by Nick Thacker
“Yet, 31-3 smiled at you.”
“Indeed.”
The man took over the interrogation once again by clearing his throat. “Dr. Lin, the interest of this meeting with you today is not to discuss the nature of the subject’s response — that will come at a later time. Rather, we would like to discuss the nature of the deviation itself.”
“I understand, and I will ensure that no more such deviation will —“
“Dr. Lin,” the man said. “You are our best researcher. Hired away from one of the world’s most premier health institutions. We cannot afford to waste a valuable asset such as yourself.”
Dr. Lin bowed his head. “Thank you.”
“That said,” the man continued, “we cannot afford any more infractions. Provoking the subjects, as you wrote early on, will only lead to wildly unpredictable outcomes.”
“But I didn’t provoke —“
The man held up a hand. “We must inform you that any more deviations or infractions by anyone on your team will result in your immediate removal from this facility.”
Now he was angry. He had never been ‘removed.’ He had never even been let go. He was the best, the one in demand. He waited for offers to come to him, not the other way around. How dare these people stomp on his reputation and his career solely out of retribution for an event they couldn’t even understand? How dare they assume something had happened one way, when he had specifically told them —
“Dr. Lin? Do you understand?”
Lin’s face darkened. He couldn’t help it any longer. He was a pawn to these people. A tool to use, abuse, and discard. Like his assistant had been. She had made a mistake, and she knew the consequences. But he wasn’t an assistant. He was an esteemed practitioner. He wasn’t one to make mistakes. He hadn’t made a mistake when he’d stared back at the man behind the glass. He knew what he was doing, and he was observing the subject. His patient. They didn’t understand that.
And he knew that now. They couldn’t understand that.
“Yes,” he said. “I understand perfectly.”
4
07:34AM. BBC WORLD NEWS.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE.
LIMA, PERU.
Initial reports seem to indicate the discovery and subsequent disappearance of a previously uncontacted tribe of natives in the Peruvian highlands. Located 300 kilometers north of Cusco, Peru, near the dense Parque Nacional Alto Purus and the closest city of Alerta, the last known location of the mysterious city of natives is known only to those who have traveled to visit it.
Dr. Rodney Barrett, esteemed archeologist and professor emeritus of Classical Archeology at King’s College, reported in an unpublished journal article that ‘there have been signs of habitation in the town, though recent investigation has turned up nary a thing. Quite a puzzling instance, indeed.’
Barrett declined to be interviewed, citing jetlag due to his recent jaunt to the jungled region bordering Brazil and the Amazon Rainforest, but the journal article he plans to publish next month indicates evidence that Barrett believes the tribe to have been a docile, localized group of native peoples.
‘The town is really much more like a small group of huts, still well-maintained, with a few larger structures intended for the larger requirements of civilised life. As an example, the structure we are calling Main No. 1, situated in the central area of the ‘town,’ is a large, rectangular building crafted from reeds and wood poles, and we believe it to be the central gathering place for ritualistic medical practices as well as meal gatherings.’
While this reads typical of many such Amazonian settlements both in the Basin and in neighboring countries, Barrett went on in the article to describe a conversation with one of his colleagues at King’s College regarding the most unique feature of this find:
‘The town itself has been abandoned, and from what we can gather, it was abandoned quite recently. It really is a curious thing; the town seems to have simply disappeared. There was smoke from an earlier fire, there were canoes filled with lines and tools and even the recent catch of the day. The main hall was found to have a working smoking pit, filled with the meat of fish and game and well past the point of being done.’
Dr. Barrett’s archeological team, consisting of eight Peruvian- and Brazilian-born porters, three undergraduate work-study students, and three graduate-level archeology students, have all corroborated Barrett’s theory.
Said one student of the expedition’s final destination: ’It truly is quite strange. There was a town, and every indication that this town had been — quite recently — inhabited insofar as a working town should be, but there was no one around. No human interaction with us, and none on our return trip. Very spooky indeed.’
Barrett will make a statement to the department chair and attending guests in a week, though no specific date has been set; further information will be posted online as it is received.
5
HARVEY ‘BEN’ BENNETT LOOKED OUT at the cerulean waters of the Caribbean. The points of the waves lanced up and down, miniature pinpricks of lighter blue against the deep blue backdrop of the ocean. It was never-ending, and yet it was full, loaded with life and creatures and an entire world he didn’t understand.
He’d never been drawn to the ocean. He didn’t dislike it, per se, but it was something he’d never felt a deep desire to be near. He preferred the woods, the deep scent of pines and earth, the moist air and cold winters. Ben had thought long and hard about this, about why a person would be more drawn to the warm, maritime climate of a beachfront umbrella than a secluded, cold cabin, but he hadn’t been able to reach a believable conclusion. He had to chalk it up to a simple difference in personality — some people preferred one, while some people preferred the exact opposite.
