Eden's DermaMorph came in a tasteful silver box with the slogan, 'Face the World,' emblazoned on the side. It was heavier than she expected, but most of the weight was the instruction manual. The device itself was a flexible plastic strip that she could affix behind one ear, and it paired with an app that she'd already downloaded onto her phone.
       She'd already programmed and registered a face -- registration kept any users from accidentally using identical faces. Eden's registered face was an idealized version of her own, but she did cycle through a few of the other pre-set options that the designers provided the first time she put it on, just to see what they would look like.
       The illusion was perfect. The stranger's face that stared back from the mirror moved when she did, copied her expressions perfectly. She stuck out her tongue, pressed a finger into her cheek, pulled on her lower lip. Her new reflection matched her motions without wavering or stuttering.
       It was uncanny. She switched to her own pre-set image and couldn't help grinning.
       She thumbed through the instruction manual. It seemed fairly foolproof. It was safe to shower in, safe to swim in. It didn't offer any sun protection, it wasn't recommended for over 72 consecutive hours of use, and the adhesive could cause minor skin irritation. Famous people's faces were registered and restricted, so it wasn't possible to go out looking like Marilyn Monroe. Or the president.
       She skimmed over the section about the 'Mona Lisa' setting. The DermaMorph could mask almost any facial expressions -- hide them beneath an expression of blank civility or polite interest. It was recommended for stressful family gatherings, boring business meetings, or small talk with important but possibly disagreeable acquaintances.
       She stared at her new face for a few more minutes, turning this way and that, admiring her wrinkle-free, dewy skin: no fine lines, no dark circles, no blemishes.
       Her lips were a bit bigger, her eyes a bit wider, her nose just a smidge smaller.
       She grinned again, and her teeth were bright white and even.
       She peeled off the plastic strip and placed it reverently in its box. Then she set her alarm for half an hour later than usual and went to bed.

       Eden met Kevin about a month after she started using her DermaMorph. He was funny and hot and decent in bed. In her mother's words, "A real keeper."
       Eden wasn't so sure, but it was nice to have someone to make plans with.
       On their third date, he touched her cheek and said, "I really like how natural your look is. So many girls cake on tons of makeup, but you don't need it."
       Eden looked down, ignoring the curl of shame in her belly, hoping that she just looked modest. "Thanks, Kevin."
       "Are you busy next weekend? A few of my friends are going on a cruise."
       A trip together? After three dates? Eden frowned, not sure if it sounded like a good idea.
       "It'd be my treat," he said, pouring her a glass of wine.
       Who could say no to a free trip? "I should be able to get a few days off."

       "And that's when he started crying and ran out of the conference room," Kevin's friend Travis said like it was the punchline to the world's funniest joke.
       Everyone else laughed. Eden forced a smile.
       "Needless to say, he didn't get the promotion."
       Kevin put an arm around her shoulder, his mouth to her ear. "Are you okay, sweetie? You look a little uncomfortable."
       Eden wanted to say that crying wasn't shameful or funny, but she also didn't want to start a fight. "I'm fine," she said. "Just a little tired. I should go freshen up."
       She stood in the bathroom and stared at her reflection. At the fake face that she was showing the world. She had another four days of this.
       She was supposed to be having fun, she reminded herself. And so the joke had been a little mean. People were mean all of the time. They weren't being mean to her.
       She wanted to go home.
       She pulled out her phone, started the app, and turned on Mona Lisa mode. Her reflection's expression shifted to a small, mysterious smile, then smoothed to blankness.
       The DermaMorph would read the expressions of the people around her and project an appropriate look into her face. Beneath it, she could scowl all she liked, and no one would ever know.

       Eden sat by the pool, reading the novel she'd brought along. Travis sat down next to her. Eden pretended that she didn't see him.
       "What are you reading?" he asked.
       She rolled her eyes, trusting her DermaMorph to hide it. "The Left Hand of Darkness."
       "I've heard of that," Travis said. "But I haven't read it."
       "I'm enjoying it," Eden said, hoping he'd get the hint and let her get back to it.
       "Have you read any of her other stuff?"
       Eden resigned herself to the conversation. But it went surprisingly well. They were laughing together over the wretchedness of the Earthsea TV miniseries when Kevin came up and put his arm around her shoulder.
       "What are you two up to?" he asked.
       Eden scowled at him. "We were just talking."
       "What about?"
       "Books."
       "Ha. I don't remember the last time I read a book," Kevin said.
       Travis stared down at the deck.
       Eden gaped at him. How had she gone on three dates with him without that huge red flag coming up? "I think reading is important," she said. "It enhances creativity and helps build empathy."
       Kevin grabbed the book out of her hand and started reading the back text aloud in a lilting voice. He laughed when he finished. "I feel more creative already."
       Travis laughed, too, but it sounded forced.
       Eden suddenly wondered if the mean joke from the night before had been Travis's version of her DermaMorph -- his lie so he could fit in. Or maybe he was a jerk who just happened to like to read.
       Eden didn't laugh, but she imagined that the DermaMorph displayed an indulgent smile.

