Peripheral Visions: Here We Are

Peripheral Visions: They coalesce in the soft blur of darkest shadows and take shape in the corner of your eye. But you won't see them coming... until it's too late.

Here We Are

"Do you see this?"

Josh must have asked out of shock, or because he doubted his own eyes. Darren couldn't answer him at first, too frightened to find his voice.

The two had left home early that morning and driven an hour into one of the most rural parts of the state, where the national park awaited with its lush forest and network of trails. They had lost no time in climbing into the park's mountains. The small town where they had parked was nothing but a cluster of toy-like buildings: A cluster of large white buildings, a scattering of smaller, multi-colored homes, and, rising above everything else, a few church steeples – one red, two black, one green.

But the town had vanished in a curtain of blinding white light that had appeared in the sky overheard and then expanded, moving down all around them in a silent, terrifying erasure.

Darren felt Josh grab his hand. "Are we gonna die?" Josh asked his husband, his eyes wide and terrified.

Darren knew what Josh was asking. Russia had been rattling its saber recently, its deranged dictator threatening Western powers with increasingly aggressive rhetoric that suggested he was prepared – if not eager – to unleash that country's nuclear arsenal against the rest of the world.

America had once had presidents capable of handling such crises, but not any longer. The current occupant of the Oval Office was a would-be dictator himself and had started his political career as an ardent defender of Russian's iron-fisted policies – policies that the president's die-hard supporters also touted, claiming they were a defense of "freedom." Darren had never understood what sort of freedom was defended when a government began prosecuting its own journalists, detaining its own people en masse, and jailing activists who dared to speak up for the disenfranchised and the persecuted.

The jingoism of the far right had changed, though, when the president had abruptly decided that Russia's leader was working against him. Now Russia was back to being the world's bogeyman, an evil, repressive state – at least, in the eyes of another evil, repressive state. What had once been two superpowers were now both reduced to second-world status, while India and China ruled supreme in global affairs.

And now... was Josh right? Was Russian making good on its threat with a nuclear strike?

"I don't know," Darren answered. Josh grabbed him in a tight, fearful hug, and Darren hugged him back. "Just hold on," Darren whispered. "Just hold on to me..."

If we die, we die together. Words that Darren had said to Josh, and Josh had said to Darren, for years now, as America changed around them from the Land of the Free to a shithole country that punished people for trying to do the right thing, or for daring to disagree, or for having the courage to love openly. Darren had expected that the day would come when those words would come true at the hands of one squad of extremists or another, but he had been prepared for their executioners to be fellow Americans, not Russia shooting off its nuclear arsenal in a spasm of rage and paranoia.

The two men stood, trembling in each other's arms. Josh began sobbing. Darren held him, tried to soothe him. At least they were dying together...

Except – they weren't. No shockwave pulverized them; no wall of flame incinerated them. A full minute passed. Darren had squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for annihilation; now he opened them and looked around.

The light had faded – had retreated, actually; the blinding, stark-white curtain of brightness was still there, but it seemed to be receding. Darren could see the distant village emerging from the light, which almost seemed like a solid wall as it raced away. Darren looked in the opposite direction. All he saw there was the slope of the mountain. He looked in all other directions, as well; to the East, up the valley, the wall of light was also receding. To the West, the light had already slipped beyond and behind another distant mountain slope.

"I... I don't think we're being nuked," he said. "Look, the village is still there."

Josh looked up, his eyes wet. He, too, looked in all directions. "What's happening?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe an electrical storm of some kind? Maybe ball lightning?"

"We'd have to be inside a pretty big ball of lightning," Josh said. Still trembling, he wiped his nose with the back of his wrist, then looked at Darren. "We should get back home," he said.

The two men turned back the way they'd come and started retracing their steps. Darren thought to pull out his phone and check for alerts or new notifications, but he saw nothing; the phone's screen was black. It had shut down. Darren slowed, stopped, and stood in place. He pressed his thumb against the power switch and waited.

"It must have been some kind of electrical phenomenon," he said, as John backtracked and stood next to him, staring down at the phone. "I think it fried my phone."

Josh dug out his own phone; it, too, showed only a blank, black screen. Josh pressed the power button as Darren had done, but the phone did not light up.

"They're both cooked," Josh said.

"But we're not," Darren said.

"Ball lighting," Josh said with a faint smile. "I mean... look. The trees are fine. The forest isn't burning. The churches are still standing." Josh gazed at the village below.

"All right," Darren said with a sigh. "Whatever it is, the world hasn't come to an end."

They started talking more after that, chattering with speculation about what had just happened, recounting the experience of thinking they were about to die.

"All I could think about was how crazy it was, how it didn't need to happen," Josh said. "That, and I was glad I was with you."

"Me too," Darren said. "I was glad we were together. Surprised the Christian nationalists weren't the ones getting us, but glad we were together."

Josh sighed. "I forgot about them for a minute," he said. "But, of course, they're probably going to say this was some sort of sign from God. Just like the hurricane last week in Florida was a sign from God."

"Which one?" Darren joked grimly, meaning: which hurricane?

