Non scholæ sed vitæ discimus

Prof. Rivers was giving an astronomy lecture in front of a nigh-empty auditorium. It was late enough in the semester that most students gave up pretending to care, and to soon for exams, which would make them suddenly start to care.

He didn't mind them being away. It meant that the studious few left visiting his lectures actually listened, and when they asked questions, they showed true interest and curiosity. Prof. Rivers was a man that lived his profession. He was not really keen of the overall academia. He taught because he was an astronomer at his heart, and he enjoyed to spread the fascination. All things considered, he wasn't perhaps everyone's favourite lecturer, and by far not the most lenient one, but a good one nonetheless. There was no question he couldn't answer, no experience he didn't share with those just willing to listen for once.

This time, he was teaching the fundamentals of telescopy, as basis for their studies in interferometry latter on. He just finished drawing a diagram of a Ritchey–Chrétien reflector telescope onto one of the green chalk boards. They were mounted between vertical tracks, so he just pushed upwards the foremost for his students to get a clean view on.

"As we will see, virtually all telescope designs, from the earlier optical ones to the modern massive radar arrays are in their essence based on mirrors focusing waves better than even a perfect lens ever could. Not that creating perfect lenses past a certain size would be economically feasible anyway. Compare the price of tinfoil with that of medical glasses."

Rivers turned around to his class. The only person in the first row was a blonde young mother, he was always surprised she could make it to all his lectures. The second row was empty, the third row featured a curious redhead sitting right in the middle, studiously scribbling notes down his notebook. The density of students increased in the upper rows, with many students starring at their tablets or making photos of his sketch. The last row was as always only occupied by that pry, but admittedly clever emo-kid.

"Talking about radio arrays, I want to remind each of you that the fine mesh in your microwave's window is, in fact, a mirror for microwaves. This should be an easy conceptualization to mirrors permeable to some wavelengths and not other, which has immediately apparent uses for selective filtering, too.
But if all of modern telescopy is based on mirrors, this is just begging the question if our assumptions aren't fundamentally flawed."

He waited for everyone to finish writing so they could focus on his next question.

"Now, can you trust a mirror?"

The audience fell into the cautious silence that usually follows up on the seemingly innocuous questions that secretly make undergraduates deeply insecure.

The skinny ginger boy in the third row raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Lawrence?"

"Uh… mirrors swap left and right - or rather back and front. And non-planar ones distorts the image, too, and… no mirror is perfectly reflecting all wavelengths."

The young man was visibly unsure about the answer he just gave, but Rivers had to acknowledge his quick thinking and courage to speak out in front of the others.

"The answer is very much no. Mirrors lie, they deceive and delude, they create mirages and play tricks. As you have correctly mentioned, Mr. Lawrence, they are physically unable to depict reality.
Mirrors are like people, fundamentally unable to depict the objective reality. Just as every person you you meet will have different views on you, every mirror will reflect you differently.
A wise man once said that reality is what doesn't go away if you stop thinking about it. Now, if you subscribe to the idea of an objective reality, you must accept that it is outnumbered to the mathematically extreme by simulacra of which even the best can only be facsimiles of the real deal. There are more reflections than things being reflected, so to speak.
But."

He made a dramatic pause, barely hiding his smirk.

"But just as with people, if you know them, you can reconstruct what they've seen from their flawed accounts. Once you know in which way they skew you, you can extrapolate - within an margin of error, of course - what's really happening.
Remember, astronomers aren't doing live science, we're forensic examiners of a million-years cold case."

This was one of the lines sure to sink into young minds, changing their perception for the years to come. As every great line ever used by lecturers, he shamelessly reused it every semester.

"So it is about time you learn about the Mirror Men, a sadly neglected aspect of optics.
As already established, there are by many orders of magnitude more reflections of reality than there are real worlds. This means for everyone in this room, there are zillions of reflected doppelgängers, each different. Some only impalpably different, others… well, you all should know how the very same person can be the greatest hero to some people and monstrous nightmare to others. And that is only limited human perception, covering only an infinitesimal of what is possible.
Ipso facto, it is for any given individual more likely to exist inside a fake world then inside the real deal - if you are familiar with Niklas Boström et al.'s work, the metaphysical basis of this assumption shouldn't be new. Let these self-aware individuals be called Mirror Men."

The students looked bewildered at him. They seemed able to follow him, but were visibly weirded out by the turn this tangent took.

"We can deduce that should it be possible to invent a way to travel between mirror worlds or outside of them, any individual to make such an invention is statistically more likely to live within such a world, ergo the ratio between mirror-travelling people and mirror-travelling Mirror Men should roughly equal the ratio between people and Mirror Men."

The emo in the back row raised his hand.

"Is this a joke?"

