Then Pete was gone, out and away from the apartment, and Sebastian was by himself again, alone and adrift in a world that never had made much sense to him and, he knew, probably never would, no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried. Was that clarity?
He opened the envelope.
COMMENTS BY SPECIAL AGENT
THEODORE P. DORSETT III
Re: Subject Sebastian Gareth Rios
Subject is a survivor of a botched War Department mission whose details remain classified Top Secret. Falls under the umbrella of the “Hero Project” though Bureau analysts have filed reports expressing doubts about this (see: “Black October” files, 149-774, 149-780). Subject was a nonmilitary citizen who sought return to American soil. His request was granted under the provision of a five-year observation tasked to the Bureau. Subject works communications at Homeland Authority, a position the Bureau helped him obtain. Agency reps familiar with the “Hero Project” agreed that keeping subject employed at a government agency would be ideal, as subject is impressionable and does not understand the threat he poses to others and/or the United States government.
Subject possesses ability to turn invisible for iterations of time: the longest on record for twenty-one minutes and twelve seconds (under medical observation). Subject complains of severe headaches after utilizing this ability, which serves as an active deterrent for utilization. Subject has a minor problem with alcohol that sometimes leads to inadvertent utilization. Subject has been warned repeatedly about this.
Subject’s medical reports reveal unstable molecules that “swell” when subject goes invisible (full medical report attached—Annex #4C). In layman’s terms, it remains possible that subject could fully disappear from common sight if he continues to utilize this ability.
Subject’s minor problem with alcohol shows signs of developing into a chronic issue. Subject might grow out of it—subject is in his mid-twenties—but subject does match the psychological profile of someone with addiction issues. Utilization of the invisible ability increases with subject’s incidents of alcohol abuse. Subject has shown recurring signs of depression, post-traumatic stress, and social anxiety.
Subject believes the “Hero Project” is a deception put out by the War Department. Subject believes he was the rescue target of a spec ops mission gone awry in the Barbary Coast that left thirty-plus American operators dead. Subject does not seem aware the “Hero Project” has existed in government files since 1985. Subject expressed much regret that so many operators lost their lives while rescuing him from captivity. Subject erroneously believes his rescue was the purpose of the operators’ mission (see: “Black October” files, 302-307). Subject has not been advised otherwise.
The pages went on like that, agents writing about his life in the cold detachment of administrative-speak. Sebastian read them all, drinking it in through his eyes like elixir: how the government had chronicled his passive liberal politics, about the anti-colony newsletter he’d signed up for, about how Sebastian had been overheard at work gatherings describing what he did for Homeland Authority as “minor acts of neocolonial propaganda.” He probably had said that, he thought, but over beers or something. Not at actual work. They’d even written a page about his family’s immigration from Bolivia, trying to figure out if there was any connection to the Communist Party. There was also a section on his personal life, his occasional successes, his many failures. “Seems likely to marry the next serious partner,” the document stated. “Which should further moderate the subject.”
None of the information was wrong, though much of it seemed unnecessary and histrionic. Were they that worried a kid from the California suburbs would become radicalized? It all felt a tremendous violation to Sebastian. This is my life, he thought. And they make me sound like a fucking dope.
He thought about why Pete had given him this file, and how he’d gotten it in the first place. He understood that the other man had come here to break him. Break him to build him back up. It’s what people like Pete did. Sebastian knew that.
“I want you to be a Volunteer,” he’d said. “Here, in the homeland.”
For who, though? It hadn’t sounded like Pete meant the government. But who else could it be, if not the state?
As he knew he would, Sebastian spent many hours of the late night and early dark replaying in his head over and over again what Pete had said.
“A bomb fell from the sky.”
Yes. And.
“Turned us super.”
Yes. And.
“Turned us beyond.”
Yes. And.
“That’s truth.”
Yes. And.
“That’s the only truth that matters.”
No.
Volunteer #1:
Hello, young citizens, I’m Justice of the Volunteers. Protecting the homeland is a sacred duty, and it’s one we’re all in—together.
Volunteer #2:
There may be an “I” in Sniper, but there’s no “I” in team!
Volunteer #3:
Or in “Volunteers.”
Volunteer #1:
Good point, Dash. The three of us learned a long time ago the importance of teamwork and the group. Only together have we reached our goals. Only together have we tracked down and brought vengeance to America’s enemies abroad.
Volunteer #2:
Only together did we get that clown-scum, Abu Abdallah!
Volunteer #3:
That’s true.
Volunteer #1:
To be in concert with friends and teammates, working toward the same goal? It’s the best. Whether for a school project or the big game, make sure you’re doing the same. Be a part of something bigger than yourself—you’ll learn who you really are in the process.
Volunteer #2:
See you on the high ground, team!
All Volunteers, together:
Because protecting the homeland starts at home.
CHAPTER 20
HURRY UP AND wait. An old military axiom that applied to parts of life in the homeland, too. TV shoots, for one, Mia was learning. They’d been told the general needed to be on set at 7 a.m., not a minute late. But the way the light was reflecting off Lady Liberty in the background hadn’t been to the director’s liking. So they waited. And waited. And remained waiting. The now late-morning sun cast the statue in its best possible light, Mia thought, clear enough for a full profile but with enough of a gray autumn tint to shade its rust. Nothing computer graphics couldn’t clean up, at least, given the episode of Utopia they were filming was set in 1969. But the director was god here. So they waited.
The Heights district perched high on a bluff, hard east from the harbor and statue. Mia was facing north, peering straight into the stony labyrinths of the Finance District. The Global Trade rose across the river through the sky, low clouds wrapped around it like a garter. It was strange for Mia to see the tower from such an angle. She knew it up close, the thick steel knots of its foundation, the way the glass panels seemed to turn to Spanish moss the higher one looked. The flag thrashing atop the roof, sixty stars and thirteen stripes, pale against the horizon. From here, the skyscraper seemed larger yet somehow less imposing. I can reckon with it now, she thought, and contain it. That only happens with distance.