The two men shared a sad laugh, each thinking the same thing: The people in Florida affected by the recent storms were wet and homeless, but at least, thanks to their governor, they were protected by law from having to endure any sensitivity workshops or sexual harassment training at work.

***

The car was where they had left it, but – like their phones – it was dead.

"Shit," Darren said. It had occurred to him during the hike down the trail that this might be the case. "Guess we'll have to walk to town."

"It's not that far..." Josh reached back to where his pack sat on the back seat, unfastened a strap, and then reached inside and rummaged through the pack. He pulled out a sandwich wrapped in a plastic bag. "Maybe we should have a little lunch first, before we keep walking."

That turned out be a good idea; the village wasn't that far by car, but on foot, and with the anxiety of whatever was going on, it seemed much further away.

At last, the men came into town. They walked past houses, then commercial buildings. "Sardo's supermarket," Josh said. "They look closed."

"Probably everyone went home," Darren said. "Everyone's still so scared after last year's bombings..."

A string of bombings had targeted stores, bars, clubs, and churches. The terrorist strike had been well-coordinated, taking place within a single hour in six cities across the country. To this day no one knew who was responsible or why they'd done it. Josh had observed that one drawback to "starving the beast," as proponents of reducing government put it, was that a starved government couldn't protect anyone... except, of course, business interests. Somehow, as the terror investigations went nowhere, Congress managed to ram through another tax cut for corporations and for the rich.

Darren and Josh walked on. The streets were eerily silent and deserted. Finally, they stood before a firehouse.

"Wouldn't a police station be better? Or maybe a gas station?" Josh asked.

"Here's where we get some answers first," Darren said.

It was a hot September day and it had gotten hotter as afternoon came on. The fire station's main garage was open, its engines sitting at the ready. It was a commonplace sight... except that no firemen lounged on the lawn chairs set out on the concrete in front of the fire station's massive garage doors.

Darren walked up to the garage as Josh hung back. "Hello!" he shouted into the building. "Hey, anyone here?"

There was no response.

"What the hell?" Josh muttered.

"I'm going inside," Darren said.

"Why don't we – " Josh didn't finish the sentence; Darren had already disappeared. A few minutes later he re-emerged, shaking his head.

"I don't know," he answered Josh's questioning look. "No one's inside."

"Think they all went home too?"

Daren shook his head. "Let's see if we can find the police station," he said.

They didn't find it – not until much later, after they had spent days exploring the town. They did make their way to more stores, to restaurants and bars, and they even went to one of the churches, thinking thar frightened residents might have gathered there to pray.

But there was no one in any of those places. The village was empty except for them.

"Where is everyone?" Josh asked Darren, but Darren had no answer for him.

They checked car doors to see if one might be unlocked, if keys might have been left dangling in ignitions. They found a few – all of them sitting in the middle of streets, near intersections where dangling streetlights silently flashed their cycles of red, green, and yellow. None of the cars had drivers, and none of them would start.

The two men stood in the street after their last fruitless attempt to commandeer a car. There didn't seem to be an obvious next move.

"This is like a film," Josh said. "A scary film."

"A stupid film," Darren snapped. Then he shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said.

"It's okay," Josh said. "I'm scared shitless."

"I'm not scared," Darren said – and he wasn't; the thought of an empty world troubled him less than the world they had been enduring. Once other people showed up, they were likely to do any sort of stupid shit, justify any sort of malicious action by citing the day's strange events. But that was in the future, and for the moment Darren was pondering how to get back home... an hour's drive away, with no working vehicles.

Finally, he looked at Josh and said, "I know you hate stuff like this, but..."

"Stuff like what?"

"Trespassing. Bothering people. But I think we need to find a place to settle in. A house. Some place with food, some place we can sleep."

"And get shot as looters?"

"If and when the National Guard come in we'll explain that we're miles away from home and we're not looting. We're just... sheltering in place. What else are we supposed to do?"

"Yeah, I guess," Josh said. "Though with our luck it'll be the one house in town where there's still someone at home. And this being New Hampshire, we're gonna get shot for housebreaking."

"Like getting shot isn't something we have to worry about even in our own house these days," Darren said.

***

The house they chose was red and sat on its own parcel of land at the edge of town. There was an unobstructed view of the road, and a long driveway that led up to the property. Darren judged it a good find.

"Two bathrooms," Darren said, after they'd done a quick room-by-room check to verify that nobody was there.

"That's a plus," Josh sighed. He had dropped into the couch. "No power here, either, but at least there's water."

"Yeah, and speaking of – get up. We have stuff to do," Darren told him.

"Like what?"

"Fill the bathtub in one of the bathrooms. Fill any jars or pitchers you find."

"Why?"

"If this... lack of people... is widespread, and if it continues, how long do you think we're going to have running water?"

"Good thinking," Josh said, getting up.

"I lie awake at night, thinking about how we'll respond in the first moments of a siege," Darren said from the kitchen, as he rummaged for suitable containers.

"A siege?" Josh called from the smaller of the two bathrooms.

"Evangelical militiamen showing up at our door."

