The Great Assumption

FOUR

  Only a fool will laugh at what he doth not understand.

  Julius Mann, Thoughts, vol. 2, ch. 1

  Roy awoke as per usual, with the morning sun making his auburn and gold bedroom curtains glow. At first he felt peaceful and somewhat happy. A glance at the automatic calendar beside his bed confirmed for him that it was a Monday, the day off for most church leaders and the chance for a good lie-in. But as he remembered the events of the weekend his eyes widened with the shock.

  He sat upright in his bed and groaned as he rubbed his face. It was all over. His career. His lifelong work. He had nothing to look back to and nothing to look forward to. All his work was wasted. The years he had spent in working at counselling the people, all with their own unique problems and concerns, was all wasted. And all because of one stupid, unnecessary sin.

  Roy knew his theology well enough to know he was still accepted by God, still saved by divine grace. At least his years spent in study and training had served him with the knowledge of that blessing. It might not be too profitable for ministerial work, but it helped him personally. The thought gave him the energy to get out of bed.

  As he made breakfast, a simple cereal containing differing pieces of dried he-did-not-know-what, he turned on his TCS. Like most people he used an old model Telecommunication Computer System, nothing like the new technology available on the mainland. The St Antipas import laws were so harsh that anything new was always expensive, but Roy actually admitted that he liked the old style better. Now the cell network was not an option, he was pleased that he still had his TCS and never depended too much on being surrounded by a constant stream of communication.

  Roy had just the three screens throughout his small house; one in the kitchen, one in the lounge and one in his bedroom. For years he had the “window to the world’s infotainment” set on the automatic option of AudioON and VideoOff when he left the room. Thus whenever he passed through from the kitchen to the lounge the large screen on the wall by the fridge would go blank and the large screen next to the bookcase would come on. He had the volume set so he could clearly hear it from any room.

  The first screen of the day displayed the index. Roy always ignored the world headlines, preferring to focus on the latest news events in St Antipas. He tapped at one of the buttons built into the kitchen bench top to move a cursor on the screen to the option he wanted: St Antipas Headlines.

  The headlines would usually fill about three screens, varying from the latest murders down to amusing stories and novelty fun items. Today the entire first screen, normally filled with about fifteen headlines, just said one thing: MISSING!

  At first he thought it was a computer glitch, a fault that made each word screen-sized. As he pushed a button to scroll the text down he realised the other headlines had been pushed down. Beneath MISSING! were the usual murder and violent crime reports. Such a bold headline was only reserved for major stories such as a natural disaster destroyed a city, or a world leader was assassinated. It would only happen a couple of times a year, but always on the world headlines, never on the St Antipas section. The island was far too peaceful—usually.

  Roy had two options: either to read the latest report on the TCS’s continually updated NewsText service, or go to the live NewsDesk reports and discussion. Roy always preferred the personal and friendly approach to hearing any bad news, so he moved the cursor to that option. He started eating his breakfast at the same time.

  “And when we come back, more about the mass disappearance,” said the frowning but beautiful news reader. She was Roy’s favourite; Blair Laraine, the one with the smooth voice and the blond hair always with a hint of gold. Whenever he could, he watched her daily talk-show. Her eyes seemed to sparkle. “We have a live report about to come in from an area that has reportedly suffered a one hundred percent loss. Stay tuned, won’t you?”

  Roy stopped his chewing. Did I hear that right? What did she say?

  A commercial came on and Roy hit at the controls, wanting to go to the NewsText feature. He hit the wrong button and the screen blasted up loud DeathBeat music; an oppressive noise of superfast screaming, thrashing, thumping. With even more haste he hit the controls, asking himself why anyone would want to watch that anytime, let alone on a Monday morning. He knew he should have it removed from his TCS, but he sometimes liked to take a look at the videos, with the audio off, to see what the youth of the world were watching.

  With the mistake, he knew the ten-second commercial would soon be over and he would not have time to read the NewsText report and see the live report on NewsDesk. It was not too difficult to see it so both were on screen at the same time, but Roy did not want words written across the face of the lovely Blair Laraine.

  She turned to speak to a large screen behind her in the studio that showed a reporter standing outside a large and unidentified building.

