Every wall of the aptly named Hall of Mirrors was covered with reflective surfaces of all shapes and sizes.

Most of the mirrors were already occupied by other Reflectors, making it easy for me to find the one intended for me- a modest wall mirror that was barely taller than I was.

Taking my place in front of it, I gazed with intent excitement at my reflection. The brown-haired, green-eyed, generously freckled sixteen-year-old in the mirror smiled eagerly back. 

It wouldn't be long before she would smile of her own accord. 

For the four years since I'd passed the Reflector examinations, I'd been waiting for this day: the day my twin sister would finally be freed from her glassy prison. All thanks to the company whose logo was plastered across the ceiling. 

Reflector, Inc. Doubling the world's genius one reflection at a time. 

The company's premise was simple but undeniable: imagine what the world would've been like with two Mozarts or four Edisons. With the technology to animate the reflections of the smartest teenagers in the world, Reflector had quickly grown into a corporate giant, producing the majority of Ivy League graduates and college dropout millionaires alike. The average IQ of the human race had risen three points since the founding of Reflector, and a quarter of the world's statesmen were Reflector-born twins. 

And I was about to become a part of that. 

"Reflectors, please put on your protective eyegear and maintain eye contact with your reflection. Thank you." 

As the announcement ended, I watched as the Reflectors all around me donned the plastic goggles that had been hanging around their necks before proceeding to do the same. Then, I turned my attention back to my reflection as instructed, gazing into a pair of eyes identical to my own. 

"Twinning will commence in 3... 2... 1..."

Her hand was the first thing to emerge. She reached out tentatively from the mirror, wiggling her fingers as if testing her ability to move independently of me. I watched, mesmerized, as the rest of her body followed until we stood across from each other, separated only by a few inches of stale air. 

My sister! I wanted to cry out, yet one look at her sinking expression and the dullness in her once-vibrant eyes was enough to keep me silent. 

"You...you're me," she whimpered.

"No, you're my reflection," I smiled. "My sister." 

"But, I thought I was..." she choked, her eyes widening in horror as she stepped away from me, backing into the now empty mirror. An inexplicable pang wrenched my heart as a solitary tear dripped down her porcelain cheek. "I thought I was unique." 

This was not how this was supposed to go.

I raised my right hand in an effort to get her attention and as she, driven by habit, raised her left, I came to face-to-face with the Reflector Program's one blatant flaw. 

Our reflections may be perfect copies of us in appearance, but in behavior, they're our exact opposites.