       Eden filled her days with sightseeing and tours and mystery dinners. She and Kevin were only alone at night. She and Travis didn't talk again. It was fine. No one suspected she was miserable.
       She was lonely, but she longed to get home, so she could finally be alone.
       When the ship finally docked, Eden was ready to go home, take off her DermaMorph, and hope Kevin never called her again.
       Instead, he held her hand as they disembarked. "Want to come back to my place?" he asked. "Have one last night of vacation?"
       "I'm sorry, Kevin, but I'm tired. I'd really like to just go home."
       He didn't let go of her hand. "These last days have been really special to me," he said. "You've been so amazing."
       "We hardly talked," Eden said.
       He laughed. "And that's what I love about you. You don't need to talk about your feelings like other women. You don't get offended by harmless jokes, either. I'm so tired of uptight girls with no sense of humor."
       Eden pulled away. "I appreciate that, but I really want to go home." She hoped that her DermaMorph wasn't smiling.
       Kevin gaped at her. "I just told you that I love you, and you want to go home?" Then he grinned and shook his head. "It's a little late to be playing hard to get, isn't it?"
       "Kevin--"
       "I'll go pull the car around," he said. "You just wait right here."
       It would be easy to just go home with him. To remind herself of the times when he had been sweet, to argue to herself that she was being unreasonable. To just do what he wanted. He wasn't going to hurt her. He had been condescending, but not outright cruel. And so what if he wasn't perfect? Neither was she. And at least he wasn't lying about it.
       But when he was gone, Eden slipped into the bathroom and pulled out her phone. Her hands were shaking. She didn't want to go home with him, and it scared her that he wouldn't listen. She just wanted this trip to be over. She switched to one of the pre-set faces, changed her shirt, and called a ride.
       She walked past Kevin as he frantically scanned the crowd for her.
       Her hands were still shaking.

       When she got home, she made herself a cup of herbal tea and curled up on her couch under a blanket.
       She tugged at the corner of her DermaMorph, ready to wear her own skin for a while.
       It wouldn't come off.
       She loaded the app, switched it off, and darted to the bathroom.
       A stranger still stared back from the mirror. She was calm and smiling.
       She pulled the app back up and turned off the Mona Lisa setting, but nothing changed. She switched back to her registered face, and the reflection melted and reformed into something that was at least familiar.
       Eden scratched at the plastic strip till her fingernails were bloody. It didn't budge.
       She called the number on the back of the manual.
       "Thanks for calling DermaMorph; this is Suzette. How can I help you?"
       "I can't get it off," Eden said. "And it won't turn off."
       "I'm so sorry about that! Have you exceeded the recommended 72-hour wear time?"
       "Yes." Eden fought to keep her voice calm. She stared at her expressionless reflection. "I was on a cruise."
       "I see. Did you engage Mona Lisa mode?"
       "Yes. And that won't turn off, either."
       "I understand. I'm so sorry, but we're not able to offer compensation for usage that exceeds our recommendations."
       "I don't want anything from you. I just want to get it off of me!"
       "Have you tried restarting the app? Or your phone?"
       "I turned off the app, but not the phone."
       "That might be your best bet."
       "That doesn't change the fact that I can't get it off of me!"
       "Ma'am, there's no need to panic. The adhesive is powerful, but it's not permanent. If you soak in a hot, soapy bath for 10 minutes or so, you should be able to peel it off without any trouble."
       Eden took a deep breath. "Okay."
       "Can I help with anything else today?" Suzette asked.
       Eden hung up.
       As instructed, she turned off her phone.
       Her reflection flickered. Then she saw her own face for the first time in almost a week. She looked like shit.
       She sobbed in relief as she ran herself a bath. Her self-inflicted scratches stung as she sank into the water.
       The DermaMorph left a patch of red, irritated skin when it finally peeled off. But after the bath, it did come off without any trouble.

       Kevin left a frantic voicemail, then a series of angry ones. Eden didn't call him back.
       She kept her DermaMorph in her purse, just in case she needed to wear a stranger's face as a mask. Having the option made her feel safer. But she stopped using her registered face--stopped hiding her imperfections and expressions.
       She bumped into Travis at a coffee shop on a drizzly afternoon. She hoped that he wouldn't recognize her. She considered darting into the bathroom to hide behind her DermaMorph, but decided she didn't want to bother.
       "Eden? Is that you?"
       She poured sugar into her latte. "Yeah."
       "It's good to see you. I heard that you and Kevin broke up. He was pretty devastated."
       Eden believed that Kevin was devastated that she'd dared leave right after he said he loved something about her. That he was devastated that she'd slipped out of his control.
       "Why are you friends with him?" Eden asked. "He's not nice to you."
       "He's not so bad."
       Eden shrugged. "If you say so. But I think you could make better friends."
       There was an awkward moment of silence. Eden sipped her latte and looked out at the rain.
       "You look -- different," Travis said.
       "I don't owe you anything, Travis," Eden said, keeping her voice gentle. "Not an explanation, not a conversation. I'm just here for coffee."
       He blinked. "You're right. I'm sorry."
       "It's okay. Goodbye, Travis." She turned to go.
       "Wait," he said. He held out his umbrella. "You can have this."
       She smiled at him, touched by the gesture. "I appreciate it, but I'm okay." She walked out into the world, and the rain was soft against her face.