Remain Visible

A mother held her infant to face a mirror and a camera. The baby laughed at her reflection. "Pass." A male voice said through a speaker. Then a flash filled the room. The baby cried, bothered by the light.

The mother glanced at the mirror, while she pulled her daughter closer. "Shhh." She soothed. "You're a pretty girl, Marianne, and pretty girls don't cry, just smile."

Marianne entered the room again at six-years old. Grass stains touched her lace skirt, and tangled hair fell on her cheeks. "Fail." The male voice said. No flash filled the room.

Outside, Marianne's mom waited. When her daughter come out, she ran up and hugged her. "Was your picture taken, sweetie?" The girl shook her head. Her mother sighed. "You shouldn't have been climbing trees earlier. Remain visible to them."

Marianne never knew who "they" were. However, "they" captured her imagination. Were they the characters of her favorite books and movies? Her young-self smiled at this thought, but as Marianne neared her teens, she grew out of childish fantasies. As Marianne neared sixteen, she was brought to the viewing room.

The mirror reflected her teenage body. Her breasts had grown and her hips were widening; however, her body still clung to the small frame of a child. "Pass." The male automated voice said. And a light filled the room.

As Marianne exited the room, she flashed a smile. She felt validated. A new fantasy of her audience started to form. She thought of a boy her age, Billy, and she blushed at the thought. Maybe it was guys like him who she performed for. She straightened her posture, pleased at the thought.

The next time that Marianne entered the chamber, she was twenty-four and more cynical of men. She had replaced the image of "them" from handsome boys her age to twisted men whose eyes strayed from their wives and partners. She walked up to the mirror. "Fail." The automated voice said. No flash filled the room. Marianne sighed as she left the room. She knew the few extra pounds she had gained were noticed.

By the time Marianne was fifty-five, she no longer cared about who "they" were. Age took away her visibility, but she still strove to be seen. She used various cremes on her skin to promote a youthful glow. She took to repetitive running on the treadmill. "Pass." The automated male voice said, and a flash filled the room. Marianne smiled. She knew she looked good for a woman her age.

At eighty-four, Marianne limped into the room. Her joints stiffened with each step. Her reflection showed an old woman. Her stature hunched, she saw the wrinklesthe cremes could not fix. "Fail." The automated male voice said. Marianne sighed and hobbled out of the room. With wisdom and age, she now figured out who "they" were. In regret, she hung her head. "They" were other women, and the flash captured the image they were to fill.