14

 

JOEL WELCOMED A HOT sip of his straight-black coffee and finished reading the latest issue of the Record-Journal. He couldn’t help but think his daughter’s name should be somewhere in between the black lines and white paper. But she wasn’t. No picture, no story, nothing. Her vanishing wasn’t a big enough piece to run more than once.

His mind felt like putty as he tried to pull himself out of a near hangover. The last article he’d read before shutting the paper kept gnawing at him. It involved the unveiling of a new government facility, some unspecified place in Massachusetts that today went public. More locations like this one were already in plans for construction, the final and most prestigious edifice heading for residence somewhere in New York.

The article expressed the government’s first and chief priority of protecting the way of life for every fabric of humanity, stating that these locations would open a window to study the human condition more thoroughly, to locate man’s greatest strengths and greatest weaknesses.

“It is a fight to create and discover new potential in the human genes,” the writer pointed out, “and make way for a future without the limitations mankind has endured since the beginning of time. Volunteers for these new projects will be compensated and their identities kept confidential.” As Joel read, he found himself inwardly surprised by how easily people could be swayed. But it was becoming even clearer now. No one read between the lines, and the reporter issuing the story left it vague. She didn’t dare question who funded it or the process by which these people would be studied or tested. And she certainly didn’t raise a half-educated eyebrow as to the ultimate motive.

How many locations like these would be built, and who would run them?

Was it ethical to study human beings like this in hopes for a better world?

Massachusetts. What was it that kept drawing his thoughts there? It was like he couldn’t escape it. The people assigned to look for Emery months back had searched the surrounding states, in addition to combing the country via other networked locations, but for some reason, they stopped searching Massachusetts after just two days. Could there have been more to look for after all?

Joel’s thoughts switched again like a loose lever. He was drawn back to the summer. Earlier in the year, right after the oil spill in the Gulf, the president had revealed America’s three-year plan to protect against future tribulation.

A new agency emerged from the ashes of crisis. D.A.T.A.: Defense Against Terrorism Abroad. The very name sounded strange and suspicious, but the president pledged that it would be a more potent and effective agency than anything the world had ever seen. It was a better, more cost-effective solution for National Security, and this new program extended the jurisdiction of the president specifically. International borders that were previously unaided by American efforts now had his protection and intelligence.

China became the first to make the headlines, and the president issued a thrilled response to the States’ new partnership with this foreign power. He called it a new and inspiring alliance between two great empires of the world. “Freedom always comes at a cost,” the president remarked, “but it’s a cost we’re willing to invest for the security and the safety of our children and our world. Change is never easy, but it is change that has kept the American heart beating, and it is change that will keep it beating for generations to come.”

Joel played the television broadcasts back in his head a dozen times while he read the new article about this location just hours from this hick diner; he couldn’t help but try to piece the two together.

When the Gulf crisis hit the press, it was chaos. But shortly after, D.A.T.A. was unveiled, and for weeks, it distracted millions from the panic, which always held Joel to his suspicions. He recalled how, at the time, he was bottled up with his own familial suspicions, too much to give credence to his thoughts of injustice or sorrows afflicting others. But he knew that whenever a great tragedy or attack happened, it was for a reason; it had a purpose.

His coffee was now almost cool. As he finished the last few sips, his mind continued to wander. It seemed strange that so much could happen in so little time. In less than two years, the world had begun to change, spiraling almost out of control. But was it merely two years, or had this process been in the making for years prior, decades even?

Someone was in control. With poise and clarity the pieces were moving, toward what end, Joel didn’t have the slightest clue. But he knew he needed to stay sober, now more than ever. If there were some new, violent plot coming, he was nowhere near prepared. Emery had been taken, and since then he’d been gone. Might as well have vanished with her.

He still had questions desperate for answers. Where exactly was this location? Who was running it? And could he be held accountable for the sins he’d commit when he learned who had taken his daughter? 

Joel was finally beginning to pay attention, for real. He was sober now, and he’d stay that way if there was a heaven in the sky. Joel was waking up to everything, to the reality that this world was no longer the place he and Aimee had grown up in.

It was changing before their eyes.  

Joel’s tongue was still alive with the flavor of the coffee. He grabbed the newspaper he’d been reading and paid the tab for his breakfast. He was glad he’d gotten off the couch and come out today. A candle, however faint, now flickered to life inside of him. Boston was only a few hours away. Joel knew where he had to start looking for Emery.