My name is Max. These are the writings from my journal across the years spent in hiding with my closest friends in Inuvik, Canada. Beth, Spencer, and I were sent here covertly to protect us from the US Government Core, which we refer to as Core 2. Beth and I were directed to take on the identities of two individuals on their way to Inuvik, whom were caught in a terrible storm and froze to death, their demise unknown to the rest of the world. We became Ed Fulton, a high school teacher, and Sally Johnston, a psychologist and social worker whom Inuvik knows us as. Spencer arrived shortly after us, a special delivery, with a protector, Maya, I think to both keep Spencer safe as well as keep us all together.
As I approached home last night, after divulging our identities to Jack before letting Beth, Spencer, or Maya know, I felt like I had betrayed a confidence. The situation didn’t permit any alternative. I knew what I had to do next.
As I walked into the apartment, stomach in knots, feeling almost dizzy thinking about what I had to do next, I announced “emergency meeting.” Beth walked into the living room where Spencer and Maya were already sitting, everyone now staring at me.
“Jack knows who we are. I had to tell him. The government sent him a directive to determine if the person from the city cams was Max.”
Sometimes cutting to the chase is the best option.
Jack was a friend, core team member to the survivor plan and implementation, so the news, while unexpected, was not taken as bad as it might have been.
“We now have to deal with how we are going to tack given that every move the community makes is a potential for tipping our hand. We need a covert operation plan. Something that obscures being recognized.”
Maya said, “An overlooked detail. Okay then, we need to change our public appearances. All these images are being processed at some centralized location, and then I’m sure cross checked with US data, so let’s not give them anything that might show up in that database. Max, you need a scar and enlarged nose, if only subtly. Spencer, let’s add some additional jaw line. Beth, let’s give you some color contacts and add just enough to your cheek bone. These subtle changes should be enough to avoid pattern matching your new node profile with those in the system.”
Then she looked at me and asked, “Max, will you please schedule a time for the four of us to talk with Jack as soon as possible. We need get him to reply to that government investigation request.”
I reached out to Jack today to see when we could get together. He was dealing with a personal item today, so tomorrow was the soonest he could meet with us.
With a tip of the hat to 1000 Naked Words, and inspired by What I learnt after writing a Medium post every day for 2 months by Shirley Lee, (364) The Evolution of Finding Shit to Write About Every Day for a Damn Year, and following my own advice, I’m setting upon the journey to write a very short story per day, a sketch, nothing special, yet perhaps a slight improvement over the previous day. The idea is that every day, in and of itself, is its own adventure, its own story. The framework for these short stories loosely happen within the context of the draft of “One,” the second part of time.
Who is Hank M. Greene?
“I am what I said I am, a storyteller. But, you may be asking, from whence did I come and to where do I go? ‘Ten’ holds the key to where I go, and it’s to be determined from whence I came.”
Read the draft of Book 1: Ten by Hank M. Greene @ https://sites.google.com/view/time-a-trilogy/
Twitter at @hankmgreene or https://twitter.com/hankmgreene
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