Porochista Khakpour reads from "Sons and other Flammable Objects."
Porochista Khakpour was born in Tehran in 1978 and raised in the Greater Los Angeles area (South Pasadena, to be exact). Her first language was Farsi, her second (and luckily mostly forgotten) tongue, Valley Girl. She attended Sarah Lawrence College and The Johns Hopkins Writing Seminars MA program. She has been awarded fellowships from Johns Hopkins University, Northwestern University, the Sewanee Writers’ Conference, Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, and Yaddo.
She began writing as an arts and entertainment journalist—her subjects have spanned from clubs (Paul Oakenfold!) to couture (Paul Poiret!); Maggie Gyllenhaal (Maggie’s first big feature!) to Fabio (Porochista’s first feature at 16!); New York City’s finest drinking establishments (Paper magazine bar columnist, 2000-2001, as well as New York magazine online bar critic) to rural Illinois’s most dangerous skydiving compound (2004 staff writer stint at The Chicago Reader). Her writing has appeared in The New York Times, The Daily Beast, The Village Voice, The Chicago Reader, Paper, Flaunt, Nylon, Bidoun, Alef, Canteen, nerve.com and FiveChapters.com, among others.
She currently spends a third of her time in New York City and two thirds three hours away in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania where she teaches Fiction at Bucknell University.
Khakpour: Well this is somewhere in the middle of the novel shortly after, you know, Xerxes and his father have gotten into a huge fight when the father has visited him in New York. And some months have gone by and he’s become essentially estranged from his family. And it’s not until the morning of 9/11 that he sort of realizes that he should pick up the phone and call them. He’s in New York in the East Village, and they are in Los Angeles. And so 9/11 becomes the occasion on which he has to somewhat reconnect. So let me just read.
“Almost exactly eight months after his father left him in New York, Xerxes Adam was awakened to the hottest summer day of the year by the invasion of a rather unwelcome mental slide show – visions of that distant prime creator, his mother. Maybe he dreamed of her all night, every night even. Who knew? He hoped not. He hoped it was just his conscious in calculation mode sending the alarm that it was time. “Xerxes, time. Your mother is waiting.”
His mother had now left what he estimated must be 100 and something messages in 30 something weeks. The first third had been desperate, and urgent, and worried. “Please Xerxes,” she would say, adding, “My son” in a shaky voice in way that made him feel as if his entrails were melting.
The second third angry, annoyed, acerbic, trickling eventually to a just pissed snippiness. “And who are you mad at exactly?” she would snap.
The third third cheery, oblivious, delusional, often delivered in the form of five-minute plus, often diary entry-like recordings that chronicled her day – just disjointed spewing of whatever was on her mind at the moment; only at the end perhaps tagging on, “Maybe you will call.” Or, “This is your mother wondering how you are, but not wondering too hard. Bye-bye.” Or like the last one, “Here’s to you being all okay or whatever. __________.” It was the type of good night you’d leave a stranger. She would slam the phone down and turn off the lights. At some point she decided that calling at her bedtime would be best. They were three hours deeper into the night, and so he’d certainly be in at 1:00 in the morning; maybe 2:00; hell 3:00, at midnight her time. And she’d give up and force herself to sleep. But not without giving the possibly pretend sleeping mass of husband next to her a sharp nudge and lecture. “This is getting crazy Darius,” she would hiss into the darkness. “What the hell did you do to him? He’s our son. This is something you did. Now you get him back, you hear me? He’s your son too. I don’t care what you say. Just bring him back to life.” He’d mumble incoherently and toss and turn as if to signify some grand struggle. “I’m telling you,” she would continue. “Some other parents would call the police. How do we know he isn’t, you know . . .”
Xerxes wondered how she would possibly know if he was dead. She wouldn’t. This was one thing about New York he realized immediately – that to die in this city was to die. The end. Click. Exit human. No one would notice. No one would fight it or even interfere. No one would even notice. No one was looking. And if someone find you, well fine. You were just another of the many who died in the city daily – mysterious, natural, unsolved, homicidal, suicidal, whatever. You were a number, and if you didn’t like that you could leave. He did not want to leave. There were sacrifices worth making for the city, he had decided long ago. But it did alarm him that perhaps she had resigned herself to thinking the worst in this third stage of messages. Perhaps she did assume he was dead. And perhaps she noticed any clues to the contrary – a changed message greeting at best – as simple surprises; grains of evidence for an alternate universe she had once fought for but eventually tired of. Maybe his mother had done what no other mother in the history of the domestic matriarchy had done in regard to her offspring. Maybe she had abandoned hope.
