The Magic Mirror

by Michael Gemignani

But what had happened to cause such a change?

  David came over and put his hand on Robin=s shoulder. ACome in, Robin. We=ll help you if we can. But you must first return the mirror and tell us what happened.@

  Robin gave David the mirror. We walked Robin over to a chair and invited him to sit. AYes, Robin,@ I said gently, Atell us what happened.@

  And Robin began his story.

  Robin=s Story

  AI don=t know whether to thank you or curse you for letting me borrow the mirror. The mirror does all you said it does, and more. But I should begin with what happened after I took the mirror home.

  AYou told me that the mirror would let me see the future. You know how excited I was, for if it was true that the mirror could tell me the future, it could make me the wealthiest man on earth. I would be able to see which companies would succeed and which would fail. I would have information about new products before they were announced. There would be no limits to the ways in which I could use the mirror to make me richer than my wildest dreams.

  AI was willing to pay you anything you asked if the mirror allowed me to see the future. I could have made you immensely wealthy too.

  AI sat in my den gazing into the mirror, wondering how I might test it. After all, I don=t know the future, so how would I be able to decide whether the mirror was telling me the truth. And, even if the mirror was telling the truth at that moment, how did I know whether something might yet happen to change the future, something of which the mirror was unaware?

  ABut as I gazed into the mirror, I assumed that the future could never change . . . but that is why I am here now. I want the future to change, and you must help me. If the mirror tells the truth and the future cannot change, I am doomed.

  ABefore I asked the mirror about some of the stocks I was interested in, I inquired about my own future at the bank. To my surprise, the mirror did not display an image. Instead, I felt myself drawn into the mirror. I was no longer looking into the mirror. I was inside the mirror.

  I found myself in a room that I did not recognize.

  AOnce I had an opportunity to observe my surroundings, I realized that I was in a courtroom. I was sitting in a chair at a table across from the witness stand, and there was a woman sitting beside me who I assumed was my attorney. The spectator gallery was filled. The judge, clad in his black robe, was seated on a dais above me. He looked down at me sternly as he rapped his gavel.

  A>Counselor,= the judge asked my attorney, Aare you ready to proceed?=

  A>I am, your honor.=

  A>Is the prosecution ready to proceed?=

  AA man rose at a table to the left of where my attorney at I were seated. >We are, your honor.=

  AThe judge rapped his gavel twice. >The trial of Robin Marshall for grand theft, fraud, and capital murder may begin. The prosecution may make its opening statement to the jury.=

  AI sat dumbfounded. I was on trial for crimes I was sure I had never committed. I turned to look at the spectators. The eyes of many of them met my eyes, and I could sense the hatred and contempt that they felt for me. But why? What had I done to them?

  AThe prosecutor stood before the jury. I listened as he set out a tale of greed and betrayal. He said that I had stolen investors= money and used it to pay for a lavish lifestyle. I had wasted the life savings of many who had trusted me. I had even driven two elderly men to suicide because I had cheated them out of all that they had to live on. And when one of my co-workers threatened to reveal my activity to the police, I hired someone to kill him.

  ABut it was not true. I had never cheated anyone. I was not a thief or a murderer. I helped people plan for their retirement and put their money to work for them. The fees I had earned, the profits that I had made with my own investments, all these were earned honestly.

  AThe prosecutor finished his remarks and my own attorney rose to speak. She told the jury that, although I had made mistakes, they were honest mistakes and were neither fraud nor theft. Moreover, I had not had anyone killed. The co-worker committed suicide when he realized that the bank we worked for was failing.

  AWitnesses were called. Most of them were people I had worked with. I thought they were my friends, but now they were accusing me of dishonesty, of stealing clients and money from them, of promising investors a greater return than was reasonable so their clients would give their business to me. Why were these, my former colleagues, telling these lies about me?

  AAs testimony proceeded, I realized what had happened. The bank had invested poorly and lost a huge amount of money, money that belonged to investors who had trusted the bank to manage their accounts. The bank was failing and the management realized that they would be blamed. The bank=s clients would sue them for the losses because of the bank=s disastrous investment decisions.

  AA scapegoat was needed. It would be easier to explain that a rogue junior trader had embezzled huge amounts of money, so much money that it forced the bank to go under. I would take the blame for the huge losses so that those above me could deny responsibility. The anger of those who had lost their savings, their retirement accounts, the money they were depending on for their old age, would fall on me. I was to be sacrificed to save my superiors.

  AThe evidence against me was convincing. Those who had caused the losses were easily able to create records that pointed the finger at me. I suspected that they even had my co-worker murdered in order to cast me not only as a thief but a killer as well. No doubt, they reasoned, that it is better that a junior executive go down than that they should suffer. They, after all, were the masters of the universe. And they were, I am ashamed to admit, what I wanted to become. I wanted to join them, to be one of them.

  AAnd if I had succeeded, I may well have plotted along with them to destroy someone else, to cast the burden of my own failings on another so I could go free.

