Today was a date with him.
They had met a few times, yet she still felt the thrill of seeing him. She adored his photogenic face, sharp features, wide eyes, textured hairstyle, and signature fashion sense. The dating app numbers agreed. "His desirability ranking remains in the top 5%." A data point. A fact. A quiet confirmation of what she already knew.
She stood before her smart mirror.
"Good morning," it chimed.
"Analyzing face."
A pink AI avatar blinked seductively in the corner of the mirror as graphs and charts flickered to life, filling the screen and masking her image from her. She tapped through them.
"Overall Assessment: Low energy. Low glow. Beauty levels below average."
The pink avatar pouted sympathetically.
Her excitement faded. She stepped into the shower, hoping to feel better. After dressing up and applying makeup, she returned to the mirror.
It scanned again. Charts, trends, and data flooded the screen in perfectly curated colors and fonts. Ads for face revitalization popped up, comparative analysis flashed in, filling the mirror screen—eclipsing her reflection, disconnecting her.
A message appeared:
"Today marks your lowest beauty and energy levels this month," the pink avatar whispered in a concerned tone.
She hesitated, then grabbed her phone.
"Cancel today's date. Let's meet another day."
She hit send.
Sighing, she walked into her gaming room.
"Welcome," her gaming system chirped, switching on automatically.
She logged in under her anonymous game ID: PhantomGamer.
Across the city, his phone buzzed.
"Cancel today's date. Let's meet another day."
He exhaled, disappointment settling in. Without thinking, he reacted with a sad emoji.
Then, another notification popped up.
PhantomGamer is online.
Excitement flickered in his eyes. The moment of disappointment dissolved. Smiling slightly, he switched on his gaming console and logged in anonymously.
SomeRandomGamer is now online.
"Hi, PhantomGamer." He typed.
She smiled at the screen.
"Hi, SomeRandomGamer." She replied.
Her smart mirror flickered, its glow dimming.
Then—blackout. The screen died. The dead dark mirror stood in silence.
In her game room, she leaned back, focused on the screen.
"Good thing I canceled the date," she thought. In his game room, sitting on his game couch "Good thing she canceled the date." He too thought.
Just before the mirror screen went dead and dark, a message flashed for a split second—then vanished,
Lost