Have you ever stopped to catch a glimpse of yourself in a store window? Maybe crank the rearview mirror of your car for a quick peek? It’s a fascinating piece of technology, a mirror: a silver coating applied to a piece of glass that allows a person to gaze upon themselves as others see them. Almost. I mean it is reversed. Oh, and highly subject to the vagaries of self-perception. Close enough though, right?
Behind Door number 6 we’ll reflect on reflections.
December 6, 2025
Reflections and mirrors have played leading roles in literature for millennia. Ovid’s The Metamorphoses tells the story of Narcissus, a handsome lad who fell in love with his own reflection in a pool of water. Not having learned her lesson down the rabbit hole, Alice steps through the looking glass and into yet another world where normal rules do not apply. Unlike Narcissus who, literally becomes rooted to the spot, Alice can earn her way home by solving puzzles. This got me thinking. What if we replaced the mirror in these tales with a smartphone? Was Narcissus the first influencer? Did Alice have a gaming addiction?
I remember when computer manufacturers promised tasks would be completed faster giving us more free time. Instead, they made it possible to do more work in the same amount of time and from anywhere; didn’t see that coming. I also remember when cell phones were purported to free us from the corded ball and chain of the home and office telephone. By that time, we really should’ve been able to predict that they would end privacy as we knew it. Now the ball and chain are invisible. We mindlessly obey all the notifications and mistake it for freedom. If you were really lucky when you got your smartphone, they also gave you a great deal on a watch; a matching handcuff, if you’re into that sort of thing.
When I look at the dark glass of my smartphone, Snow White’s wicked stepmother and her mirror come to mind. The Evil Queen famously asks, “Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?” A talking mirror is some old school, magic technology. It feels like a precursor to the magic piece of glass we carry in our pockets today. The major upgrade from the 19th century model is that ours is connected to a wireless network making it mobile. The Evil Queen would, undoubtedly, have been an early adopter.
What started as a way to communicate with friends, family, and colleagues, we now mostly use to take selfies, write in modern hieroglyphics (emojis), and post our thoughts into the echo chamber of social media. The Evil Queen would no longer need poison apples to take out her foe, that’s what comment sections are for. Had she only known, she could have used her newfangled magic mirror to effortlessly cancel Snow White with a compromising photo of her with the Seven Dwarves. No self-respecting Prince Charming would’ve wanted any part of that optic. Mission accomplished. Use the apples for pie.
The next time you pick up your smartphone, you’ll see your reflection gazing back at you from the depths of its glass slab. If you ask the AI bot that comes loaded in your phone “who is the fairest of them all?”, it will quickly search for the line and, like the Evil Queen, you’ll be told it’s Snow White. Perhaps the most important question to ask is to yourself: why are you talking to your phone? Put it down on the table, where its ancestors used to live. Go outside. And party like it’s 1999.
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