  AAnd what was it that corrupted them, that brought them to accuse an innocent man to conceal their own guilt? It was wealth. It was nothing other than the very thing that I had made my own god. They were willing to steal what I had B not just my money but my reputation and my future as well B that they might keep what they themselves had stolen.

  AMy lawyer did the best she could to make the case for my innocence against the overwhelming evidence against me. She argued that the charges against me were fabricated to protect those who were the real criminals. She claimed that I was just a pawn in a vast conspiracy. But, alas, she could produce no witnesses to back up her claims.

  AI felt humiliated that I, who had been so puffed-up with my own importance, was being portrayed as a pawn, a nobody, who was framed to take the rap for those who really counted, those I had admired and now detested. And I detested myself for wanting to become one of them. Would I have been able to do what they did? As much as I wanted money, I had never betrayed anyone. I had always told the truth and kept my promises. And for what?

  AThe charges of theft and fraud were serious enough, but if I were found guilty of murder, I might sentenced to death. The evidence against me was false, but it was overwhelming.

  AThe lawyers made their closing arguments. The prosecutor said terrible things about me. I felt like shouting that he was a liar, but I was mute. I could not stand, or shout, or do anything but observe the hideous spectacle in which I played the central role. Yes, I was only an observer, an observer of my own destruction. I wanted to cry, but tears failed me. I wanted to flee, but I could not move.

  AI knew when the jury returned that they had found me guilty on all counts. Some jurors sneered at me; one seemed to look on me with pity. Terrible deeds had been done, and someone had to pay for them. I was that someone.

  AAfter the jury found me guilty, the judge rapped his gavel and announced that he would sentence me in two weeks. Two policeman came forward to lead me away.

  AIt was then that I found myself back in my den, mirror in hand, staring now only at my own reflection. I
think I must have fainted because it was hours later that I became conscious again of where I was.

  AWithout undressing, I threw myself on my bed and tried to sleep away the nightmare I had just experienced. It was after ten, the time at which I was to meet you, that awoke from a fitful sleep. I found you, of course, by asking the mirror where you were, and it showed me getting out of my car in front of your motel room.

  AAnd here I am. I=m still wearing the clothes I wore yesterday. Pardon my appearance. Pardon the way I=ve behaved toward you. Help me, if you can. You are the ones who gave me the mirror. Can you undo the future? Must I suffer what the mirror predicts for me? Please help me now, I beg you.@

  Robin=s Question

  David and I could not help but pity the unkempt figure who once looked down on us, but who now begged for our help. No doubt he had driven to the motel in an expensive car that, had I looked, I would have found right outside the door to our humble motel room. No doubt, too, he still had a great amount of money. But his money could not help him now.

  But could David and I help Robin? He had looked into the mirror and the mirror had shown him what was to be. Those whom he trusted and looked up to, those whose golden circle he wanted to join, were going to betray him. They were willing to offer Robin=s life in order to safeguard their own. Robin was but a mere pawn to be sacrificed so that, ultimately, they could stay in the game.

  How important Robin had deemed himself to be. How much he loved the life that money had enabled him to live. He had played the game well, but he had not realized that there were those who knew how to play the game even more skillfully to whom Robin was just a means to their own ends.

  ACan you help me?@ Robin pleaded.

  David and I looked at one another. The mirror had shown Robin the future. After a pause, I answered, ARobin, you are asking us if we can change what the mirror has shown you. What the mirror has shown you is the future, your future.

  AEach time the mirror has shown us an event, that event took place. We have never had the mirror lie to us. You=re asking us if we can change the future. I don=t know the answer to that question.@

  ASo the future is absolutely determined?@ Robin asked. AThere=s nothing you or I can do to change it? If I went back to my parents, I wouldn=t be here for them to frame, would I? They would have to find someone else to blame for their mistakes and crimes. It wouldn=t be me anymore, but someone else.

  AOr even better, if they couldn=t find someone else to sacrifice in my place, then they would have to take the blame themselves. That would be wonderful, wouldn=t it? No Robin, no one to blame. They would all go to jail instead of me.@

  AIf you could change the future, Robin,@ I asked, Ahow would you change it? Do you really want to go back to your parents?@

  Robin thought for a moment. ATo be honest, I=m not sure. I was enjoying the life I had, working hard and making lots of money. I felt good when I could go into Chez Louis and be recognized, even having a table set aside just for me. I guess I really want that life back.@

  ABut if you did go back,@ I responded, Athen the future would be as the mirror projected it. If you want to change the future, you have to change yourself.

  AI=m sure you have more money now than you=ll ever need in your lifetime. What good would it do you anyway to make even more? You could use some of your money to help your parents in their final years. Spending it for others would make you feel better about yourself than having a table at Chez Louis.@

  AYou tell me that,@ Robin answered, a hint of annoyance in his voice, Abut I have a hard time believing it. Making money gave my life meaning. It was making money that drove me.