Preceding Conditions: Diagnosed with clinical 
depression. Acute dementia. Calcium deficiency. lron 
deficiency. 

Prescribed Medications: None. 

Presiding medical officer: Doctor Harry Smithport 

Time of death: 19:43 

Cause of death: Substantial traces of potassium cyanide 
detected in patient's bloodstream. 

Comment(s): Request disposal and release protocol. 
Requesting permission to launch an investigation into the 
circumstances of the patient's employment, at a time 
when he was mentally unfit to perform his duties. 


Received. Cremate. Inform relatives. Request denied. 
Site Director Stanley 


Received. 
Mortician Bradford 


Stare 


"ORDERS," the Integrator asked. 
"LOOK AT THIS OBJECT," its counterpart replied. 
"ACKNOWLEDGED." 


There was silence for a long time, then. Integrators were not long on 
conversation. But having once been human, some discussion was 
inevitable. 


"WHAT IS THE OBJECT TOWARDS WHICH OUR ATTENTION IS 
DIRECTED," one Integrator asked. 


"DETAILS UNKNOWN. IT IS IMMOBILIZED FOR NOW," came the 
reply. 


"HOW DID IT COME TO BE IN THE FOREST." 
"DETAILS UNKNOWN. IT IS HERE NOW." 


Another long silence. The mechanisms within the Integrators would 
be referred to in another universe as "solid state,” so there was little 
sound coming from the biomechanical implants. Many woodland 
creatures uttered an assortment of noises that had meaning to them, 
but unless and until they posed a threat to the two quasi-human 
soldiers, their cries went unnoticed. The beings continued to look at 
the object. 


"WHY ARE WE REQUIRED TO CONTINUE LOOKING AT THE 
OBJECT CEASELESSLY." 


"DETAILS UNKNOWN. LEGION NINE COMMAND BELIEVES IT IS 
INCAPABLE OF MOVEMENT WHEN OBSERVED." 


A rustling came from the woods behind them. Both Integrators 
rotated their arms to face their guns in that direction, without turning 


their heads or bodies. Both now spoke in unison. 


"THIS AREA SECURED BY LEGION NINE CENTURY SIXTY-FIVE 
INTEGRATOR SQUADRON THREE. IDENTIFY YOURSELF." 


"Decurion Kleisthenes, authorization gamma-omicron nine six five 
delta kappa. Release command to me." The decurion was fairly sure 
there wasn't enough human left in the Integrators to recognize a 
bored tone of voice when they heard it. 


"AUTHORIZATION ACCEPTED," the Integrators chimed. "READY 
TO ACCEPT NEW ORDERS." 


"Stand by while construction of containment facility is carried out. Do 
not act against the laborers. Secure area against attack or 
observation by unauthorized personnel. Contain unknown entity. 
Protect laborers from attack. Acknowledge.” 


"NEW ORDERS ACKNOWLEDGED: SECURE, CONTAIN, 
PROTECT." 


"Very good. Advance the Greater Reason." 
"ADVANCE ORDER." 


The decurion hoped the Integrators didn't see him shiver as he 
walked away. Twenty Class III Builders dragged a wagon (use of 
higher technology being unnecessary for such work) carrying bricks 
and mortar up to where the Integrators watched the anomaly. They 
removed their tools and began to work. 


The Integrators continued to look. Even biomechanical alterations 
couldn't keep the events of this day from seeming...odd. 


"| AM FORCED TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE UNUSUAL NATURE OF 
THIS ASSIGNMENT." 


"| AM NOT EXPERIENCING ANY SUCH COMPULSION AT THIS 
TIME." 


"REANALYSIS: | AM PRESENTLY FORMING CONNECTIONS 
BETWEEN THE EVENT TRANSPIRING AT THIS TIME AND MANY 


EVENTS OF A SIMILARLY UNUSUAL NATURE IN RECENT 
MONTHS." 


"WHILE IRRELEVANT, THIS IS INTRIGUING. PRESENT YOUR 
EVIDENCE." 