"Ah, the kill squads."

"Or Russia firing its nukes at us. Or..." Darren rolled his eyes skyward, though Josh, in the other room, couldn't see it. "Ball lightning."

"Yeah," Josh laughed, as water splashed into the tub. "That one had me worried, too."

***

The water stayed on for most of the following day. By the time it gave out, Darren and Josh had explored other nearby houses, finding jugs and coolers and filling them with water. They'd also taken the opportunity to shower.

"At least we're nice and clean," Josh said after trying a tap in one of the houses they were searching for food. The tap gave a gasp, but no water poured out.

"And at least we found a few coolers to fill with ice and stuff from refrigerators," Darren said.

Josh looked at a red cooler sitting on the kitchen floor near the now-silent refrigerator. "The house where we found that cooler," he began.

"Yeah?"

"Well, while you were raiding the fridge, I leaned against the wall. You know, the kitchen with the brick?"

"And the sliding glass door leading to the big patio?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Well, I leaned on the brick wall, and it broke."

"The brick broke?" Darren grinned at the nursery rhyme sound of the two words said together.

"It was weird. It was like... it was a brick façade."

"Then that's what it was."

"But, it wasn't. I mean... it was really fragile. Like, you wouldn't build a house out of something like that. It would collapse."

"They did shitty, cheap job of remodeling," Darren said.

"Or..." Josh hesitated.

"Or?"

"Or else that light we saw maybe weakened the wall. I mean, like – what if it... you know, destroyed all the people?"

"Destroyed them how?"

"Burned them up. Vaporized them."

"How?"

"That's what I'm saying. Obviously, the town didn't burn down, but... what if, like, the light dissolved the people and did something to change the houses? The construction material in the houses, I mean?"

Darren crossed the room and put his hand against the far wall. It was a load-bearing wall, located across the room from a breakfast bar. An oven was built into it. Darren pushed hard – and the plaster broke, a large section giving way under his hand.

"Yeah," Josh said. "Like that."

Darren looked at the oven, then turned and rummaged in a drawer. "I thought I saw one somewhere," he muttered. He looked in another drawer. "Here." He produced an oven mitt, then, with a flourish, drew it over his hand. Stepping to the oven, he took aim at the metal door and swung his mitt-sheathed fist.

The metal gave in with a soft crunch.

"You see what I mean?" Josh said. "The walls, even the metal, are too flimsy. That light must have done something to them."

"And dissolved people? How?"

"That's what I mean. I don't know."

"But... the food in the cupboards, the meat in the refrigerators, it all seems fine," Darren protested.

"We won't know that until we eat it," Josh said.

"No, what I mean is, if people... basically, meat... somehow dissolved in the light, then wouldn't meat in the fridge, too? Or in tins?"

"Except that meat was in the fridge, or in a tin."

"Okay, let's say all it takes is a little aluminium or a fridge door to block the effects of the light. Someone somewhere in this town must have been in a closet, or a basement, or someplace shielded from the light. If a tin of tuna fish can be fine, why not a person sleeping in the back of a van or something?"

"I don't know. It's just... that light, everyone's gone, the walls are weak. It all has to be connected."

"Think maybe we should see if we can find a stronger house?" Darren asked.

"That might not be a bad idea."

***

Josh woke up, gasping with fear.

Nights had been darker since the day of the lightning. The moon was still waxing, shining more light over the nighttime landscape each evening, but somehow the shadows seemed blacker, thicker, colder.

Days were uniformly bright; there were no clouds, and the sky was a clear, unnatural blue.

But there was lightning tonight.

"It is back?" Josh asked, seeing Darren already awake and staring out the window.

Darren turned. "It's just regular lightning, I think."

They listened; there was no thunder.

"Must be a long way off," Darren said.

"Maybe we'll get some rain," Josh said, settling back into the bed. Josh joined him. They fell into each other's embrace, then Josh turned over and Darren held him close, their bodies spooning together.

"Are you getting hard?" Josh asked his husband,

"Hmm. Maybe."

"Really?"

"In spite of all the trauma and terror and adrenaline. Yep. Or maybe because of all that." Darren nuzzled Josh, who couldn't help laughing. "Seriously, you wanna? In a strange house?"

"Come on," Darren coaxed. "The whole world is strange. Are we gonna let that ruin our fun?"

***

Days went by. The lightning they had seen did not bring clouds; the skies stayed bright and flawlessly blue. The moon reached a brilliant, full roundness and then began to erode again. No one – not evangelical militias, not National Guardsmen, no one – showed up. The streets remained silent. By day, the two of them explored the town, surveyed houses, stacked supplies in boxes and then left the boxes in place, unsure of where they might end up. They agreed they needed to find a new residence, but they seemed spoiled for choice: None of the walls seemed weak in the houses they surveyed and tested.

"Just those two houses, huh?" Darren reflected aloud.

"So far," Josh said.

"But if there are only two, how did we manage to find them both?"

"If it's something about us," Josh pointed out, "then why aren't all the houses we looked at showing the same weaknesses?"

