In their Image

Your name's Wallace. 22 years old. You're a tall and skinny guy, with dark brown wavy hair that often hides part of your eyes. You don't consider yourself handsome, but you don't think you're hideous either. Your main problem would be that you're a massive introvert. You're very shy and prefer to stay quiet in public. Better look mute than stupid. That attitude earned you the nickname of The Wall from your friends and foes. You've been a bit bullied for that in high school but you lived through it.

You're in college for now, though you're not sure for how long. You're not dumb per se, just not the most rigorous. You like to take your time, and since you took a part-time job to pay the bills, your schedule became too tight for you. So right now, you're in a tough spot, battling between pursuing your psychology classes or focusing on work as a receptionist in a small hotel. Your manager, Sarah, told you she could take you full-time if you wanted.

For a month or two, you've missed a lot of school. It's almost like you're a part-timer there too. Your few friends are worried, but the teachers have shown little to no concern for your absence, making you wonder if you ever had any chance at getting that degree.

Today's Monday and you missed school again, you're just too sleepy. The weekend has been hard at the hotel and you just slept through most of the day. You decide to go to the antique store as you often do to check on your best friend Onyx. She greets you with a sideways smile as you enter the boutique.

She's your classmate and also spends a few evenings holding this strange old shop, but her busy days don't seem to affect her as much as you. She always had a stronger and more hardworking personality despite being as antisocial as you are. Her real name is Paulina, but she hates it. She was really into Goth subculture in high school and kept a very dark and alternative look, with a few tattoos and a nose ring. Her naturally black hair is cut into an inverted bob with a few red strands. Her cold dark eyes seem to always pierce your skull, which seems to be enough to repulse most guys' advances, to her delight. You've known her since middle school and she never showed any interest in boys even back then. Girls neither. You've never asked much about it but you've concluded she is asexual. You could have seen yourself with her but your friendship meant too much for you to risk it.

"So what's your excuse this time?" She asked while keeping her eyes on her desk.

"Didn't think of one yet, but it's not like anybody would care…"

"That's where you're wrong. They won't wait until the end of the year to expel you, Wall."

"Well at least I'll be fixed. Making a choice is what's killing me." You reply, as you start to browse the shelves looking for new treasures.

"Wait and see what regrets feel like… but whatevs. I'm not your Mom."

New stuff arrives every Monday, that's why it's your favorite day to come visit Onyx. And today was particularly filled.

"Lots of new goods today, huh?" You try to change the subject.

"Smooth... but yeah. Some old rich guy died recently if I heard it right. There was an auction filled with junk nobody seemed to care for so my boss bought a batch for almost nothing. The family must have been glad to get it out of their hands easily. There's one piece that might interest you by the way."

Onyx knew you recently had a passion for old cameras. You often get the oddest hobbies for a couple of weeks before instantly dropping them. Your interest in photography is already fading, but you still have a decent collection on your hands and you have room for one more cheap model. As you look on the shelf your friend is pointing out however, your interest is sparked. An odd little device is sitting in the dust. You can't tell what model it is and it bothers you. Sure you're no expert, but it has some features that just don't fit with what you know about cameras. For starters, it is small enough to enter your pocket, which would indicate it's not older than the 60s. But its design is very reminiscent of the 20s. Very boxy, with Art Deco patterns carved into the wood. You conclude that it must be recent, with a retro look to it. But as you pick it up, you can tell it's not cheaply made. It's quite heavy and little imperfections seem to hint it is handcrafted. You take a better look at it, turning it in your hands. The front has one big lens, with little more to it. Above is a simple black shutter trigger, with no apparent way to change the focus. The back has a vertical glass screen under the viewfinder, which doesn't make much sense on a mechanical camera, and on its side, one odd white button with a little text written under it. Copy the target with black. Paste on the holder with white. Warning: only one copy at the same time.

"So? What do the experts say?" Says Onyx, interrupting your observations.

"No fucking clue. It's too well made to be a toy, but I can't see any brand or model name anywhere. Can't find anywhere to put the film or batteries. Must be a very well-made prop… maybe for a movie. That's my best guess."

To make your point, you try and take a picture of your friend.

"Hey, don't you da-! Wow." Onyx suddenly changes expression and looks strangely at the lens. You definitely feel a click as you press the button.

"You good?" You ask her.

"Yeah, I just saw a light. I felt like a little spasm at the same time…"

You look at the camera again. Your brain takes some time to register what you're seeing. On the vertical screen, a figure has appeared. It is not the picture you just took of Onyx sitting at her desk showing you a middle finger, but it's definitely her. It looks like a holographic image, showing depth as you rotate the camera. She is standing in her current outfit composed of a black shirt, jean shorts, and black tights, with a blank expression on her face.

"You need to see that right now." You announce her with wide eyes, shoving the camera to her face.

"What the fuck! That's not the picture you took! You can't even see my legs from where you stood."

"Maybe it creates an avatar based on your face… a really well-made one, and the outfit is just the one by default." You try to find a realistic explanation, not really convincing yourself.

"Sure, and I guess the tattoo on my right arm was by default too. See? It's the exact same. And I'm fairly sure you couldn't see it either from your angle, right?" She says, taking the camera and pointing at her picture's arm.

You can't see it in detail so you're not sure it's really the same, but you have to admit it's exactly in the right place.

"That's some crazy advanced technology. It looks so old though. I wonder what the other button does, now…" you think out loud.

Without even hesitation, Onyx, who's still holding the camera, presses it. She makes a weird face for a second, closing her eyes, and opens them, confused.

"It's clearly broken. I felt some weird static shock."

"You really should be more careful with it… you told me a similar thing when I took your photo, right?" You ask with concern.

"No, it was pretty different actually. First one was like a cold shudder. This time it was more like a warm numbness."

"Doesn't sound like static shocks to me…"

"Well try it for yourself, since you're such an expert. Don't worry, it doesn't hurt, I swear."

You hesitate. It's clearly not safe to toy around with unknown technology. On the other hand, what's the worst thing a camera can do? And you have to admit, you're becoming more and more curious…