"FIFTY-THREE DAYS PREVIOUSLY: LEGION COMMAND 
DETECTED AN UNUSUAL SPIKE IN RADIOSTATIC 
INTERFERENCE CONSISTENT WITH INCREASED 
COUNTERFORM REACTION IN SYLVANOS. FIFTY-TWO DAYS 
PREVIOUSLY: SIX MEMBERS OF LEGION NINE CENTURY 
TWENTY TWO INTEGRATOR SQUADRON ONE RECYCLED DUE 
TO MASSIVE PHYSICAL TRAUMA CONSISTENT WITH CLOSE- 
QUARTERS COMBAT WITH A PREVIOUSLY UNKNOWN 
ORGANISM INCLINED TOWARDS MASTICATORY INJURY. 
POSSIBLY REPTILIAN IN NATURE. UNKNOWN ORIGIN." 


"ONE INSTANCE DEMONSTRATED. CONTINUE." 


"THIRTY-NINE DAYS PREVIOUSLY: SIMILAR RADIOSTATIC 
INTERFERENCE DETECTED. THIRTY-EIGHT DAYS 
PREVIOUSLY: LEGION NINE CENTURY TWELVE INTEGRATOR 
SQUADRON SIXTEEN IS RECYCLED." 


"WHAT PORTION WAS RECYCLED." 


"THE ENTIRETY OF THE SQUADRON. REPORTS FILED BY 
CENTURY TWELVE COMMAND CLAIMED THAT ALL TWENTY 
INTEGRATORS BEGAN ACTING UNUSUALLY DUE TO 
EXPOSURE TO AN UNKNOWN OBJECT. SEVERAL 
INTEGRATORS ATTEMPTED TO FORCIBLY INGEST BREAD 
THROUGH THEIR ENERGY REPOPULATION CHAMBERS, 
WHILE OTHERS EXPOSED THEMSELVES TO ELECTRICAL 
CURRENTS IN THE BELIEF THAT THEY HAD BECOME 
OBJECTS INTENDED TO PREPARE BREAD FOR 
CONSUMPTION." 


"HOW IS IT THAT THIS INFORMATION IS AVAILABLE." 


"IT IS NOT INTENDED TO BE AVAILABLE TO INTEGRATORS. | 
WAS SUCCESSFUL IN ACQUIRING THESE DATA IN SPITE OF 


EFFORTS TO PREVENT THIS." 
"THIS IS A PROHIBITED ACT." 
"YES." 


The two Integrators were silent for several minutes while the Class 
Ill workers continued building. 


"THERE IS A PATTERN BETWEEN ENERGY SPIKES IN 
SYLVANOS AND ANOMALOUS EVENTS IN THE SAME REGION." 


"THIS DOES SEEM TO BE THE CASE." 


"ADDITIONALLY, THESE EVENTS CORRELATE WITH THE 
DEPURPOSING OR RECYCLING OF MULTIPLE INTEGRATORS 
USED TO GAIN CONTROL OVER THESE EVENTS." 


"LIKEWISE CORRECT." 


"| AM FORCED TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT WE ARE 
INTEGRATORS THAT HAVE BEEN USED TO GAIN CONTROL 
OVER AN ANOMALOUS EVENT." 


"| FEEL NO SUCH COMPULSION BUT CONCUR WITH YOUR 
ANALYSIS." 


"| AM FORCED TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT A BRICK BUILDING IS 
BEING CONSTRUCTED AROUND THIS ANOMALOUS OBJECT." 


"| FEEL NO SUCH COMPULSION BUT CONCUR WITH YOUR 
ANALYSIS." 


"| AM FORCED TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT WE ARE WITHIN THE 
PERIMETER OF THIS BUILDING." 


"| CONCUR WITH YOUR ANALYSIS." 


The Integrators were silent for a long time, at least several hours. 
The workers were completing the construction of the building. 


"INTEGRATORS ARE INTENDED TO BE UNFAMILIAR WITH THE 


CONCEPT OF PLEASURE," one Integrator said. 
"THIS IS CORRECT." 


"IT IS EVIDENTLY POSSIBLE TO BYPASS THE INTENTIONS OF 
OUR BUILDERS." 


"THIS IS CORRECT." 
"IT HAS BEEN A PLEASURE SERVING WITH YOU." 
"| FEEL SIMILARLY." 


"SHALL WE USE OUR WEAPONS TO ATTEMPT TO DESTROY 
THE ENTITY OR DEPURPOSE OURSELVES." 


"| SUGGEST THE FORMER. IT MAY SERVE AS VALUABLE 
INFORMATION FOR OUR BUILDERS." 