This barely conscious reflection on his two-thirds of a year’s worth of inhumanity, combined with the sickly stickiness of a peculiarly oppressive 9:00 a.m. heat jolted him fully awake as if from a falling dream. Of all people, why had he shed his mother from his life? He remembered being a child and being mad at her – her so much more often than him. Because it was she who was constantly stepping into his world, combing and gelling his hair when all the boys wore it messy; wiping his face, fiddling with his shirt, tying his shoes for him; always hollering annoying reminders as he was on his way out; always checking on him at his friends’ houses; always tucking him in with embarrassing, often untrue admonitions or reminders, “You are growing up! You need to think about smelling good now that you’re growing up. Showering regularly to begin with, because I am about to vomit and I am your mother.” Or the most dreaded. “Imagine yourself in the future and think, ‘Would my silly behavior today get me there? What would a future wife think now?’” Once in a while in a rage what would become constant repeat loop in his head would want to leak out. And his head answered everything. Everyone annoying and adult was the sinister kiddy staple, “I wish you would die.”
Once to Xerxes’ own adult embarrassment, he remembered being pushed – pushed to say it out loud, though it best in a weak whisper.
“What did you say?” she’d snap furiously.
“I wish you . . .” He had paused, sure he could see a glimmer of tears in her eyes. Although in retrospect he thought that any human’s eyes, naturally slimy and liquidy, could look tearful if guilt steered you in that direction. And he had rephrased, “I wish you guys would die.” Psychologically it was better for him, but its true genius was in being better for her as well. “You guys” became the great equalizer. It was something more like, “I wish the whole institution of you – parenthood – would die, not you personally.” All she had done was shake her head. She still tucked him in. And so he wondered now too many years later how at 6:00 a.m. their time and their other heat; their dry, dull warmth of West Coast, versus his merciless, wet, dirty big city tropical wave – how we could reach her and soften his blow. He had basically in his silence and his refusal to reach out said, “I wish I was dead to you,” and he had gotten what he wanted. He might as well be. So when he finally did it that morning – did the dreaded dialing of a number he grew up with, which still seemed so natural – the automatic sequencing of otherwise illogical numbers that he had worked so hard to render unnatural – he didn’t even consider that she might not be the one to pick up. As life goes it had to be him. His father with his usual gruff, reluctant, “Hello,” but put the emphasis on “hell”, which he was probably conscious of, or probably found funny, or else unapt. “There is no God,” Xerxes sighed. Xerxes slammed the phone down, shoving it deep into a draw as if to pretend it never happened. He closed his eyes and buried the day back into his pillow.
Three weeks later, a day after the first one third of September 2001, he finally called when life finally gave him a push to put whatever pettiness between him and that number aside, if only for a day when he knew risking him could no longer be an issue. That he had to – had to more than ever announce himself as living; as one of the many who that day felt like a few; who had lived through it, so far at least. And through the few dial tones he said to himself over and over, “There is a God. There is a God. Oh please let there be a God.” And suddenly there she was answering without even a “hello”; just that mystical, all-knowing mother’s “Xerxes?” And the first thing he could think to say was the only thing that he knew true in that surreal hell of a day.
“Mother,” he declared breathlessly. “I am alive.”