"There must be some other commonality," Darren said thoughtfully. "Something that might help explain what the hell is going on."

"You know..." Josh hesitated.

"Another theory?" Darren asked him.

"Not really. I was just wondering, what if it's this way everywhere? The whole state. The whole East Coast. California. England. Europe. Even Russia."

"You don't think this is the result of a Russian death ray?"

"Be serious," Josh said.

"No, I mean it. What if our first thought was actually correct, only Russia wasn't using nukes?"

"Then," Josh sighed, "I guess sooner or later we'll have Russian neighbors moving in. But meantime, how is it we are the only ones who escaped the ball lighting?"

"There have to be others," Darren said.

"Then where are they?"

"They have to be out there," Darren said.

***

Darren was right: There were others. The strange thing was, the ones who found them were all children.

Junie arrived first. They heard her crying as they checked more cars downtown, in the streets near the supermarket and then the supermarket's parking lot.

"Is that a kid?" Josh asked.

They listened intently.

"I think she's in the store," Darren said.

They hadn't gone into the supermarket yet. They had focused on the houses, thinking that foodstuffs would be waiting for them in the market when they needed them. Why expend the effort? As they entered the dark, abandoned expanse, Darren shuddered, glad that they had put off coming into the place: It was creepy, echoing with their movements, filled with ominous shadows. The back of the store, away from the windows at the front, seemed cavernous, darkness making it seem sinister.

The crying had subsided; now it started up again, filling the huge interior space.

"Hey?" Darren called gently.

The crying stopped again.

"Hey," Darren called. "Are you all right? Can you come and find me?"

There was no response.

"The kid's probably scared," Josh whispered.

"Hey," Darren tried again. "We want to help you."

Silence.

Then Josh spoke up. "Well, gosh," he said, less gently than Darren. His voice almost sounded jocular. "I thought we were gonna make a new friend. I guess we just have to go on being lonesome." He sounded almost like a cartoon, Darren thought, or a clown. He stayed quiet and let his husband continue the patter; Josh had always been good with kids.

"I hate being lonely," Josh went on. "And this stupid store doesn't have any power. All the ice cream is melted. And there's no meat!"

That was true, Darren reflected; they'd expected the place to stink to high heaven after so long, but it didn't. The meat section was empty. There was nothing there to go rotten.

"There's nothing in here that's good to eat," Josh was lamenting in his cartoonish voice. "Nothing!"

There was a moment of silence.

"I guess I'm gonna die of hunger if I don't die of lonesomeness first," Josh said.

"There's cereal," a tiny voice said from somewhere in the darkness.

"There is?" Josh asked, is voice now lifting with an exaggerated note of hope. "What kind?"

"All kinds!" the voice answered.

"Really?"

"Yes!" Now the child was giggling.

"Chocolate? Vanilla?"

"Yes!" the voice said.

"I can't find it!" Josh said plaintively.

There was a rustling, and the sound of tiny footsteps. Then the child walked out of the shadow, holding a box of cereal in her arms.

"Is that for me?" Josh asked as the girl drew near.

She nodded.

"Is it any good?"

"It's my favorite!" the girl declared.

Josh held out a hand and, instead of handing over the cereal, the girl grabbed it with her own.

Darren had put Josh off for years about the question of becoming parents. From that moment, though, he knew without question that they were parents now. The world – what was left of it – suddenly seemed just as changed, just as newly strange, as it had on the day of the ball lightning.

***

Junie didn't have anything to tell them that they didn't know. She described being with her mother at home and then seeing a bright light. When the light faded, she was on the road at the outskirts of town. From there, she had made her way to the supermarket.

Darren and Josh glanced at each other as she told the story. Obviously, other things had happened in between times. Was she too traumatized to remember? Where had her mother gone?

They started with a less abstract question. "How long have you been there?" Josh asked her.

"Just this morning," Junie answered him.

"Okay," Josh said, giving Darren a look that pleaded with him not to press the child for details she didn't seem to have.

They took Junie home, made sure she wasn't suffering any injuries, and prepared a bedroom in the new house they had selected. Junie helped Josh make dinner using the barbecue in the back yard. The barbecue was handy as a substitute for a stove, though it burned through canisters of propane at an annoyingly fast rate. Josh cooked a tin of peas, a tin of corn, and opened a tinned ham.

Junie told them she was seven. She talked about her family – her mother and father, a sister, two brothers, and a cat. She seemed to have no idea where they were.

"Do you live in this town?" Josh asked her.

"I live in Madison," Junie said.

"New Hampshire?"

"No!" Junie giggled. "Wisconsin!"

"Well, of course!" Josh said, as if surprised at himself. He gave Darren a quick, puzzled glance. "How did you get here?"

"I don't know. I don't think this is Madison."

"No, it's not," Josh said. "So, how does a cute little Junie-bug end up here when she started in Madison?"

Junie shrugged. "Magic," she said. Then: "Do you think my mom will come?"

"Maybe," Josh said. "We'll make sure to keep you safe until she does."

But Darren doubted Mom would be along. It had been almost a month since the day of the ball lightning.