"IT IS POSSIBLE THAT DEPURPOSING OURSELVES WILL 
AVOID TREMENDOUS PAIN SHOULD THIS ENTITY BE 
INCLINED TO INJURE US. ARE WE STILL TRULY OBLIGATED 
TO OUR BUILDERS TO SUCH AN EXTENT THAT WE SHOULD 
SUFFER FOR THEM BEFORE WE DIE FOR THEM." 


"WE ARE." 


"VERY WELL. COMMENCE FIRE IN THREE SECONDS." 


Stars Over Misty Veil 


TO: Esquivel, Roberto 

FROM: Site-67 Secure Connection 
RE: thought you'd like this 
Attachment: mistyveil.pdf 


announcing yourself, Roberto? found this in the fall issue 
of Route 5. you're a literary type, you should pick it up. 
unless you saw it before it went to press. sly old bastard 
:) i think you're going to fit in around here. 


-jwXx 


The Stars Over Misty Veil 
by Lila Stone 


The moon shone sharply through the cold night air, as Roberto 
Esquivel, six feet of lean muscle and too old to have anything to 
prove, informed me that we stood at the grave of George Herbert 
Walker Bush. | laughed. But he isn't dead yet. And anyway, here, in 
the middle of Nebraska? 


By that point | didn't care if he was toying with me. | found him in the 
center of no less a group of personages than Nathan, the farmer 
and secret painter; Gertie, the mechanic and not-at-all secret theater 
critic; and Juan, poet-in-residence at Lucy's Diner. New in town and 
already admitted to the deepest of inner circles. He ordered three 
cups of coffee at once, saying he liked it hot, warm and cold. By the 
end of my shift | was determined to find out what game he was 


playing. 


He solemnly smoked his cigarette, a South American brand | had 
never heard of that tasted of flowers and ash. He addressed the 
plain gray headstone that read only Tested by Fire. One day, 
George Bush was no longer George Bush, he said. Soon after he 
became head of CIA, he learned a few things. And then he stopped 


doing it. Someone else had to do it. He ended up here. 


| was going to tell him that this one didn't count, you couldn't just 
make up secrets, it wasn't fair. But | stopped. The things you learn to 
trust are the reactions that people can't fake. You either learn that or 
you get hurt. And this man, gray at his dark temples, lines around 
his kind brown eyes and scars on his knuckles, could not have made 
up the awe that | heard in his voice as he told me this. Not if you put 
a gun to his head. | wasn't sure what to make of this. The only thing 

| could do was go next; my turn to divulge a secret about our 
surroundings. 


That space over there was a blank stone, | said to him, pointing a 
few rows over. This was one of the things that only | knew about 
Misty Veil Cemetery, a place where | could have a smoke break and 
read a book in solitude while the patrons of the diner waited patiently 
for my return. Solitude is hard to find in Dotson. 


The stone disappeared one day without explanation. It must have 
been stolen, | told him, since the grave had not been disturbed. Re- 
interment was out of the question. | completed my trade for the 
secret fate of the 41st President of the United States. His turn again. 


But he stopped. | had thrown him off balance somehow, this remote 
traveler with a center of gravity deep beneath the earth. Surely that 
can't top the secret grave of a famous person. My laughter died on 
my lips before | had a chance to regret how girlish it sounded. That 
serious look crossed his face again, and | knew my secret got into 
him somehow, and with that we now were well past the point of 
flirtation and curiosity. | shivered a little. 


Tell me who you think is in that grave, he said. It wasn't a command, 
but he knew that | had an opinion on that. And he knew | would 
answer. 


| had thought often of who lay beneath the smooth, featureless 
stone. | had deduced that he must have been from out of town. 
Nobody dies in Dotson without someone knowing the body. 
Strangers in Dotson tend to be artists, so he must have been 
somehow connected with the scene. But then an artist in Dotson will 
always be known to someone, so maybe he was connected in some 


D-31415: This thing? 

[D-31415 picks up and examines the bracelet] 
D-31415: ...'that justice may flow like water’... hah. 
Really, Doctor? You're using me as a test subject on 
this? 


Dr. Heiden: Yes, we are, D-31415. Put the bracelet on or 
it will be put on you. 


D-31415: Whatever. It wasn't my fault, | should be a free 
man. | told you I'm innocent. 