Darius was, of course, at her side just barely making out the sound of the receiver at his wife’s ear. His son’s voice was that usually __________ high, chipmunk garble that phones render voices. “It could be anyone’s voice,” he thought. “It all sounds the same, except that is my son.” His son calling from the heart of a danger he could not comprehend at the moment. He drowned him out and drowned out his wife’s overcompensating, awkward coos and exclamations and turned the news louder until they both disappeared into the unrelenting dissonance of disaster. On the television they crumbled over and over – two tall, perhaps too proud totems of the city; two towers erected to be each other’s image indistinguishable, somber doubles; each dying the same death; neither intolerable when it came to supposedly inevitable. Over and over it replayed. One went down. The other stood solo. Fast forward to a new clip. The other goes down just as the first, and then nothing. Where his son was it was sunny. It was also sunny where he was. He squinted out the window and imagined the entire sky over America smiling heartlessly. He imagined his homeland that was almost dark. He thought that there was, at best, only a moon over Iran, and he thought how nice that was. He closed his eyes, and gone were the repeating images on the television. And gone was that blinding brightness, and he let the just so dark wall of his eyelid melt into the image of the twilight Tehran sky. It was time to go home.”
Almost exactly eight months after his father left him in New York, Xerxes Adam was awakened to the hottest summer day of the year by the invasion of a rather unwelcome mental slide show - visions of that distant prime creator, his mother.
Big ideas.
Once a week.
Subscribe to our weekly newsletter.
‘Designer baby’ book trilogy explores the moral dilemmas humans may soon create
How would the ability to genetically customize children change society? Sci-fi author Eugene Clark explores the future on our horizon in Volume I of the "Genetic Pressure" series.
- A new sci-fi book series called "Genetic Pressure" explores the scientific and moral implications of a world with a burgeoning designer baby industry.
- It's currently illegal to implant genetically edited human embryos in most nations, but designer babies may someday become widespread.
- While gene-editing technology could help humans eliminate genetic diseases, some in the scientific community fear it may also usher in a new era of eugenics.
Tribalism and discrimination
<p>One question the "Genetic Pressure" series explores: What would tribalism and discrimination look like in a world with designer babies? As designer babies grow up, they could be noticeably different from other people, potentially being smarter, more attractive and healthier. This could breed resentment between the groups—as it does in the series.</p><p>"[Designer babies] slowly find that 'everyone else,' and even their own parents, becomes less and less tolerable," author Eugene Clark told Big Think. "Meanwhile, everyone else slowly feels threatened by the designer babies."</p><p>For example, one character in the series who was born a designer baby faces discrimination and harassment from "normal people"—they call her "soulless" and say she was "made in a factory," a "consumer product." </p><p>Would such divisions emerge in the real world? The answer may depend on who's able to afford designer baby services. If it's only the ultra-wealthy, then it's easy to imagine how being a designer baby could be seen by society as a kind of hyper-privilege, which designer babies would have to reckon with. </p><p>Even if people from all socioeconomic backgrounds can someday afford designer babies, people born designer babies may struggle with tough existential questions: Can they ever take full credit for things they achieve, or were they born with an unfair advantage? To what extent should they spend their lives helping the less fortunate? </p>Sexuality dilemmas
<p>Sexuality presents another set of thorny questions. If a designer baby industry someday allows people to optimize humans for attractiveness, designer babies could grow up to find themselves surrounded by ultra-attractive people. That may not sound like a big problem.</p><p>But consider that, if designer babies someday become the standard way to have children, there'd necessarily be a years-long gap in which only some people are having designer babies. Meanwhile, the rest of society would be having children the old-fashioned way. So, in terms of attractiveness, society could see increasingly apparent disparities in physical appearances between the two groups. "Normal people" could begin to seem increasingly ugly.</p><p>But ultra-attractive people who were born designer babies could face problems, too. One could be the loss of body image. </p><p>When designer babies grow up in the "Genetic Pressure" series, men look like all the other men, and women look like all the other women. This homogeneity of physical appearance occurs because parents of designer babies start following trends, all choosing similar traits for their children: tall, athletic build, olive skin, etc. </p><p>Sure, facial traits remain relatively unique, but everyone's more or less equally attractive. And this causes strange changes to sexual preferences.</p><p>"In a society of sexual equals, they start looking for other differentiators," he said, noting that violet-colored eyes become a rare trait that genetically engineered humans find especially attractive in the series.</p><p>But what about sexual relationships between genetically engineered humans and "normal" people? In the "Genetic Pressure" series, many "normal" people want to have kids with (or at least have sex with) genetically engineered humans. But a minority of engineered humans oppose breeding with "normal" people, and this leads to an ideology that considers engineered humans to be racially supreme. </p>Regulating designer babies