  “Tell us what you can see, Pat.”

  “As you can no doubt see for yourself, Blair, I’m standing here all on my own,” said a slim woman who carried all the elegance of a model on a catwalk. Roy had seen her once or twice on Blair’s show, and he noticed she now looked drained and without the memorable catching smile.

  “Except for a few official emergency personnel and reporters, this entire retirement village is deserted of people.”

  “You say there are emergency personnel there?” Blair emotionally interrupted. “Can you get any information out of them?”

  “I’ve had a talk with some of them, and although they are still insisting on saying very little, I did get the impression that they are still at a total loss over this, even now, into the second day.”

  “But can you confirm this to be another incident of the mass disappearance? Are you sure there is not some other explanation for this?”

  “Yes, I can confirm, Blair. Although no one is yet prepared to go on record, there is no doubt among the other reporters we have seen here, this shows all the signs of the other examples we have come across.”

  “Can you give us an on-the-spot update, Pat?”

  “Certainly. News reports coming in confirm what we said earlier, that in some places we have heard of entire families missing, in others it is just one or two members of families. As Police Chief White told us yesterday, due to the scope of the crises, it cannot be the work of one group, that other factors must be responsible. As yet, no one had ventured to offer any other possibility, other than it is all somehow connected. What we really want to know at this time is why so many people would feel compelled to leave without trace. For instance, here in the sleepy community of Brook Falls we find this Baptist Church sponsored community, a favourite for retirees, is now empty. These people usually don’t go anywhere.”

  “Pat, do you have any eye witnesses who can tell us where they may have gone?”

  “Nothing at all, as we have come to expect. But we are in constant contact with the police, although they have little to go on, except for a couple of what they consider to be crank calls. It seems that some people—there were a couple of them—reported seeing UFOs. But as you know, the police do not consider that option, unless of course they have governmental clearance.”

  Blair thanked the reporter for making the extra effort to bring the report and reminded viewers to stay tuned for the ten-thirty special, when they will present a re-cap of the day’s big story and an in-studio discussion as to the possible whereabouts of the missing people.

  Roy switched to the NewsText. He pushed away his cereal, having lost his appetite. He hated hearing about disaster at any time, but one affecting St Antipas was too much to hear while trying to eat.

  He moved into the lounge and sat in his favourite chair, with the screen automatically switching off in the kitchen and on in the lounge. He preferred reading the NewsText without the accompanying soft music. The screen showed him the latest headline:

  NewsText. 7:35 a.m. Monday 5 October 2026. Mass disappearance of St Antipas residents. 1,259 persons reported missing. 35,600 suspected missing
. No trace of whereabouts. Police Chief Damien White issued a statement at 7:06 a.m. [edited]: “We are doing everything within our power to locate the missing persons but resources are strained to the limit and it will take time. Stay indoors at all times. All roads restricted and roadblocks are enforced.”

  Roy’s mouth hung open as he read. The number defied belief. Surely it was not really happening. He thought of his own congregation. So many people came to mind, all of them dear friends and fellow members of the church. Russell. Annie. Grant. John. The stalwarts of the church he loved to preach to each Sunday: Tyler and Rachel Van Allen, Jonathan and Natalie Staley, John Barnes and Christine Harrison. The elderly saints who attended every week no matter how their health was, who always enjoyed to give him their approval: Rose Staley, Emily Barnes, Ruth Vessey, Ida Zarman, Alec and Ada Nyhan—both in their nineties.

  No, it can’t be true. Missing? What could it mean?

  Without any signal the NewsText report was updated as Roy was reading it a third time.

  NewsText. 7:37 a.m. Monday 5 October 2026. Mass disappearance of St Antipas residents. 1,272 persons reported missing. 35,600 suspected missing. No trace of whereabouts. Police Chief Damien White issued a statement at 7:36 a.m. [edited]: “We are doing everything within our power to locate the missing persons but resources are limited and it will take time. Be patient. Stay indoors at all times. Do not travel unless of utmost necessity. All roads restricted and roadblocks are enforced, and officers have orders to arrest anyone without government clearance who does not comply.”