"No, not at all, Mr. Ruan. The aspect of Mirror Men is one crucial to the understanding of the objective reality as it truly is. One can not simply disregard this factor in serious observation of the cosmos."

A girl sitting to the leftmost wall sighted wearily and packed up her possessions to leave the lecture hall.

Rivers wasn't impressed.

"Anyone else who wants to leave?
No?
Good. Now I should probably mention that in practice, only people - or other non-human entities, for that matter - that originate from another mirror world are considered Mirror Men, to ease discussion of that topic.
Incidentally, the current number of Mirror Men on earth is estimated to number not more than one thousand, which gives estimates from a one-in-ten-billion to a one-in-a-trillion chance that any one person will learn how to transcend through mirrors."

Now the redhead raised his hand.

"Why can't they just tell us or another how to do it?"

"Language is a fickle thing. Do you know that in higher mathematics, there exist transfinite proofs that certain solutions or limits to some problems must exist, but using formal set theory it can also be proven that any method to calculate them is exceeding the arithmetic capabilities of any human or even a galaxy-sized super computer?
It is believed that the mental processes involved in transcending mirror worlds are in a similar fashion to complex to describe them. This leads to the conclusion that the actual process is an instinctual, sub-conscious behaviour that can not be learned, but only triggered if present.
However, this could all just be a ruse. Human-Mirror Men interactions have be scarce throughout history, at least those in which both parties survived the encounter. Perhaps they're just fond of keeping how they do it a secret."

"And what do these Mirror Men want? Why are they hostile?"

The emo kid again.

"Oh, that's a very interesting questions. Sadly, I don't know. Nobody knows. Probably not even they themselves.
Always keep in mind that they might be horrible distorted, deformed and defaced, but they all are based on ordinary humans. What do people really want?
They are escapees and fugitives. Some of the are the most atrocious villains you can imagine, others are virtuous paragons, but they all are just strange wanderers.
Seriously, nobody knows what each one is up to. Going on a murder spree, curing cancer, getting a job in accounting and retiring from burnout in their fourties… your guess is as good as mine."

Rivers hinted at a shrug. Ruan didn't looked satisfied by this answer.

"Each one is an isolated phenomena, so every one must be treated separately.
And just like real people, they don't really work together well. There are rumours about a secret cabal of their strongest and mightiest scheming in the reflections, yet I wouldn't overestimate their conspiracy.
And about their hostility… usually - but not always - figuring out how to transcend a mirror requires a minimum of intelligence required to notice the nature of one's reality, and the will to do something about it.
What would you do upon learning everything you ever believed in is nothing but inconsequential projection of a higher reality? It can be safely assumed that this is a traumatic realization, one that only particularly valiant or nasty personalities withstand unscathed.
This leaves us with the conclusion that most Mirror men are either spiteful psychopaths, completely deranged and crazy or of unbreakable spirit, with two, arguably all of those traits resulting in uncongenial behaviour that should be treated with a healthy dose of suspicion."

He paused after answering, waiting for other questions. The class didn't seemed like they were convinced by what he was telling them. Hesitantly, the boy in the third row came to break the awkward silence.

"So… how does one kill a Mirror Man?"

"Now that's the spirit, Mr. Lawrence.
In general, a Mirror Man has humanoid characteristics, therefore, shooting them is a good start. Of course, each variant will react differently to physical harm - some are so frail they die from minimum injury, whereas others can resist immense force without any injury whatsoever. Fighting the latter type is like a Road Runner cartoon - you roll them over with an armoured car and they just get back up again and dust themselves down. So if that doesn't works, just haul out something with even more oomph. Eventually, you can get them all through attrition.
However, the strikingly more elegant way to rid yourself of such a trouble would be shattering their mirror. Even if they left it, they are ontologically bound to - once it ceases to exist, they will instantly follow suit. Now, this is sadly not as easy as it sounds. Those who are smart enough to figure out how to leave their mirror will most likely know of their weakness and make sure to hide it away as safely as possible. Not to mention that you can never know where exactly they originate from. Finding a single sequin on the other side of the equator is no cakewalk, I assure you."

Another raised hand, by the blonde girl in the first row.

"Are there also female Mirror Men?"

"To answer your question, Ms. Porter, yes there are.
The name Mirror Man actually has a very interesting etymology. When they were first described in western scientific history by Sophie Thott Lange - better known as Sophia Brahe - in 1630, she used the term Spejlmennesker… let me spell it out."

As Rivers walked up to the black board in order write the word, he heard a loud cracking behind him, accompanied by a gargling roar.

"Don't tell them about meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

So it finally arrived. But Rivers came prepared for this.

Turning around, he yanked open the outer drawer of his desk and pulled out the M1014 semi-automatic shotgun from inside, couched it and aimed for the source of the noise in one hasty but fluent motion.