<p>On a policy level, there are many open questions about how governments might legislate a world with designer babies. But it's not totally new territory, considering the West's dark history of eugenics experiments.</p><p>In the 20th century, the U.S. conducted multiple eugenics programs, including immigration restrictions based on genetic inferiority and forced sterilizations. In 1927, for example, the Supreme Court ruled that forcibly sterilizing the mentally handicapped didn't violate the Constitution. Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendall Holmes wrote, "… three generations of imbeciles are enough." </p><p>After the Holocaust, eugenics programs became increasingly taboo and regulated in the U.S. (though some states continued forced sterilizations <a href="https://www.uvm.edu/~lkaelber/eugenics/" target="_blank">into the 1970s</a>). In recent years, some policymakers and scientists have expressed concerns about how gene-editing technologies could reanimate the eugenics nightmares of the 20th century. </p><p>Currently, the U.S. doesn't explicitly ban human germline genetic editing on the federal level, but a combination of laws effectively render it <a href="https://academic.oup.com/jlb/advance-article/doi/10.1093/jlb/lsaa006/5841599#204481018" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">illegal to implant a genetically modified embryo</a>. Part of the reason is that scientists still aren't sure of the unintended consequences of new gene-editing technologies. </p><p>But there are also concerns that these technologies could usher in a new era of eugenics. After all, the function of a designer baby industry, like the one in the "Genetic Pressure" series, wouldn't necessarily be limited to eliminating genetic diseases; it could also work to increase the occurrence of "desirable" traits. </p><p>If the industry did that, it'd effectively signal that the <em>opposites of those traits are undesirable. </em>As the International Bioethics Committee <a href="https://academic.oup.com/jlb/advance-article/doi/10.1093/jlb/lsaa006/5841599#204481018" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">wrote</a>, this would "jeopardize the inherent and therefore equal dignity of all human beings and renew eugenics, disguised as the fulfillment of the wish for a better, improved life."</p><p><em>"Genetic Pressure Volume I: Baby Steps"</em><em> by Eugene Clark is <a href="http://bigth.ink/38VhJn3" target="_blank">available now.</a></em></p>Lair of giant predator worms from 20 million years ago found
Scientists discover burrows of giant predator worms that lived on the seafloor 20 million years ago.
- Scientists in Taiwan find the lair of giant predator worms that inhabited the seafloor 20 million years ago.
- The worm is possibly related to the modern bobbit worm (Eunice aphroditois).
- The creatures can reach several meters in length and famously ambush their pray.
A three-dimensional model of the feeding behavior of Bobbit worms and the proposed formation of Pennichnus formosae.
Credit: Scientific Reports
Beware the Bobbit Worm!
<span style="display:block;position:relative;padding-top:56.25%;" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="1f9918e77851242c91382369581d3aac"><iframe type="lazy-iframe" data-runner-src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_As1pHhyDHY?rel=0" width="100%" height="auto" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" style="position:absolute;top:0;left:0;width:100%;height:100%;"></iframe></span>What is the ‘self’? The 3 layers of your identity.
Answering the question of who you are is not an easy task. Let's unpack what culture, philosophy, and neuroscience have to say.
- Who am I? It's a question that humans have grappled with since the dawn of time, and most of us are no closer to an answer.
- Trying to pin down what makes you you depends on which school of thought you prescribe to. Some argue that the self is an illusion, while others believe that finding one's "true self" is about sincerity and authenticity.
- In this video, author Gish Jen, Harvard professor Michael Puett, psychotherapist Mark Epstein, and neuroscientist Sam Harris discuss three layers of the self, looking through the lens of culture, philosophy, and neuroscience.
Massive 'Darth Vader' isopod found lurking in the Indian Ocean
The father of all giant sea bugs was recently discovered off the coast of Java.
- A new species of isopod with a resemblance to a certain Sith lord was just discovered.
- It is the first known giant isopod from the Indian Ocean.
- The finding extends the list of giant isopods even further.
The ocean depths are home to many creatures that some consider to be unnatural.