  Roy rushed to the kitchen TCS controls and tapped out Russell Heslin’s number. As he heard the calling tone he asked himself what he should say. If there was anyone he wanted safe and well it was Russell. Life in running a church would be impossible without him. Since Roy had taken up the leadership role, after the death of the church’s previous leader, Russell had stood by him and always gave him good advice when it was needed. He was a man of good wisdom and a ready wit. Roy could not have hoped for a better elder.

  There was no reply. Roy looked at the latest update, now displayed in his kitchen. He realised he had been waiting for Russell to answer the call for five minutes.

  NewsText. 7:42 a.m. Monday 5 October 2026. Mass disappearance of St Antipas residents. 1,272 persons reported missing. 35,850 suspected missing. No trace of whereabouts, Police Chief Damien White issued a statement at 7:36 a.m. [edited]: “We are doing everything within our power and it will take time. Stay indoors at all times. Do not travel unless of utmost necessity. All roads restricted and roadblocks are enforced, and officers have orders to arrest anyone without government clearance who does not comply. Lines now operative; all emergency reports on missing persons now accepted.”

  Grant. Call Grant.

  The favourite of his two deacons, Grant Westwood was progressing well through his studies, and Roy expected his final approval to come in from Chichester sometime in the new year. When he tapped his number he again listened to the endless calling tone beeping down the line, and with agitation read on the TCS screen that it advised him no contact could be made and the residence was most likely unoccupied.

  “This can’t be happening,” he mumbled to himself.

  He went to the lounge keyboard attached to his chair. With one tap of a button the TCS screen changed for him and he called up the church membership list. There were two ‘A’s: Jackie Allfrey and the Anders family. Neither were rated as good church attendees, but at that moment Roy could not care less. He placed simultaneous calls to both, with no answer. As he waited he read another update.

  NewsText. 7:45 a.m. Monday 5 October 2026. Mass disappearance of St Antipas residents. 1,418 persons reported missing. 40,230 suspected missing. Lines now operative; all emergency reports on missing persons now accepted. Police Chief Damien White issued a statement at 7:36 a.m. [edited]: “We are doing everything within our power and it will take time. Stay indoors at all times. Do not travel unless of utmost necessity. Roads restricted and roadblocks are enforced, and officers have orders to arrest anyone without government or media clearance who does not comply.”

  Roy looked over the ‘B’s and saw some of his foremost people. Alana Bailey, who came every week; Jay and Roxanna Banks; John Barnes, who was one of his most helpful board members, and John’s dear old mother Emily Barnes. There was the Beard family, the Blazley family, the Blue family, the Broyles family, and the Bury family. Roy sighed with frustration as he looked at the names, knowing each one was a committed Christian, many in the church longer than him, most from generations of Kingdom of God church members.

  He went to a special option in his TCS, one he never thought he would need. It simultaneously sent a message to everyone on the list, a simple contact which would receive back a message on his screen. As a darkly shaded message came up that told him it was sending it out, Roy could see the outline of himself in the centre of the screen. As he looked at his image the thought came to him that he had been mistaken. God had not judged him. He was not condemned. It was far worse than that.

  He asked himself, nearly berated himself, if he had been too caught up in his own thoughts, his own fears. He desperately hoped his time spent in self-contemplation and blame had not in some way contributed to the new crisis in is life, in everyone’s life. It had certainly made him miss it.

  He went to the lounge window, part of which was patched with the remnants of an old shopping bag. He looked out to the deserted street. He desperately wanted to do something, to somehow make up for that lost time. He could see Bernard’s house and he decided that it would not hurt the present travel restrictions if he went to see him. If he had to, he could hop over the low fence that separated their properties.

  He dressed in his normal Monday clothes and took a look at the latest update before he left.

  NewsText. 8:32 a.m. Monday 5 October 2026. Mass disappearance of St Antipas residents now officially a national crisis. 1,570 persons reported missing. 43,740 suspected missing. All emergency reports on missing persons accepted. Prime Minister Marvin Francis issued a statement at 8:17 a.m. [edited]: “All citizens of St Antipas need to work to help our law enforcement personnel in their handling of this mystery by fully complying to their instructions.” Police Chief Damien White issued a statement at 8:30 a.m. [edited]: “During this time of crisis we need to keep all streets clear. Do not go outside unless absolutely necessary. Thank you for your help.”