And this was the exact opposite of what he preferred. Again, he didn’t necessarily dislike it, but he would never have chosen it as a retreat. He never would have sprung for the multi-thousand-dollar vacation he currently found himself enjoying.
This all was Julie’s idea, something she’d been pushing him toward for nearly a year. Juliette Richardson was the only person on the planet he’d ever met who was as stubborn as him, and for some unbelievably annoying reason, it made him love her even more. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer when she’d made her mind up, and this vacation was no exception.
She’d begged, pleaded, and argued, and finally had simply started planning the trip on her own, fully aware of the power she had over him. She set the dates, knowing he was otherwise unoccupied and completely free, and she set the schedule, knowing his preferences, tastes, and expectations.
For that reason, he had little to complain about. He was watching the ocean of the southern Caribbean pass him by while sitting on a deck chair on something called a ‘Lido Deck.’ The railing in front of him blocked the view of the water directly below the port side of the ship, but there was enough water in the immediate vicinity that there was plenty to go around in his vision, all the way up to the point where the setting sun met the flat, horizontal line of the horizon.
He was wearing a tight-fitting bathing suit that Julie had picked out for him. Flowers that didn’t look like any flowers he’d ever seen in real life, white on a blue background. The blue was a good color, but he was constantly feeling like the suit was too tight, revealing more than it had been designed to cover. His shirt was lying next to the chair, and whenever a person walked near the chair he felt as though he needed to reach down and grab it, cover himself, and apologize for exposing his upper body. Julie seemed to be able to read directly into his struggle and know exactly what he was going through, which she used to her advantage by poking fun and making jokes at his expense.
The worst of it for Ben, however, was the footwear. She’d purchased matching sets of flip-flops, which she’d claimed were a popular type of sandal worn by many people, but he had never in his life of thirty-three years felt like he’d had less on his feet. He would have been more comfortable in socks.
At least socks stayed on his feet. She told him the flip-flops would take practice to get used to, and his argument against that line of reasoning had been that any type of footwear that required ‘practice to get used to’ was better off staying in the suitcase.
The flip-flops were currently hanging loosely off his feet, the space between his first and second toes the only thing holding them onto his body. They had started to form to his feet, and he was trying desperately to change his mind about how comfortable they had become.
“What are you thinking about?” Julie asked from the lounge chair next to him.
He looked over, taking an extra few seconds to enjoy the other view. He had been enjoying himself on the trip so far, contrary to what he’d initially expected. The food was amazing, the entertainment had lived up to expectations, and the overall feeling of relaxation had somehow snuck up on him and set in, against his desire to push it away. But the best part of the trip, hands down, was the view.
Not the view of the ocean, but the view on deck.
Specifically of his fiancee, and her choice of garments for this trip.
Julie was currently wearing a bikini emblazoned with the Australian flag, the blues and reds and whites all working together to form an image less enticing than the image of the person it was intended to cover.
He shifted in his chair, not taking his eyes off her.
“Ben,” she said, “I’m up here.”
He smiled, a goofy open-mouthed grin. “Sorry. I — I really like that swimsuit.”
“You like all of my swimsuits.”
He nodded. Nothing I can say to that.
“Did you hear me?” she asked.
“About your swimsuits?”
“About what you’re thinking,” she said.
He laughed. “I was thinking about your swimsuits,” he said.
She smiled back from behind large, oval-shaped sunglasses. “Well, besides that. What’s on your mind?”
He shrugged, looking once again at the endless expanse of blue. “I don’t know. Nothing, really. Just enjoying it all.”
“Are you?”
He rolled to his side. “What do you mean? Do I not seem like I’m enjoying it here?”
Julie nodded. “You do, but you’re also… contemplative. You’re not usually lost in your own thoughts.”
He stopped and thought for a moment. She was right. But what am I thinking? He was confused about it as well. He was sitting on the deck of a massive cruise ship, luxurious and designed exclusively for his comfort and entertainment, with the woman of his dreams, and he wasn’t able to feel completely satisfied.
“I… I just feel like there’s something else.”
“Something else?”
He frowned. “I mean like there’s something missing.”
It was Julie’s turn to laugh. “Ben, you’re in the middle of an ocean on a floating 5-star hotel with free food. What else could there be?”
“I know, I know,” he said. “It’s not that. This — all of this — is amazing. And you’re here. It’s not the trip, I guess.”
“What is it?”
He looked over at her. “Life?”
“Life?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Sorry Ben, I’m not sure I understand your meaning.”
He sensed a bit of hostility in her voice — a warning shot. Say what I think you’re saying and we’re going to have a fight.
He tried to backpedal. “No, it’s not about you at all.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Seriously,” he said. “I love you. That hasn’t changed. But think about where I was two years ago. We had never met, and I was living in a cabin and chasing bears out of campsites.”
Ben had spent the entirety of his adult life as a ranger at Yellowstone National Park. It had been a perfect fit for him, a naturally reclusive and isolated individual. When a terrorist threat forced his hand, he and Juliette Richardson had been pushed together to find out what had happened and clean up the mess.
