In the lounge outside the men's room, Mr. Ling checked his vicinity. He was alone, and it was quiet, because Amarillo base was an outpost in the middle of hell. A horribly radioactive cloud in the middle of a penitentiary system. For the first time in a while, he took off his sunglasses, and took a good, hard look in the mirror. The man in the mirror looked back. An amber eye and a purple implant stared back.
His hair was more gray than black now, and he had a few wrinkles from the smile he constantly forced. "Uuuaah, you ugly bastard. Forty-three years ain't done nothin' kind to you, has it?"
He took a deep breath. He sure didn't feel old, but maybe that was just the Cardamine. "Gettin old. Old and sad. You think any of them can see through that signature smile of yours?... Naaaaah."
Mr. Ling put his sunglasses back on and quickly combed his hair. Someday, he was gonna have to change his image. Until then? He put his smile back on, too. As smooth as ever. "One bad day. That's all it takes. One bad day, buddy."
Talking into the mirror wasn't that bad. There are worse kinds of insanity to have. And as long as the mirror never answers him, he was fine enough to keep it that way.