  Roy again told himself that checking on Bernard’s safety was a necessary enough reason to venture out. He knew the man had psychological difficulties, and that he had invested years in therapists and counsellors. Bernard was a sorry case; too depressed most of the time to go outside, he would always sit transfixed in front of his TCS, usually reading through a thick and complex book at the same time. It was through his interest in books that Roy hoped to help him. He had recently lent him a volume from Julius Mann’s Bible expository series, from his own personal collection.

  Every window to Bernard’s run-down house was boarded up. A few broken boards and bent nails were lying on the path that skirted the house. The word was that of a hurried, frightened man.

  Roy followed the path to the back door and knocked on a section that was still the original door; even the shaded glass of his back door had been covered.

  The door opened and Roy’s first interest was that Bernard had the inside lights on, which appeared weak against the bright morning sunlight.

  “Come on in Roy,” Bernard said as he shaded his eyes from the glare of the sun. “It’s not safe being out there, don’t you know?”

  “I’m just stopping by to see how you are.”

  “I appreciate it, Roy. But maybe you should have just called, to keep out the sunlight, you understand.”

  “Are your boys in?

  “Haven’t seen them all weekend.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Have you reported them?

  “Why, did they do something
else wrong? I never know what they’re gonna do.”

  “No, I mean have you called the police and reported them missing? The lines are now free for anyone to call in. I think you had better do so.”

  “You think my boys are part of this mass disappearance? I should be so lucky, Roy. No, it’s usual for them to stay away for a couple of days at a time. I’ll give them until Tuesday, maybe Wednesday, to put in an appearance and take more of my food and drink. They always return when they get hungry, when they can’t get anything more out of their mother. That’s where they usually go, I reckon; to their mother’s.”

  Roy glanced around and noted that the interior of the house had changed little since his last visit several months ago. It was like it had never been tidied, let alone cleaned. Books and magazines of all sizes were lying on every piece of the furniture, and there were several large stacks on the floor. Small statuettes of various odd shapes were sitting on high shelves near the ceiling. Roy had no idea what they were, or even what they depicted.

  Bernard sat in his chair, close to a large TCS screen that displayed a rock video. Roy was thankful that the audio was so low that only a low grumbling could be heard from it. Bernard explained that he did not like the song on at the moment and he was really waiting for the live studio discussion to come on.

  “Help yourself from the fridge if you want anything,” he added.

  “Thank you, but no; I’ve already had my breakfast. Are you watching the local TC or the international one?”

  “This is FreeWorld. You know the one; I told you about it, remember?”

  “You’re watching that thing run by some cultic group from Switzerland? Come on, Bern, this is not time to mess around with such people. You should be following the local news teams.”

  “I don’t trust them for a second. Neither should you. Do you know how much stuff never gets reported here? All kinds of things the media conveniently ignores. See if I’m going to watch the locals now, no way.”

  “What are they telling you, then? Do they have any idea about where the missing people have gone? Do they even know St Antipas is going through this crisis?”

  “St Antipas? Man, it’s world-wide.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “World-wide, as in all over the world. Man, see what you get for following the local news? They don’t tell you anything you really need to know. Nothing about what’s really going on in the world.”

  “You mean people are missing in other countries too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Even on the mainland?”

  “Yeah, they’ve got it real bad over there.”

  “But how can that be?”

  “I told you yesterday. It’s them aliens. You’ve got to take them seriously, Roy. This is the big time now; no more hiding about and following people, and allowing the odd bad photograph. They’ve already out down their plans and launched their assault. We the survivors just got to play ball with them and hope they won’t take us too, because they could.”

  “How many people are missing on the mainland?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Well, how many are missing world-wide?”

  “Don’t know that either.”

  “The last report I saw said there was over 43,000 missing in St Antipas. How many more must there be overseas?”

