words. Day in, day out various people were saying that, to no avail. Learned people, people in authority, officials were saying that, only to be drowned out like whispers in a thunderstorm.
No matter what single word he keyed in, it continued to exist as isolated as a pinpoint island in the middle of the ocean. Nothing followed. Nothing could logically follow. The screen remained blank.
Penny and Ryan came for Thanksgiving and although Ruth prepared a traditional feast which was as delicious as it always had been, there was an air of unease at the table. Laughter and banter, gaiety all seemed forced as if they were amateur actors in a poorly rehearsed play.
Serving pumpkin pie, Ruth asked Penny, “Is there something bothering you?”
Penny glanced at Ryan, and her forced smile vanished. She nodded. “Ryan talked to his folks about the holidays, to let them know we’d like to visit them over Christmas for a day or two.” She looked at Ryan again, then mumbled, “You tell them.”
He appeared as strained as she did. “Mother wanted to know if you two had your DNA sample done yet. If Penny had.”
“They don’t want me to come until I do it,” Penny said in a low voice.
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Mel said. “The whole thing is a hoax. Some bored teenager having himself a joke. They aren’t buying that crap, are they?”
Ryan nodded. “They are, and a lot of others are, too. Everyone born after 1940 eventually will be tested, DNA sampled. That lets my folks out.” He put his fork down. “Do you remember my brother Jack? He was at our wedding and the reception.”
Mel had a vague memory of him. Older than Ryan, receding hair, quiet. He nodded.
“He works in the state department,” Ryan said. “He hears things, knows things. He said the government is taking this seriously, testing people, lie-detector tests, trying to find a leak. He said whoever started this business has to be someone who knows, and has taken sophisticated steps to protect his identity, changing details here and there, but the gist of it is on the mark.”
Ruth gasped and made an involuntary gesture that knocked over her wine glass. Hurriedly she left the table and for a moment Mel thought it was to bring paper towels or something to soak up spilled wine, but she headed for the hallway to their bedroom. Before he could follow, she was already returning with her handbag. Ignoring the wine spreading on the table cloth, Ruth took a folded paper from her bag and handed it to him.
“This came yesterday,” she said.
It was a memo from the superintendent of schools. Mel scanned it quickly then read aloud the concluding sentence, “All personnel are required to submit a notarized copy of their DNA results to this office before the winter semester starts on January 4.”
Mel felt as if the world was fading, or he was fading from it and only gradually he became aware of Ryan’s voice again.
“It’s happening all through the government. No publicity yet. But it will get out and then it will be hell. It isn’t a kid in a basement playing games, but someone who knows too much. They’ll track him down and he’ll never be heard from again, that’s for sure. Psycholinguists are studying the text. Analyzing it. Educated, proper use of grammar, repetition of words, use of certain words over others. If the guy ever wrote a thing that was published, they’ll track him down that way. Apparently he used a code that included a lot of Cs, Ys, and Os. Twice it was CY, a number, then CO. Pronounce it,” he said. Then he did so, “C Y C O, psycho. He’s mocking them. They’ve put cameras on every mail drop box in New York City. Tracking purchases of paper and stamps. Investigating photocopy shops, train and plane trips to New York. They’ve pulled out the stops. They’ll find him and he’ll have a fatal accident or disappear exactly the same way all those people who saw aliens come to earth did.”
Mel didn’t know when he had sat down