Skip to content


Looking through the heautoscope is unflattering, and Ainsley can see as much on Maartechen’s face. (Ergo, so can Maartechen.)

“Now, like a camera, it does add ten pounds,” she begins.

“I don’t care about that,” he says, not quite fuming. “But the little words floating around–they’re–is this a joke?”

“It shows you the self other people see,” she says. “Those are, um, translated from their impressions…”

“‘Preening?’ ‘Fickle?’ ‘Abrupt?’ Ridiculous! I don’t even know why I wanted this!”

He storms out of the shop. Ainsley sighs. She’d fix the dumb thing if she could stand to look through it.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License.