  “The reports coming in from overseas are real bad, real confused. They don’t know what’s going on any better than we do. Man, I’ve heard there’s been some bad disasters; plane crashed and traffic pile-ups like you wouldn’t believe. The government-run media can’t keep up with it; don’t want to if you ask me. Why do you think I’ve tuned in to FreeWorld? They aren’t scared of any government. They’ll tell us the truth about them aliens.”

  “Bern, I’ve told you before, I have little time for this idle speculation about aliens, and especially now, during such a time of crisis. As far as I’m concerned, aliens don’t exist.”

  “You’re saying that because they don’t agree with you theology.”

  “Maybe I am, but it’s what I believe.”

  “But they could exist, you must admit that?”

  “Yes, I will admit there is a possibility that God made other civilisations in the universe, just as he made us.”

  “Well sure he did. Man, I’ve got a book somewhere that shows you all the places in the Bible that refer to aliens and alien encounters, even abductions, which is exactly what we’re dealing with now, but never on this scale.”

  “That’s all very well, but I don’t believe it.”

  “Don’t believe what?”

  “I don’t believe they’re in the Bible, and I don’t believe they have now swept through the world and kidnapped thousands, if not millions of people.”

  “Kidnapped? How about vaporised?”

  “Yes, but why, Bern? Just tell me why these aliens would want to do that to us?”

  “You want me to guess? All right, how’s this: Their planet is overcrowded, or wrecked beyond repair. Or maybe they’re on the run from some greater enemies, some real bad dudes from some other galaxy. I don’t know, but I do know we got no defence against them and we just have to play along with them, and hope the people who know about these things are in contact with them and can save the rest of us from them—psychics, I mean; those who’ve been in contact with them for years, trying to make friends with them.”

  Hearing Bernard’s explanation somehow made Roy feel better about his congregation. He knew such outlandish ideas could not be true, and that strengthened his hope that they were all safe. The answer was surely simple and ultimately harmless. It had to be.

  “If it’s all right with you, Bern, I think I will just wait and see what the police tell us. I’m sure this mystery will all be revealed to us shortly, and then we can look ahead, to what the future will bring us, whether with or without the missing people. It is always the best thing to do when something like this happens. Look to the future, to what we must do to help. If these people have truly gone from us and will not be returning, then there will be a lot of shattered lives to restore, not to mention a shattered world. I know for myself that losing my entire congregation has been utterly devastating.”

  “Yeah? Is that right? You say your congregation has all gone?”

  “As far as I know, yes.”

  “That’s too bad. I’m sorry to hear that, man. You know I’ve got no time for churches, but I sure don’t want to see them all vaporised like that.”

  “I’m still hoping I’m wrong, that their disappearance is not connected to this world-wide thing. But seeing no one turned up at either one of my Sunday services, leaves me thinking they too must be part of the missing thousands.”

  “What other reason could there be?”

  “I have no idea, Bern. But I’m still remaining optimistic about their safety. I’ve called each of their homes and asked for anyone there to get back to me. I’m hoping for a screen full of replies when I return home.”

  “You’re more optimistic than me. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re in some alien laboratory by now, being studied.”

  “These people are my friends, Bern. Many of them helped me in running the church, due to their dedication and love. I cannot imagine them not being here. This is not like a death in the family, when a loved-one is taken from you. This is like your entire family being ripped away, all at once. It’s very upsetting when I think of my congregation, my people, those I’ve cared for and helped, for all these years. It’s only been seven years since I became the church leader but I know every one of those people like my own family. I can’t imagine they’ve all gone, disappeared without a trace. It can’t be true.”

  “I’m sorry, Roy. I should’ve kept my mouth shut on such a sensitive issue. I should have known better. See what happens when I invite nice people into my home? I end up insulting them without trying.”

  Roy told himself to be careful, that he may have triggered one of Bernard’s many phobias; the one where
he fears offending people. Be careful, Roy. He can go off the deep end at any time.

  “Forget it. I took no offence from it. I know you have to work through this challenge of yours.”

  “Thanks, Roy. I’ve got to remember to think my words through before I speak. The doctor told me that last time; that’s right.”