They had been living off bottled water for most of that time. Two days after finding June, though, their worries about water were over; looking for a more suitable house, they found one where the water still ran from the taps.

"Must have its own well," Darren said to himself, watching the water pour into the kitchen sink. The tap had been dripping, or he'd never have tried turning it on; now he wondered how many other homes in the town might also have their own wells.

Darren examined the water as it poured out. It seemed clear. He leaned over toward the tap and sniffed. Then he found a glass, filled it, and turned off the tap. Turning the glass, examining it, he saw no sediment or discoloration.

"Too good to be true," he muttered to himself.

Darren smelled the water again, then raised the glass to his lips for a careful taste.

"This place is great," Josh said, stepping in the kitchen, tugging Junie along by the hand. "It's got, like, eight bedrooms."

"Are we gonna move here?" Junie asked excitedly.

"She already found the room she wants," Josh said.

"I think this might just be a great place to settle in." Darren hoisted the glass of water at Josh and raised it to his lips again.

"Where did you get that?" Josh asked.

"From the tap," Darren told him.

"And you're drinking it?"

Darren sipped gingerly; he rolled the droplet in his mouth, then grinned at his husband. "It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

Darren drank the whole glass, then refilled it and drank again. "It's fine, it's good."

"What if it's not?"

Darren grinned. "Then I guess we'll find out."

***

Darren didn't die, as Josh dourly predicted he would; he didn't get sick; nothing bad happened. Finally, Josh, too, began drinking the water from the tap.

"How does the water get here from the well with no power for a pump?" he asked.

"I don't think that's how it works," Darren said. "The water in the pipes draws more water after it when you turn on the tap."

"No, the water in the pipe draws more water after it when you start the flow of water by pumping it," Josh said. "In the old days they used to pump by hand. Haven't you ever seen old movies?"

Darren shrugged. "This is a modern pump, though. Maybe it's solar powered, or... I don't know. I mean, whatever; it's working. And I'll tell you something, it's nice to have a shower again. And it's nice when you have a shower." Darren grinned. "I bet you could even do laundry if you wanted."

Josh rolled his eyes. "I already forage for food and do the cooking. Do your own damn laundry," he said.

***

A few weeks after Junie's arrival, Ben came wandering up the street of their new neighborhood. He paused in front of the house, watching Darren, Josh, and Junie as they made dinner in the back yard, and called out to them. He was older than Junie – around twelve. He told them later that he had followed the smell of their dinner cooking on the barbecue. His story was similar to Junie's: He and his father had been running an errand for his mother, who needed a few things from the store. Mom had dispatched the two of them to the store. They had been driving in his father's pickup when a bright light blotted out the world. Ben expected the truck to crash, or perhaps to be lifted into the air and then smashed down; he'd seen movies where aliens used destructive energy rays to conquer the Earth, and they all featured scenes of blinding light hurling cars and trucks like toys.

But the next thing he knew, he said, he was on the road just at the edge of town.

"When did this happen?" Josh asked the boy, trying to be discreet as he looked him over for cuts, bruises, or any other trace of injury or illness.

"Like, a couple of hours ago," the boy said.

Josh and Darren glanced at each other, frowning.

"Ben," Darren said gently, "we saw the same thing, only it was six weeks ago."

The boy considered that, looking puzzled. Then: "Where are we?" he asked.

"New Hampshire."

"Okay," the boy said, still looking puzzled.

"Why? Where do you live?"

"California," Ben told them.

***

Four more children found their way to Darren and Josh. There was Alice appeared three months after Ben; she was fifteen and angry. When she wasn't screaming at Darren, Josh, or the other kids, she was sobbing on her bed. That phase lasted for a couple of weeks, after which she became much calmer, but also quiet and withdrawn. She seemed sad, Darren thought. He didn't blame her. She had a younger sister, whom she spoke about needing to protect from their mother, who spent her time either drinking or praying. Either way, she neglected the girls, and Alice was the one who found food for the family. Darren and Josh didn't have the heart to pry for more specifics.

About a month after Alice arrived, another boy found his way to them. Trevor, like Alice, was 17; Alice instantly attached herself to him, though he shook her off in irritation. Darren thought some sort of adolescent crush was happening. Finally, ten days after Trevor arrived, Alice left him alone. When Darren asked about it gently, Alice grew angry again – for an instant it was like her old self was back. "He's gay!" she screamed.

Darren told her that whether Trevor was gay or not didn't matter, and pointed out that he and Josh were gay, too.

"Yeah," Alice said, sulking, "but you're old."

A week after that, they found another girl wandering around downtown, near one of the churches. Josh, struck by the thought that maybe her family was in the church, ran into the building, shouting. He walked back slowly, shaking his head. He, Darren, and Trevor had been surveying the town's shops for various supplies and intended to make a run to the supermarket for more food – cereal, crackers, meats and vegetables in tins. The girl, whose name was Zoe, refused to speak until they brought her back to the house, where Alice was watching the younger kids. The moment Alice and Zoe caught sight of each other there was a flurry of screaming. Startled by the outburst, it wasn't until the two girls were hugging and sobbing that Darren and Josh realized Zoe was the younger sister Alice had talked about.