<img type="lazy-image" data-runner-src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yMzU2NzY4My9vcmlnaW4ucG5nIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTYxNTUwMzg0NX0.BTK3zVeXxoduyvXfsvp4QH40_9POsrgca_W5CQpjVtw/img.png?width=980" id="b6fb0" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="2739ec50d9f9a3bd0058f937b6d447ac" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" data-width="1512" data-height="2224" />Bathynomus raksasa specimen (left) next to a closely related supergiant isopod, B. giganteus (right)
<p>According to<a href="https://www.livescience.com/supergiant-isopod-newfound-species.html" target="_blank" rel="dofollow"> LiveScience</a>, the Bathynomus genus is sometimes referred to as "Darth Vader of the Seas" because the crustaceans are shaped like the character's menacing helmet. Deemed Bathynomus raksasa ("raksasa" meaning "giant" in Indonesian), this cockroach-like creature can grow to over 30 cm (12 inches). It is one of several known species of giant ocean-going isopod. Like the other members of its order, it has compound eyes, seven body segments, two pairs of antennae, and four sets of <a href="https://www.livescience.com/supergiant-isopod-newfound-species.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer dofollow">jaws</a>.</p><p>The incredible size of this species is likely a result of deep-sea gigantism. This is the tendency for creatures that inhabit deeper parts of the ocean to be much larger than closely related species that live in shallower waters. B. raksasa appears to make its home between 950 and 1,260 meters (3,117 and 4,134 ft) below sea <a href="https://news.nus.edu.sg/research/new-species-supergiant-isopod-uncovered" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer dofollow">level</a>. </p><p>Perhaps fittingly for a creature so creepy looking, that is the lower sections of what is commonly called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mesopelagic_zone" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer dofollow">The Twilight Zone</a><em>, </em>named for the lack of light available at such depths. </p><p>It isn't the only giant isopod, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giant_isopod" target="_blank">far from it</a>. Other species of ocean-going isopod can get up to 50 cm long (20 inches) and also look like they came out of a nightmare. These are the unusual ones, though. Most of the time, isopods stay at much more reasonable <a href="https://indianexpress.com/article/explained/explained-raksasa-cockroach-from-the-deep-the-stuff-nightmares-are-made-of-6513281/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer dofollow">sizes</a>. </p><p>The discovery of this new species was published in <a href="https://zookeys.pensoft.net/article/53906/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer dofollow">ZooKeys</a>. The remainder of the specimens from the trip are still being analyzed. The full report will be published <a href="https://www.futurity.org/deep-sea-giant-isopod-bathynomus-raksasa-2422042/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer dofollow">shortly</a>.<em> </em></p>What benefit does this find have for science? And is it as evil as it looks?
<div class="rm-shortcode" data-media_id="7XqcvwWp" data-player_id="FvQKszTI" data-rm-shortcode-id="8506fcd195866131efb93525ae42dec4"> <div id="botr_7XqcvwWp_FvQKszTI_div" class="jwplayer-media" data-jwplayer-video-src="https://content.jwplatform.com/players/7XqcvwWp-FvQKszTI.js"> <img src="https://cdn.jwplayer.com/thumbs/7XqcvwWp-1920.jpg" class="jwplayer-media-preview" /> </div> <script src="https://content.jwplatform.com/players/7XqcvwWp-FvQKszTI.js"></script> </div> <p>The discovery of a new species is always a cause for celebration in zoology. That this is the discovery of an animal that inhabits the deeps of the sea, one of the least explored areas humans can get to, is the icing on the cake.</p><p>Helen Wong of the National University of Singapore, who co-authored the species' description, explained the importance of the discovery:</p><p>"The identification of this new species is an indication of just how little we know about the oceans. There is certainly more for us to explore in terms of biodiversity in the deep sea of our region." </p><p>The animal's visual similarity to Darth Vader is a result of its compound eyes and the curious shape of its <a href="https://lkcnhm.nus.edu.sg/research/sjades2018/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer dofollow" style="">head</a>. However, given the location of its discovery, the bottom of the remote seas, it may be associated with all manner of horrifically evil Elder Things and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cthulhu" target="_blank" rel="dofollow">Great Old Ones</a>. <em></em></p>Here’s how you know when someone’s lying to your face
When someone is lying to you personally, you may be able to see what they're doing.
