was beginning to shine into his room.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he washed his face and tried to clean himself up, then stared at his decrepit visage in the grimy and dirty mirror.

He was older now. Early thirties, but looked like late fifties. Wait, he had just dreamt about this somehow. Had he? What was the dream about? He couldn’t remember.

Wiping away the grime of the mirror, he stared at his reflection again, trying to recall what he had dreamt about. It seemed important.

And then something compelled him, like a memory pulled from a very important place. It was so important that he whispered it to himself out loud.

“I am….one two four seven.”

Stanley smiled to himself but didn’t know why he was smiling. Was that the number of times he had tried to change? He didn’t know why, but he felt that he should change something about his poor habits.

He looked at his smile again. It was the widest smile he had in a long time. He loved that smile and thought it suited him. Such a great smile.