"Her sister?" Josh mused. "There's got to be some pattern to this."

"You mean other than girl, boy, girl, boy, and now girl?" Darren asked.

"Arriving at random times, and all of them various random ages," Josh said. "And, until now, all from different states."

"But all from the U.S.," Darren said.

"For what that's worth," Josh said.

The last two – a boy, Adam, who was 16, and a girl, Anita, who was ten – rounded out the family. After that, though they simultaneously watched anxiously for more new arrivals and wondered how they would supervise and care for their makeshift family if it grew any larger, Darren and Josh had no more children show up needing to be looked after.

***

"They grow up so fast," Josh marveled jokingly. Three years had gone by since the last of the children had shown up. Now the two oldest boys, Trevor and Adam, had determined that they needed a house of their own. They had also announced, several months earlier, that they were in love. The previous week, they had requested that Darren marry them.

"Why not me?" Josh had asked them, half seriously. "I can pronounce you man and husband just as well as he can."

"You can give me away," Adam said, grinning.

Josh and Darren carried boxes of supplies gathered from town into Trevor and Adam's new home – the same house Josh and Darren had spent their first days in after the world had changed.

And the world had stayed changed. There was no more lighting, no more rain, and no more clouds. There were no more seasons, either. Every day was the same bright, hot, summery day all over again, just as it had been on the day of the lightning. Only the moon above, going through its usual phases, let them know that months and years were still going by.

Darren followed Josh into the kitchen and set his box of goods down. The boys were upstairs, inspecting their new bedroom, stomping up and down the hall and yelling to each other in happy, excited voices. The rest of the kids were trailing behind Darren, most of them dawdling in the yard, bearing boxes of their own and chattering among themselves. It had been a big day – Trevor and Adam's wedding day. No one begrudged them their happiness, not even Alice... though Darren had chided Alice quietly after hearing her remark that she hoped Ben, now 15, would grow up to be straight.

"I need a husband," Alice pushed back.

"Don't you think that who he marries is up to him? And isn't it a little early to be thinking of him in those terms?"

"What terms?" Alice asked. "I read those Laura Ingalls Wilder books you guys assigned for school. He's not too young at all."

"Maybe not for the 1800s," Darren said. "But – "

"Grow up, Dad," Alice said. She was the only one who called him that. Ben called Josh Dad sometimes, but otherwise the kids called Darren and Josh by their names. Darren liked it better than he thought he would; he liked that Alice confided in him, asked his advice, and seemed to respect him even though she also made fun of him and Josh. "We're not kids, you know."

Darren was still thinking about that. She's right, he told himself, they're not kids, not like we were at their ages; god, this is like the Bible story about Noah's family being the only survivors of the flood... He lost his train of thought when his eye fixed on something strange.

"Josh," Darren said.

Josh had set his box down and was starting back toward the front door to herd the lagging kids.

"Josh!"

"What?" Josh came back into the kitchen.

"Will you look at this?"

Josh looked where Darren was looking. "The oven? What about it?"

Darren shook his head.

"You know, these guys are gonna need a barbecue of their own," Josh said. "But unless we find a new supply of propane..."

"Josh!" Darren pointed.

"Yeah, I see it," Josh said.

"It's not broken."

"Well it doesn't work, either," Josh said.

"Don't you remember? I broke the fucking thing!"

Josh stared at the oven. It was in perfect order, except for the fact that, like all electrical appliances, it had no power to run on. Then his face changed.

"Oh my god," he said. "Was it this house?"

"Yeah. Of course it was."

Josh looked around. "But it can't be. You punched a hole in the wall – right over there – "

"I didn't punch it," Darren said. "I just leaned on it."

"Whatever. It's fixed now. I mean, not even fixed. It doesn't look like it was ever..."

"What are you two yelling about?" Ben stared at them, standing in the kitchen door with his box.

"Is that upstairs stuff?" Josh asked. "Take it upstairs to your brothers."

Ben scoffed. "If they're my brothers, then they're also each other's brothers. But they just got married. Yuck!"

"Yeah, they're not brothers anymore, they're husbands," Josh called after Ben, who was tromping across the living room and toward the stairs. The other kids were filing into the house now with their boxes. Josh set about directing them to their various destinations.

Darren stared at the walls, trying to work it out. His imagination took over: He remembered the day of the ball lightning, remembered the light in the sky, the wall of brightness that retreated slowly, revealing the village below building by building...

Building by building.

Concepts flashed through his mind. It didn't feel like his own imagination. It felt like someone speaking to him in symbols and ideas.

"3-D printing," Darren murmured. "They replicated the village... they replicated everything... and brought us... here..."

"What's that?" Josh asked, coming back into the kitchen.

"They brought us here," Darren said.

"Who?"

"I don't know. Aliens? I think?"

Josh stared at him.

"This whole town – it's a reproduction. They printed it, or... or replicated it, like on that show you used to watch. You know, with the bald captain and the Earl Grey tea."