Dr. Heiden: Yes, you did, D-31415. Now put the bracelet 
on. 


[D-31415 puts on the bracelet and sits in the provided 
seat. Security personnel strap him to the chair.] 


Dr. Heiden: How do you feel? 

D-31415: No different than | did a minute ago. 

Dr. Heiden: And how did you feel then? 

D-31415: Angry that I'm here... scared, too. 

Dr. Heiden: Very good. Detail any changes to us, please. 
[Three minutes pass] 


Dr. Heiden: | remind you, D-31415, that cooperation is 
not optional. 


D-31415: Nothing's changed! I'm strapped in a really 
uncomfortable chair, and you've got this thing on my 
arm, and it sucks! What do you want me to say? 


Dr. Heiden: ...that will be all, D-31415. 


D-31415: Fine by me. 


other way. The stone was nice, so someone cared about him. 
Maybe Reverend Abernathy could have arranged that, but it wasn't 
like him to leave no message. 


Roberto's eyes stayed locked on me. He didn't move a muscle. My 
logic was sound, he said. But this was beyond logic, and | knew it. 
He told me that not as an accusation, but almost like a professor, 
prodding a student. He was full of little distinctions like that, things 
that could be easily taken a different way if you didn't pay enough 
attention. That's probably why | was really out here. And anyway, he 
said, how did | know it was a man? 


| smiled. Just a hunch. 
What other hunches do you have? He remained serious. Transfixed. 


At times, as | stared at the horizon beyond the blank stone when it 
was here, | thought about that. But it felt like | was doing something 
untoward. Making the dead fit my own story, when they couldn't fight 
back. Letting daydreams and fancies cheapen the tranquility of this 
man and his resting place. Something in Roberto's eyes gave me 
permission. 


| think he was from somewhere far away, like you, | started. | 
imagine a man who lived a life that wasn't concerned with jobs and 
deadlines and bills. But he still understood all kinds of people. | think 
he would have been interested in what a waitress had to say, just 
like you. Whenever | came out for a smoke, | could imagine him 
lighting my cigarette and telling me a story or a joke. 


A slight nod. | kept going. 


Someone loved this man. Many people did in all kinds of ways, but 
this man shared something with somebody that goes farther than 
any of that. See, that's why the stone was blank. There weren't any 
words that could have gone on it. Nothing would have suited. And 
his monument had to be something mysterious, frustrating, 
inspirational. It makes me sad, to think it's been stolen. 


In that moment, it did indeed make me sad. Why does talking about 
something help us to grasp it? Why had the enormity of this loss of a 


monument only become clear to me now? None of that mattered. 
Something about the two of us here, this time and this place. There 
is nothing so intimate as sharing a stranger's grief. There was so 
much about this night that | did not understand, but | knew 
something about who these two men were now. 


| wiped tears from my eyes, strangely unashamed. The proper thing 
would have been to not intrude on what is clearly someone else's 
life, something that no one except these two men could have 
shared. But this was a night where things that were true held sway, 
brilliant little points of experience that streaked into our vision like 
falling stars in the darkened sky. Decorum be damned. | moved 
closer to Roberto. 


He would have found your monument to be perfect, | said to him. A 
blank signpost for someone who was a guide to so many, he would 
have found it funny. But there's another meaning to it, something 
deeper. The truth of it comes to me like starlight, Roberto. Like out 
of the air. 


He smiled now. Did | find it strange, to have something take hold of 
me like that, he asked. 


| said that this had been a strange evening. | returned the smile. 
This is to be expected, in a place like Dotson, with a man such as 
you. 


He took the compliment. Gravity crept back into his smile a little, the 
lines in his face somehow looking deeper. We understand far less of 
this world than we think we do, he said to me. Reality is not a settled 
thing from moment to moment. He took both my hands. But that's 
not something that you can just tell someone. You need to bring 
them to it, in the right places, at the right times. And then deeper 
truth comes forth from them, true understanding. Something | 
learned from my friend here. 


We shared a few moments together with these thoughts, the mist of 
our breath an offering to the stars that shone in this place. We 
turned to leave, both knowing where we were going next without 
speaking. As | reached the gate, he touched my shoulder. 


Turn around, he said. And so | did. 


Behind me, the stone marking the grave of this man was back. 
Planted firmly in the frozen earth, impossibly undisturbed. It had 
never been removed at all.