- A study uses motion-capture to assess the physical interaction between a liar and their victim.
- Liars unconsciously coordinate their movements to their listener.
- The more difficult the lie, the more the coordination occurs.
The tell
<p>Someone who is lying to your face is likely to copy your motions. The trickier the lie, the truer this is, according to experiments described in the study.</p><p>The researchers offer two possible explanations, both of which have to do with cognitive load. In a <a href="https://www.scimex.org/newsfeed/telling-a-really-big-lie-turns-us-into-copycats" target="_blank">press release</a>, the authors note that "Lying, especially when fabricating accounts, can be more cognitively demanding than truth telling."</p><p>The first hypothesis is that when someone is lying, their brain is simply too occupied with the subterfuge to pay any attention to the control of physical movements. As a result, the unconscious part of the liar's brain controlling movements defaults to the easiest course of action available: It simply imitates the motions of the person they're lying to.</p><p>The second possibility is that the liar's cognitive load deprives a liar of sufficient bandwidth to devise a clever, effective physical strategy. Instead, while lying, their attention is so laser-focused on their listener's reaction that the liar unconsciously parrots it.</p>Experimental whoppers
<img type="lazy-image" data-runner-src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNTUxMTc5My9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTYzNTgwOTY0NX0.3GYcJFPaeUrPE_NXYkadkUKi66IGLLH4wdTk2oo0AiA/img.jpg?width=980" id="77e98" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="8f9cd644cf3362f49ba9ad7c96939153" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" data-width="1440" data-height="954" />Credit: Niels/Adobe Stock
<p>The phenomenon is referred to as "nonverbal coordination," and there is some existing evidence in deception research that it does occur when someone is under a heavy cognitive load. However, that evidence is based on observations of specific body parts and doesn't comprehensively capture whole-body behavior, and little research has mutually tracked both parties' movements in a lying scenario.</p><p>Nonetheless, say the authors, "Nonverbal coordination is an especially interesting cue to deceit because its occurrence relies on automatic processes and is therefore more difficult to deliberately control."</p><p>To track nonverbal coordination, pairs of participants in the study's two experiments were outfitted with motion-capture devices Velcroed to their wrists, heads, and torsos before being seated facing each other across a low table.</p><p>In the first experiment, a dynamic time-warping algorithm analyzed participants movements as they ran through exercises in which one individual told the truth, and then told increasingly difficult lies. In the second experiment, listeners were given instructions that influenced the amount of attention they paid to the liar's movements.</p><p>The researchers found "nonverbal coordination increased with lie difficulty." They also saw that this increase "was not influenced by the degree to which interviewees paid attention to their nonverbal behavior, nor by the degree of interviewer's suspicion. Our findings are consistent with the broader proposition that people rely on automated processes such as mimicry when under cognitive load."</p>Mirroring
<p>There is, it must be said, a third possible reason that a liar copies their target's behavior: Maybe liars are subconsciously reinforcing their credibility with their victims using "mirroring."</p><p>As Big Think readers and anyone familiar with the art of persuasion knows, copying another person's actions is called "mirroring," and it's a way to get someone else to like you. Our brains have "<a href="https://bigthink.com/mind-brain/mirror-neurons-smiling" target="_self">mirror neurons</a>" that respond positively when someone imitates our actions. The result is something called "<a href="https://imaginehealth.ie/the-psychology-of-mirroring/" target="_blank">limbic synchrony</a>." <a href="https://www.scienceofpeople.com/mirroring/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Deliberately mirroring</a> a companion's movements is an acknowledged sales technique.</p><p>So, how can you tell when mirroring signifies a lie and not benign interpersonal salesmanship? There is an overlap, of course — lying is one form of persuasion, after all. Perhaps the smartest response is to simply take mirroring as a signal that close attention is warranted. No need to automatically shout "<a href="https://64.media.tumblr.com/7a549060a9b05fc0a94d50dfe0bcbd9e/tumblr_n24teywDbO1tv5oaqo1_250.gifv" target="_blank">liar!</a>" when someone copies you. Just step back a little mentally and listen a bit more carefully to what your companion is saying.</p>