with you. What he said will remain between you four.” He paused to ensure his words were understood. “Captain Brooks was a traitor. We let him into our world, and he betrayed us. He served his country with valor and distinction, until he didn’t. He failed to understand the mission and its greater good.”
The man puffed, creating a halo that rose towards the ceiling. He continued in an apathetic voice. “Gentlemen, ordinary people cannot handle what you now know.” He lowered the sweet Pacifica from his mouth. “I am going to make this clear...”
He gestured with his cigar towards the MPs, the smoke rising from the tip. His eyes were distant. His soul dead. “Never mention what happened here today, outside the statement we provided you. National security trumps the individual good. It’s how we survive.” He paused as the smoke once again encircled his head. “Please do not think we are the enemy, gentlemen. In fact, it’s just the opposite.”
With a crack of the rusty hinge, the men were gone. But this time the door gently closed behind them. The MPs watched the cigar smoke dissipate as it spread along the ceiling.
MP Sykes reached into his back pocket and pulled out the pamphlet Captain Brooks had given each of them. “I want nothing to do with this damn thing.” His act of tearing it into little pieces must have been contagious, and two other MPs repeated the action.
Manning, however, took the pamphlet out of his back pocket, but could not bring himself to destroy it. In all the confusion, the other three didn’t even notice he sat with his elbows resting on his knees, staring at it.
When his pamphlet had been turned into a pile of confetti Sykes approached the window, removed the dark covering, and threw the tiny pieces out into the rain that had begun to fall. Satisfied, or maybe relieved by his action, he left the room quietly. The other two MPs followed suit.
Manning was now alone, still staring at the pamphlet. His mind raced uncontrollably with grand thoughts of pride and country. The room cooled rapidly as the outside air rushed in through the window. His breath became more visible with each exhale. His uncertainty mounting, he drew in a large breath. His aching chest and knotted stomach expanded. A warm cloud of moist air blew onto the pamphlet when he heaved a heavy sigh. Before the vapor could fade, he tore it into two, then four, eight, 16, 32 pieces. Soon dozens of tiny bits of paper littered the floor.
“Tony!” screamed Charlotte when he walked back to where his family was waiting. His sister ran up and threw her arms around his neck.
“Thank God!” she gasped.
Soon, his entire family had surrounded him, all of them thankful for the blessings in their lives. Despite their energy, Tony remained without joy.
“The drive felt like an eternity,” Charlotte cried, holding her brother tightly, her head pressed against his chest. “Thank God, everything is okay! This nightmare is finally over.”
*
“Class, we are about to begin,” announced Professor Dayton Sorenson. A popular nickname among the students for him was ‘Old Sores’, a fitting name considering his ancient age and grumpy demeanor. “Before today’s lesson, let’s discuss thesis ideas.”
He pulled a folder from a hemp satchel, resting it on his desk, rifling through the sections. He looked up from under his glasses. “Jody.” He pointed to the Asian girl in the front row. “Do you have a topic?”
“I think so.” Her lack of confidence suggested otherwise.
The professor nodded for her to go on.
“Well, I have been studying death and bereavement. I’d like to look at how we’ve changed concerning mortality.”
“Okay.” Old Sores displayed a little authentic excitement—but only a little. “That may be a bit overbroad. With technology, the Earth is becoming one big culture. Given our timeframe, try to make it more specific. Maybe just burial practices.”
Jody hurried to jot down his
The man puffed, creating a halo that rose towards the ceiling. He continued in an apathetic voice. “Gentlemen, ordinary people cannot handle what you now know.” He lowered the sweet Pacifica from his mouth. “I am going to make this clear...”
He gestured with his cigar towards the MPs, the smoke rising from the tip. His eyes were distant. His soul dead. “Never mention what happened here today, outside the statement we provided you. National security trumps the individual good. It’s how we survive.” He paused as the smoke once again encircled his head. “Please do not think we are the enemy, gentlemen. In fact, it’s just the opposite.”
With a crack of the rusty hinge, the men were gone. But this time the door gently closed behind them. The MPs watched the cigar smoke dissipate as it spread along the ceiling.
MP Sykes reached into his back pocket and pulled out the pamphlet Captain Brooks had given each of them. “I want nothing to do with this damn thing.” His act of tearing it into little pieces must have been contagious, and two other MPs repeated the action.
Manning, however, took the pamphlet out of his back pocket, but could not bring himself to destroy it. In all the confusion, the other three didn’t even notice he sat with his elbows resting on his knees, staring at it.
When his pamphlet had been turned into a pile of confetti Sykes approached the window, removed the dark covering, and threw the tiny pieces out into the rain that had begun to fall. Satisfied, or maybe relieved by his action, he left the room quietly. The other two MPs followed suit.
Manning was now alone, still staring at the pamphlet. His mind raced uncontrollably with grand thoughts of pride and country. The room cooled rapidly as the outside air rushed in through the window. His breath became more visible with each exhale. His uncertainty mounting, he drew in a large breath. His aching chest and knotted stomach expanded. A warm cloud of moist air blew onto the pamphlet when he heaved a heavy sigh. Before the vapor could fade, he tore it into two, then four, eight, 16, 32 pieces. Soon dozens of tiny bits of paper littered the floor.
“Tony!” screamed Charlotte when he walked back to where his family was waiting. His sister ran up and threw her arms around his neck.
“Thank God!” she gasped.
Soon, his entire family had surrounded him, all of them thankful for the blessings in their lives. Despite their energy, Tony remained without joy.
“The drive felt like an eternity,” Charlotte cried, holding her brother tightly, her head pressed against his chest. “Thank God, everything is okay! This nightmare is finally over.”
*
“Class, we are about to begin,” announced Professor Dayton Sorenson. A popular nickname among the students for him was ‘Old Sores’, a fitting name considering his ancient age and grumpy demeanor. “Before today’s lesson, let’s discuss thesis ideas.”
He pulled a folder from a hemp satchel, resting it on his desk, rifling through the sections. He looked up from under his glasses. “Jody.” He pointed to the Asian girl in the front row. “Do you have a topic?”
“I think so.” Her lack of confidence suggested otherwise.
The professor nodded for her to go on.
“Well, I have been studying death and bereavement. I’d like to look at how we’ve changed concerning mortality.”
“Okay.” Old Sores displayed a little authentic excitement—but only a little. “That may be a bit overbroad. With technology, the Earth is becoming one big culture. Given our timeframe, try to make it more specific. Maybe just burial practices.”
Jody hurried to jot down his
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