  “We should be sticking together and not going after strange and unrealistic ideas. Really, I don’t see how watching a foreign station run by some cult can help us. We’re only a small island; we need to stick together and support the authorities at this time. I truly believe that. But if you’re proven right about the aliens, that they have done something terrible to us, then I’ll concede that you have been right all these years. But until then I’m backing the authorities to find some other reason. And I’m still hoping every one of those missing can be found; not only my people but everyone in the world. I’m sure there is some reasonable explanation for it all, and one that will soon become clear.”

  “Suit yourself, then. Say, I’ve got some leftover wood, if you want to board up your windows. They say it’s safer now than at night, although your really should have done it yesterday. It was safer yesterday.”

  “That’s all right. I think I’ll take my chances.”

  “Man, you’re a weird one. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t offend you by saying that, did I?”

  “No, I’m not offended. Just remember I’m here to help you.”

  “But aren’t you scared? Even a little bit?”

  “It’s called faith. I trust in God to watch over me. As Julius Mann once said, Happy be the man to whom his house lies under the continuous gaze of Almighty God.”

  “Suit yourself. Say, talking about Mann, I’ve finished that book you gave me.”

  Bernard leaned over the right arm of his chair and sorted through a heap of old books and magazines, littered with old food wrappers. He found the book he wanted, a beautifully bound volume that was part of a set, and handed it to Roy.

  “I’m most impressed,” Roy said as he took it and checked for food stains. “So, then, what did you think of Julius Mann? Is he what I promised you he would be?”

  “Yeah, he’s one deep thinker all right. The language was a little funny, but once I got into it, it was all right.”

  “He wrote in the mid-seventeenth century. The language isn’t too bad if you compare it to other works written at that time.” Roy waited for Bernard to make some comment about the book, or some point made by Mann, or some appreciation of Mann’s spiritual insight.

  “You want to watch TC with me for a bit?” Bernard asked.

  “Sure, but is there anything you want to discuss about the book, or about Mann himself?”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll let you know if I think of anything. FreeWorld will be on soon; you’ve got to see their great introduction. Man, it’s cool.”

  “Would you consider reading another volume of his?”

  “Sure. I could always use another book to look at.”

  It was the early evening when Roy returned home. His head was spinning from the hours of listening to Bernard explain various theories he had about Julius Mann’s writings. Once he got his started, he found Bernard’s mind was full of ideas inspired by the book. It would usually be a topic Roy would love to partake of, to debate the teachings and wisdom of Mann, but Bernard had twisted it all far beyond what was acceptable. Together with his insisting that the TCS audio be turned up high at the same time when the FreeWorld station returned to live broadcasting, made the visit all the more taxing. But Roy endured it, knowing Bernard had many problems to cope with. Roy had taken it on himself to help him overcome his lack of contact with other people. He was especially vulnerable now that the current crisis did nothing to make him want to go too far outside.

  Roy found that no replies had been received on his TCS. He sat back in his favourite chair and paged through his church’s phonebook, wondering if he should go out and visit each house. He remembered that travel restrictions and though he should comply. He called up the latest update on his TCS, hopeful that the restrictions had been lifted.

  NewsText. 5:42 p.m. Monday 5 October 2026. Major world crisis: mass disappearance of millions of people. Missing in St Antipas: 12,690 reported, 71,800 suspected missing. All citizens advised to remain indoors. Prime Minister Marvin Francis issued a statement at 5:22 p.m. [edited]: “We will need your help but for now let our professional emergency teams conduct their work without unnecessary hindrance. You can play your part by contacting our command centre to report any missing persons if you have not yet done so. Thank you St Antipas.”

  Roy looked at it without moving for a while. The number stunned him. He rubbed his eyes and went to his TCS to do his duty and report Bernard’s two sons. He knew it was true that they usually went away for several days, but it was also true that they could be part of the missing. If they were indeed missing, it would be better for them and Bernard if the police had their names on their list.

  Just before his hand touched the controls it sounded. The signal that a call was coming in was set to one of Roy’s favourite songs, but it had long ceased reminding him of it; now it just sounded like his TCS. He pulled his hand away and looked up to the screen as it continued to play. Someone was calling him. Someone was still out there, and had received his message, and wanted to speak to him. Roy found is so unbelievable that he just stood and watched it play, amazed at the sight. Then fearing he might lose the caller, he answered.