When in Rome

2026 Write Now Winner - Current University of Iowa Students

“Seems everyone has a podcast these days,” Max remembered his aunt saying at Thanksgiving. “Gardening, movies, other stuff…” Her eyes pulsed. “What’s one more?”

This was the clincher. Max decided that, despite his reservations, a podcast really was the best way to express his thoughts. He lived alone, hadn’t had a real girlfriend in years, and hadn’t expressed himself in a meaningful manner in a very long time.

If everyone really is doing it, he thought. Why can’t I?

He decided to call it When in Rome (a cheeky reference to his last name, Romans). For his first episode, he let himself ramble about his past and his interests before ending with a tease as to what sides of himself he might show next time, and once he had a half hour of content he sat down to play it back.

Max put his finger over the play button and stopped. Maybe that could be my podcast’s gimmick, he thought. Maybe I make it my unfiltered, unedited, otherwise unencumbered thoughts? It might not be for everyone, but isn’t this thing mostly for me? Shouldn’t I do what’s best for my sake?

He decided he should. No more than a minute after first recording, Max hit publish on Episode 1 and started winding down for the night. As he brushed his teeth and examined his perfect reflection in the mirror, he noticed a crack in the lower right corner that he could have sworn was new. But how could it have gotten there?

He shrugged it off. Things happen.

Episode 2 went even smoother than Episode 1. This time he had almost an hour’s worth of content, and he dived into everything from his past relationships, his favorite movies, and even a little bit of his broader beliefs about what was wrong with the world. Any fear he had that his ideas might get rejected eluded him, and he hit publish even quicker than last time. He checked back over Episode 1 and saw that it only had 3 listens.

That’s okay, he thought. It’s for me. It’s for me.

The crack in the mirror was a little larger that night. Max didn’t notice.

He began to find his groove. Recording a new episode roughly every week became the norm, and slowly but surely his listener base grew. Max listened to their thoughtful comments and found comfort knowing he wasn’t the only one feeling the things that he was feeling.

When in Rome began to consume him. In his cubicle at work, all he could think about was how much he’d rather be at home with his microphone. He found that he only ever felt himself when he was speaking into it, and he wanted to be himself as often as possible.

In his bathroom mirror one night, Max finally noticed that the crack had grown. He remained stumped. What could have caused it?

He went to bed and decided he didn’t care enough to devote further thought.

The podcast continued to grow, finding its way to Max’s work colleagues and family. When his mother first told him, he was terrified; he recalled all the raw, unfiltered sentiments he had shared, and somehow he hadn’t considered that they might one day reach his mother’s ears. But he needn’t have feared.

“I’m glad you’re doing this,” she said. “We all need to express ourselves in some way, don’t we?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “We do.”

Max hit a second groove. He reached a point where sessions went by so fast he didn’t even remember what he had said in them. He just hit publish and watched the listener count climb even higher. It was the easiest success he had found in his life.

One night, after recording an episode that Max remembered as ho-hum but didn’t have the memories to prove it, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He froze.

The crack had now journeyed completely from corner to corner, splitting the mirror perfectly in half. The man inside looked like Max, but his face was different. There was no light on his face, no soul in his eyes.

“Hello, Max,” said the Max in the mirror. “Might we have a word?”

Max found himself trying to jump back in shock, but somehow his body stayed. It was like he couldn’t jump.

The mirror Max continued. “Pleased to finally meet you in person. If you call what I am a person. What do you call what you are?” He shook his head. “No matter, no matter. I suppose it’s time for business.”

“What- what-” Max finally stammered out. Mirror Max’s lips didn’t move – only his.

“Yes, yes, I’m getting there. So I’m sure you’ve been wondering where your podcast success has been coming from, correct? You can’t honestly have assumed it was this easy to turn drivel into gold.”

Max fell silent again.

“Precisely!” spurted his reflection. “We, that is, I – am a Podclastar. We come from what you call the twilight zone, or the outer limits. Every year, we carefully select a podcast as our vessel. We enhance its proliferation, make minds more receptive, and otherwise help move it along. Everyone it reaches becomes our source. Including you, my good friend. On behalf of all of us, thanks for starting it.”

Max didn’t understand. “Source?”

Mirror Max nodded. “That’s right. Our life source. We get to live another year, and everyone we reach loses only minutes of their own life. It’s a fair deal, I think.”

“You, you’ve taken-”

“We didn’t take anything, Max.” The light that wasn’t over the reflection’s face started to fade. “It was all you.” He faded further, but not before breaking into one last smile. “Thank you.”

The reflection was his own again. Max blinked, and his fractured self blinked too.

“Thank you,” he said. He completed his nightly routine and went to bed. As he dreamed, he wondered what his next episode would be about.