"What?" Josh leaned forward, gazing at Darren with his Nurse Look. Josh had been a physician's assistant until the laws were passed that banned gay people from the medical professions, and Josh had to seek work as a veterinary assistant.

"Don't look at me like that," Darren said. "I'm having an... epiphany."

"I'm worried you're having a stroke."

"This is the very same house where I put a hole in the wall and crumpled the oven door," Darren said. "But they fixed it. And now..." Darren struck the wall with the side of his fist, hard enough to make a loud thump. The wall didn't break. "See?"

"I don't..."

"They must have re-printed the whole town. That night we saw the lightning. It was the same thing, only smaller... they were tweaking the environment they prepared for us."

"Aliens made a... a what? A terrarium for us?"

"And then they brought the kids." Darren nodded to himself. "No wonder there was only one house in town with running water: The house with enough rooms for all of us. And now..." Darren reached over and turned the cold water tap on the kitchen faucet.

Fresh, clean water poured into the sink.

"That wasn't working before," Josh said.

Darren and Josh met each others' eyes. "They maneuvered us right to where they wanted us," Darren said.

Josh blew out a breath. "I mean... that's your theory?"

"You have a better one?" Darren was growing excited by his theory. "It makes sense. Did you ever wonder why the supermarket never smelled like rotting meat?"

"Because there was no fresh meat," Josh said.

"No, nor fresh diary, or anything else."

"Because all the biological matter disintegrated in the light," Josh said, reverting to his favorite theory.

"Because the town they printed up for us didn't need any fresh meat of vegetables," Darren countered. "They followed the blueprints for one of our towns, but they only synthesized the supplies it made sense to provide. Food that would last for years. Stuff in tins."

Josh still looked skeptical. "They bring us here with the light; they 3-D print a village stocked with houses and roads and food with the same light..." A look of horror came over him. "Did they 3-D print us, too? Are we even real?"

"What do you mean?"

"They could have just made copies of the people they were interested in."

Darren shrugged. "Fine, but I don't think I feel like a copy. Do you?"

"How would we know?"

"Maybe it doesn't matter," Darren said.

Josh turned that over in his mind. "So – what are we talking about, alien abduction? You, me... the kids?"

Darren and Josh stared at each other, their faces mirror images of wonder and fear.

"But why?" Josh asked. "Why us? Why only us?"

***

The manager watched on the shift-screen as the two humanoids conferred. He'd channeled a pathstream to the one who was speaking, trying to explain to his mate.

An observer walked in with a report.

"Leave it on the desk," the manager said, indicating with a cranial tentacle.

The observer put the report on the roughly table-like furnishing.

"Give me the report datapathically," the manager instructed.

"No change," the observer reported. "In each of the other 53 environments, the pairing, family unit, or communal group has greeted those we introduced with kindness and seen to their needs. In almost all cases, they have absorbed the newcomers into their ranks."

"This is true of the family persecuted for their mythology adherence?" the manager asked.

"You mean for their religion?" the observer asked.

"A bizarre Earth word," the manager said. "I don't understand it. But yes, I mean them."

"They are called 'Jews' on Earth. And when we introduced children from other groups – groups who also adhered to mythological belief systems, though different from that of the Jews – "

"Yes? Did they drink the blood of the juveniles?" the manager asked. "The broadcasts from Earth's governments are adamant that this is a practice of this particular myth-sect." The manager pathed gruesome images he'd mentally recorded from the Earth transmissions.

"Of course they did not," the observer pathed in reply. "I just told you that. They adopted the newcomers, cared for them. We noted the same result when we introduced newcomers to various other specific myth-sects."

"And apart from the myth-sects? For instance, when you introduced a lone male into the female collective?"

"They did not tear him into pieces as described by the newscasters. They gave him his own living area and allowed him to build a home. They then integrated him into their society. He has married four of them."

"Married?" the manager inquired. That was a word that he had noted in some of the transmissions, but the materials he worked with had not translated it.

"He serves as a co-parent with the four women with whom he has mated and produced offspring." The observer looked into the shift-screen the manager had accessed. "I see you are taking note of events in Environment Four. The homosexual male couple."

"They, too, have demonstrated no malice or abusive treatment to the juveniles in their care," the manager told him. "It was you, was it not, who suggested we select two younger homosexual males to introduce to an environment of their own, as well as stocking similar environments with heterosexual couples?"

"Yes," the observer answered. "I thought it would be important to test the claims made against homosexual humans by the major governments and their media providers, just as we prepared tests for the various myth-sects and other groups."

"Am I correct in deducing that the results are largely consistent across different control groups?" the manager asked.

"It is as I predicted based on observations of the myth-sects, the gender collectives, and the environments with homogenous skin pigmentation," the observer detailed. "The mated males in Environment Four have tended to the juveniles much the same way the heterosexual couples in environments One, Eight, and Eleven have. They have made no attempt to obstruct, hasten, or alter the natural development of the young in their care. In other words, we observe parenting behavior – but no abusive behavior. In fact, we have noted abusive behavior in only one environment."

"Which?"

