“Should I go to work?” was Jake's first thought. “How will I get there?” was his next.
He dressed, and thankfully discovered that it was easy as long as he sat on the edge of his bed. Walking down the hall to his kitchen, Jake offered a grateful prayer that he lived in a one floor apartment. He steadied himself with a hand against the wall, and maneuvered around the kitchen with at least one hand on a countertop. He decided to skip his normal breakfast of eggs and bacon, and stuffed two pieces of bread into the toaster.
Uncertain and anxious, Jake weighed calling in sick or pretending everything was normal. Absently he picked up the remote and turned on the news. At that moment his toast popped, and he turned towards it.
“... a mysterious phenomenon is sweeping across the nation...”
Jake spun around, melted butter dripping from the toast and knife onto the floor. “It isn't me,” he sighed, and with an involuntary relaxation of his grip he fell to the floor with a resounding crash.
…
The knowledge that strange phenomenon effected everyone brought Jake some relief, but it took less than a day for it to transmute into something sinister. Scientists, the talking heads on the TV told him, were working swiftly on a solution, or an answer, or at least a hypothesis to the cause of the problem. Local leaders proposed a holiday week for non-essential workers. Cynical posters on social media called it a an illegal imprisonment. With nowhere to go, Jake called friends and family, but all they wanted to do was talk about the Event. The more he listened to story after story, complaint after complaint, fear after fear, he felt anxiety growing in himself like a weed.
He collapsed onto his bed and lay there, fighting the feeling. He sprayed it with memories of the good old times (two days ago), watered it with the thoughts of activities he could still do, and fertilized it with the hopeful day when this plague would end.
He could only sit inactive so long. He sought an outlet for the creeping despair, in curiosity. With his laptop and a notepad he lay upon his bed and began his research. Already Reddit and YouTube were populated with theories of the plague's origin and effect. His grumbling stomach revived Jake from his deep dive into unfounded hypothesis. The sky had darkened, and before he could help himself he bound from his bed, collapsing onto the floor. A quick dinner left him unsatisfied, though he didn't blame the food, but something he couldn't label.
“Tomorrow,” he said out loud, “I need to put more effort into this mystery.”
…
As eminent scientists in labs and discussed their work globally with colleagues, Jake met in the basement of a neighbor with a collection of other men and women to discuss their theories.
“I was reading, about how the first mass produced TV, is likely responsible for many types of cancer that scientists had never seen before.”
“That was in the 1940s. I think we're looking for something a little more recent.”
“You don't know how long this catastrophe has been building. Something has been slowly spreading its metaphorical cancer through humanity, piercing deep. It has finally revealed itself, but who knows if this is the conclusion.”
“What if it was microwaves?”
“The electromagnetic radiation, or the device which cooks food by producing electromagnetic radiation?”
“The latter. They've been infecting us, altering our brains for fifty years.”
“And how does that effect our toes?”
“What if Alzheimer's, which is rising because of microwaves, is causing parts of our body to atrophy, starting with the feet?”
“You're too focused on devices. It's chemicals, all the artificial pesticides, medicines, and pollution that are responsible for rising rates of cancer and heart disease.”
Jake sat as a member of the circle, but silent. He regretted his involvement, his immersion in videos online. He knew he didn't know much, but he knew enough that he wanted to say, “Increased rates of deaths by cancer and heart disease are probably because people are no longer dying from tuberculosis or pneumonia due to modern medicine.” He didn't dare say it. People do not like to be confronted with answers that rend their worldview. He also knew that he didn't know the cause of their current plight.
They spoke for hours, driven by a desire for action, and a bit of showmanship. There was no theory left unconsidered, unproposed. They concluded with the final statement of belief, “How could we possibly know what caused this disaster, when humanity has irrevocably altered its environment over the last hundred years with uncounted technological advances and accompanying contamination. It could be any of these changes, or it could be aliens.”
Though Jake empathized with the despair creasing their faces, the source of their discontent inactive and ignorance, he wasn't willing to commit himself to the statement. Humanity's power had generated unknown effects, created unexamined causes of unknown chronic effects, their thesis reeked of cynicism.
...
Instead of returning to the basement he went out into the world and spoke to people. He wasn't sure what he would learn by talking, and what he did encounter was beyond his imagination. People were frightened, not because of any hurt, but because of the unknown. Jake found comfort was easier to supply than knowledge, and he offered it hopefully. As the first month waned peoples' anxiety dissipated as their predicament became the new normal. With practice, and new shoes, walking became as easy as breathing. Life began again.
Jake didn't abandon his quest. He collected comforts and stories, to share and to learn, with the failing hope that it would lead to the insight he craved. He couldn't surrender.
A year after the event he found himself depleted, exhausted, and unable for the first time in month to hold back unexpected tears. He stood on the doorstep of a house and knocked quietly.
“Let no one be home,” he asked, but already he heard movement inside. A voice greeted him from inside saying, “Just a minute,” before the door opened to reveal an elderly woman. She assisted him onto a couch, chattering in an amiable and consoling manner.
“Dear,” she said, “once they were seated with two cups of steaming tea. “You've overstretched yourself. Everyone has to take care of themselves sometimes Jake.”
He looked at her in wonder, and she looked back at him with a smile. “You've worked hard, and shouldn't be surprised that you've made a name for yourself, not on the news or as a celebrity, but as someone worth knowing.”
He sipped some of his tea, holding the warm cup with both hands to offer them an occupation. He blushed, “I don't have anything to show for it.”
“Nonsense. You've got me haven't you.” She laughed. “You've got the peace of mind knowing you've done the only work worth doing, knowing and caring for others beyond yourself.”
The tears he had held back dripped slowly, making ripples in his drink. “I don't have any knowledge to offer, to solve this problem.”
“Many people think they know the answer, but they don't. It is better to know you don't know, than to pretend otherwise. A flapping mouth is as ugly as a sewage pipe.”
They sat in silence for awhile, sipping their tea in quiet as darkness gathered outside. She stood up, turned on a lamp in the far corner of the room, and sat back down. Its light offered a soft glow which didn't fully reach the other three corners. It reminded Jake of a nightlight.
“It's good you came here tonight,” she said a little while later. “For the one year anniversary of the event, the global committee of scientists planned a television broadcast on their current work.”
She turned on the TV with the remote, and its light blended with that of the lamp. Like a point of hope in the night.
A man sat in a chair behind a desk. He wore the familiar badges of his office, a white coat, glasses, and he held a pen in one hand.
“Good evening,” he greeted them. “I hope in the face of these uncertain circumstances, you have found some comfort. I am here tonight to explain our findings and thoughts. Citizens of the world, our findings are this. We still do not know the cause of our mild bodily disfigurement, the disappearance of roughly 15.6 billion pinkie toes. We have explored many options, and eliminated them, but thousands remain. We have concluded that it seems no further change is likely, nor is the transmutation likely to lead to additional injury. That, hopefully, is a comfort. We apologize that we are not able to provide a clearer hypothesis or conclusion. Though I sit here with great trust and a measure of power vested in me, my global team and I are merely people like yourselves, only with a particular training to explore and explain natural phenomenon. Know that we have not abandoned you, for we are among you. I apologize again for the inexcusable incompleteness of our work.
The quest for knowledge and understanding must never be abandoned, so we will keep searching for an answer.
Good night.”
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