They had grown close and then fallen in love, and their adventures together had taken them from Yellowstone to the Amazon rainforest, then to Antarctica and a quick tour of United States Midwest. It wasn’t a life Ben could have ever imagined, and while he felt proud of his accomplishments over the past year and a half, there was still… something.
“You want to go back to Yellowstone? Keep chasing bears?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes it seems to have some appeal.”
“I get that, Ben,” Julie said, still laying back while the sun bathed her body. Her head was leaned over, facing Ben, and he could see the outline of her large eyes through the dark ovals of her sunglasses. “But everyone has to grow up.”
“Grow up?” he asked. He raised an eyebrow, squinted with his other eye. It was a look she would know well.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it like that. But still, everyone changes,” she said.
“Maybe I don’t change.”
She smiled. “You certainly change less than anyone I’ve ever met. And that’s what I love about you. But still — don’t you agree that it’s time to move on from the ‘strong silent type?’”
He sat up, looked out at the water, then turned to his fiancee. “I’m sorry,” he said. “What’s wrong with the ‘strong silent type?’ and more importantly, why do I need to change?”
She shook her head. “You’re not getting the point. You don’t need to change, but that doesn’t mean you won’t. Everyone does, Ben, it’s the natural order of things.”
“Well what am I supposed to change into, then?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Ben. But you can’t just keep moping all the time. We’re supposed to be relaxing. Enjoying ourselves. We’re getting married in two months, Ben, and you haven’t even thought to ask me how the wedding planning is going.”
He was beginning to get a little frustrated. After all, he had been the one to bring this all up in the first place, and now she was making their little spat about something else entirely. He didn’t ask about the wedding plans because he didn’t care — he just wanted to marry her, and he didn’t care how it all happened. And besides, she was enjoying it. She loved this sort of thing, so he stayed out of her way.
He sighed, reaching down for his drink. It was something with rum in it, a large cornucopia of at least two different liquors, three different fruit juices, and a lot of ice.
A lot of ice.
He stared at the melting pot of booze and fruit juice and mostly ice and sighed again. He felt the frustration growing again as he thought back to his earlier conversation with Julie, which had led to an argument about money. She had wanted these fancy cocktails, but he hadn’t been enthused about the nearly twenty-dollar price tag for a bucket of ice with some flavor thrown in. She had argued that they weren’t really paying for them anyway, that the drinks — like everything else — were on the company’s tab, and that he should forget about it and focus on just relaxing.
“I can’t relax,” he finally said.
“Yeah, we all know that,” she said. “Anyone who’s ever met you. We know.”
“Well, I wish I could. That’s all,” he said. He was still sitting up, still rotating the slush around in his drink, waiting for a cruise employee to walk by and ask him for a refill.
“I wish you could, too,” Julie said. She laid back down on the lounge chair and stared straight up into the sun. It was just past noon, and the deck was hopping with just about every passenger on the boat. Kids splashed and yelled in one of the three pools, while adults and teens vied for a spot in one of the four hot tubs situated around the perimeter of the deck.
And there were two more decks similar to this one, one at the front of the ship and one near the stern, both up one level. He had been amazed at the size of the place when they’d first embarked, and the novelty hadn’t yet worn off. Julie had caught him more than once staring up at light fixtures and the elaborate ceiling decorations with his mouth
hanging open.
“This isn’t about you, is it?” Julie asked.
He looked over at her. She wasn’t looking back at him, but he shook his head anyway. “No, I guess it’s not.”
“Well you’d better figure out what you’re going to do about it, Ben,” she said. “We’re on a boat in the middle of the ocean. You can’t change anything here.”
He stood up, stretched, and left his fiancée basking in the sun as he went to find a drink refill.
6
HE BALANCED THE DRINK ON the edge of the counter with one hand as he waited for the bartender to give him the check. The thing was inside of a real pineapple, full of rum and juice and all sorts of sweet things. An extra-long toothpick poked through two slices of orange, a banana, and a maraschino cherry before plunging into the wide, open top of the pineapple.
Ridiculous, he thought.
Ben had only wanted a Rum Runner, a tiki drink made with rum and banana and usually a type of liqueur like blackberry. It was sweet, fruity, and felt summery, and he liked them. But the drink he was holding now seemed more like the centerpiece at a tropical wedding than a drink. The straw even spun a loop once, and he knew he would be throwing away the cute purple umbrella lodged into the side of the thing long before he brought the drink up to his mouth.
He signed for the drink, turned back to the side of the ship he and Julie had been lounging on, and stopped.
What the…
Julie was talking to a man. Her head was thrown back, her knees touching one another as she laughed at whatever it was the man had said.
The man was out of sight, his head blocked by the floor of the deck right above them, so Ben took a few larger strides and came out from underneath the balcony. He felt a pang of jealousy as Julie laughed, wondering who in the world she was —