"Environment Seven."

"The myth-sect known as Orthovangicals? Whom did you introduce there?"

The observer's pathic link wavered in a mixture of hesitation and revulsion.

"Were the results disappointing?" the manager asked.

"Atrocious," the observer clarified. "We introduced three outsiders to that group: Two homosexual males of differing skin tones, and one woman with outward male physiology."

"What happened?" the manager inquired.

"All three were murdered. There was considerable disruption to the social mechanics of the environment, and some sort of power struggle. More murders followed – eleven in total."

"I see." The manager's link wavered as he sent a separate pathic command to a specialized work detail.

"Will you sterilize the environment?" the observer queried.

"Unnecessary," the manager responded. "I have instructed that the wranglers release them back onto the planet."

"Why?"

The manager turned to the observer. "Our observations are nearly complete; our report is all but finished. We know the recommendation we intend to make to the cultivators of this part of the galaxy. The natives of the planet in question have broadcast a steady stream of horrifying claims about minority populations. This latest report you have provided completes our data set. No matter how we have tested the claims made by the governments of Earth – whether the claims concern communities of different pigmentation, mythological adherence..."

"Religion," the observer corrected.

".... sexuality, innate gender identification, skin tone, or other trivial differentiations, we find the same conduct toward children. With adults considered by each isolated group to be outsiders, there is more friction – at first; but generally, adult outsiders, too, are eventually taken into the ranks of the families or societies in the environments. We see only a few exceptions, and those are from the demographics who have taken over the apparatus of government in most of the planet's individual nation-states. We believe the aggression we witness originating from these elements to be directly tied to their propensity for falsehood and accusations of fabricated outrages."

"In other words, their broadcasts are lies."

"Engineered lies, designed to create fear and provoke violent protective responses. Used also, we believe, to justify needless violence directed at vulnerable populations."

"We have seen this in other societies."

"Yes, species that failed. Species that self-destructed or had to be eradicated. But we also note redemptive qualities about this species: When allowed to act on their own innate impulses, almost all the groups accused of infanticide and other atrocities by the broadcasts show the same harboring and caretaking instincts toward their fellow beings, whether juveniles or adults."

"Do you intend to recommend the sterilization of the entire planet?" the observer asked.

"You know the criteria specified in the Viable Civilization Index." It was not a question.

"A respect for the rule of law," the observer recited. "A basic compassion for others of the same species. A demonstrated sense of stewardship for their environment..."

"High among those criteria is this: That they do not bear false witness against others," the manager pointed out. "But we have seen them do this, and often make accusations of atrocities that the accusers themselves have perpetrated or intend to perpetrate."

"I ask again: You will recommend the planet be sterilized?"

"The planet has reached a point of technological influence," the manager said. "They broadcast their falsehoods to the galaxy at large. Their lies are cunningly crafted. Do you trust them to be responsible neighbors? Do you trust them to join peacefully and in concordance with the galaxy's cultivators and protectors?"

"No," the observer answered. "They are clearly a malign influence."

"Then you see the reason for our recommendation."

At last, the observer had his answer. It was typical of managers not to answer straightforward questions in straightforward ways. Still, the observer felt a need to point something out. "But you say on their own, the different control groups demonstrate amity and protectiveness. You cited this as a redemptive quality for the species as a whole."

"That is true," the manager told him, "and that is why we intend to disseminate select members from those groups to suitable planets that are not as yet inhabited. The first colonies will consist of the inhabitants in the controlled environments. With guidance, this species could mature into an acceptable civilization. Several, in fact, as they develop across the worlds we have identified for their use."

"And their own world?"

"Badly misused, but not irreparable. It will take dociaries, but in time their home world, too, will be ready for new colonization, and then we will repatriate some of them."

The observer nodded. "Then this investigation is effectively complete?"

"Yes. We already have a new assignment waiting for us," the manager pathed. "A borderline species on a planet located three point eight parsecs from here..."

***

Back in their self-contained environment, Darren and Josh, joined by Trevor and Adam, stood on the road at the outskirts of town.

"Why did we never try this before?" Josh wondered.

Darren shrugged. "Because we were already in a place where we could survive, and we were busy surviving. And who knows? Maybe also because the aliens, whoever they are, influenced our minds so that we never tried walking home." Darren reached out until his hand encountered a soft, invisible barrier, as if the air itself had thickened. He pressed, hard; the air seemed to press back. Beyond the barrier, fields and road and forest stretched away, looking perfectly normal.

"A projection?" Josh asked.

"I guess."

"So what do we do?"

Darren looked at Josh, then at the two young men who had married each other earlier that day. "We get back to the others. Our family. Alice has probably burnt dinner by now."

Josh looked like he wanted to protest; he looked as though he thought there should be something more to say. Then he chuckled and nodded.

"Right," he said. "Right you are."

Next week we survey the story told by a man living on the other side of a crisis – a crisis that some, including a boyhood schoolmate, saw coming. A crisis he chose to ignore because of his privilege and status... and the fact that when he became a father, he had "Two Sons and a Daughter." Come back then and see why that matters.