Alien

[Author's note: Okay, I'm not sure if this is what was exactly what was meant to come through during this scene, and I'm not really all that fond of what I've got, but this is one of my responses to The Truman Show, finally. It's about what the Trumania scene and what I got from it. That's all I can really say on the matter.]

I wake up in the morning, same as always, to my life. The alarm blares at the bedside at the same time as yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, for as long as I can remember. It's all the same as before, but different. I hit the off button on the alarm on the same clock that woke me up so many times before. Only now this is different clock. This clock is a lie. The clock itself is real, but it wakes me up to a fake morning with a fake amount of time to get ready for a fake job in a fake life. This clock is a liar. How many other liars are in my home?

I make my way to the bathroom. I brush my teeth, wash my face, the stuff I usually do in the morning. I know I'm being watched, so what else can I do but play along? I look up at my mirror. A liar like the clock, this one probably complete with a video camera. I stare at it, willing it to break the illusion. Nothing. Fine, I think. If you're going to watch me, I might as well put on a show. I pick up the soap, like a child artist with his sidewalk chalk. I draw a circle on the mirror, right around my reflection's head. A fishbowl? A helmet perhaps? A space suit. I complete the image and draw a little flag.

"I hereby proclaim this planet Trumania, of the Burbank galaxy."

 I look at my refection for a moment. Appropriate. My reflection and I had something in common; we were both stuck in an alien world.

"That one's for free," I say, wiping the soap off the mirror before I turn my back on the camera and leave.