A tall, deformed brute was rushing down the stairs of the lecture hall. It was humanoid, but only in the sense a gorilla is. A pale monstrosity, its bald skull, the nose only a hole over a widely open, unhinged jaw, bobbing on a much too long neck. Its sick, perpetual grin seemed to reach from one nodose ear to the other and was accentuated by an insane expression in the bloodthirsty eyes.

The brawny abomination appeared to be wearing a black business suit, grotesquely stretched by the creature's sinewy physique. Massive spiny vertebrae pierced through its back, like a stegosaurus' plates. It wore a deep red tie - no, after a second glance, he could make it out to be the beasts thrashing tongue.

He fired the first round, a direct hin into the monster's chest. Black gooey chunks sprayed in all direction, but it barely even stumbled in its rush to get down the stairs. Somebody screamed, but he paid no attention to it.

Rivers fired a second and a third shell, both tearing holes into its farcical attire and blasting off shreds of meat. It leaped down the last steps and landed on the parquet floor, darting at him from his right. He readjusted his aim and readied himself for a fourth shot, but it closed in to fast. A left backhand smack of the creature threw off the shot to scatter into the ceiling, send his gun flying out of his grip. The heavy combat shotgun being knocked out of his hands felt like somebody tried to jerk out his arms.

Rivers reeled from the force of the strike, and decided to use that momentum for a roll. He followed with a quick roll to his right. Not a perfect one, he badly landed on his shoulder and sensed a searing pain aching through his scapula.

The moment he went back on his feet, he grabbed for the fire-extinguisher he landed next to. With a single hurl, he launched it at the growling brute struggling to follow his quick dive. It was a lucky hit, directly below the knee. Anything human would have flinched from the pain of such a blow, and even the savage beast staggered for a moment from the sheer power of the throw.

It was enough time for Rivers to dash to the black board and grab a metal squeegee with his left. Not his strong arm, but he held it like a tonfa and could spin around just in time blocked a sweeping blow by the creature's clawed hand with it. Using the brief opening in its defence, he rammed the bar into the monster's skull, producing a satisfying crushing sound.

The slimy tongue whipped forward against his wrist, making him drop the squeegee before he could follow up with a second thwack. It tried to tangle around his arm, but he exploited that opportunity by clasping the wiry organ. The many pupils of its eyes widened in unison as he pulled with all his weight.

Loud alarm klaxons began to shrill as the furious attacker stumbled a few steps forwards. The savage was already regain balance and taking swings at Rivers.

Rivers sidestepped a first punch, but got violently kicked against the black board by the other fist following up on the first. His back hurt like hell, but his foe was already charging at him, ready to pummel him against the board. Half pushing off, half dragging along the black board, he got himself to move away just in time to have heavy body of the creature crash against the board where he just was.

With incredible presence of mind, Rivers reached for the other black board over him and pulled it down with all his strength, hunkering away as it slammed down like a guillotine. With a breaking sound, the monster's head got stuck between the two boards.

"Iiiiiiiiiiyaaaah!"

Lawrence came running at them with a high-pitched scream, wielding a fire axe. He hacked at it, embedding the axe in the brute's burly nape. Rivers pushed him ruggedly to the side, reaching for the axe's handle. He got it and positioned himself.

And with a single arc motion, worthy of a the best Viking berserker, he swung it forward, slashing through the neck with a single cut. Blood, black as ink gushed from the stump as the twitching body collapsed to the ground, head still stuck between both black boards.

Rivers took a short pause to catch his breath, then turned to Lawrence. The alarm noises were still ringing through the room.

"Thanks, boy. Excellent instincts. Even though it didn't blindside me this wasn't too easy. Can't think of what I would've done without your timely reaction."

The young man's glance jumped between him and the dead body in front of him. He was visibly trying to keep his cool.

"Is… is this a Mirror Man?"

"Yes. A lowling one, I'm afraid. Only brawns, no brains."
"Anyway, I think I've got something for you."

Rivers limped back to his desk and rummaged through the still open drawer until he found a small bottle with pills and tossed it over to Lawrence, who caught in out the air, somewhat perplexed.

"Take half a dozen. This should help you when the suits with the amnestics show up in a couple minutes. And always remember, Mr. Lawrence - The Chaos Insurgency always has a place for an attentive young man. This world could use more people like you."

"How will I find them?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. You won't find the Insurgency, it will find you.
I, however have to go into hiding for some time. If this grunt could find me, they can find me too. Until we meet again, Recruit Lawrence."

Rivers walked over to where his shotgun landed and picked it up. Shouldering it, he glanced over the seats.

Two students apparently were in schock-induced stupor, one girl was sobbing uncontrollably, a couple others were hiding under their desks. Most of them probably fled the lecture hall in panic. Nobody looking like they required medical attention though.

"Class dismissed."

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