It is not that the mask became his face. It is that no one gave him a face in the first place.
Where the people around him got their faces he could not say. It was as if there once existed a community face store from which everyone in town purchased their faces, but the store had closed down before he could save up enough money to buy a face of his own.
Perhaps because a chain of big-box face stores had moved in and run the independently owned face store out of business by offering lower prices that the independently owned face store could not match.
(This being a simple matter of sales volume, with the big-box stores moving more inventory than the independent stores and thus having more leverage in negotiations with the face vendors.)
Perhaps because a hotshot upstart company developed a brand new method of distributing faces more conveniently, and the brick-and-mortar face stores of old could not compete.
(This being a simple matter of access to venture capital, which allows the hotshot upstart companies to hire skilled engineers fresh out of college who have both the vision and the technical competency needed to design disruptive facial distribution methods.)
But he could not find any big-box face stores, nor could he find any hotshot upstart companies beaming faces on demand directly into the comfort of one’s home.
At that point he had two options: He could go faceless, or he could go maskless.
Matthew Kosinski is a socialist, poet, and MFA candidate at The New School. His work has appeared in HOOT and The Rising Phoenix Review.