Manuel felt both honored and privileged to be invited to the base of the Federal Bureau of Language. Among the ten students chosen nationwide, he was the youngest, a college senior of only twenty. The group was to be given a rare glimpse into the locked and heavily guarded gates of the base. In it contained the classified, state-of –the-art technologies, which continuously safeguarded the nation from the threat of competing languages.
As part of the selection process, a thorough background check was conducted of each applicant. Only those who possessed the views of the party and associated with others who likewise held these ideals were considered. Digging deeply into their past, their family’s past, and their acquaintance’s past, the Bureau sought to ensure that there were not any corrupting forces, which might taint the individual’s ideological beliefs, no windows into another’s point of view.
A party member was required to view the annihilation of all other languages as a necessity to the economic success of the nation, and as the means by which the unity of humankind could be achieved. He was expected to possess a deep-seeded hatred for competing languages, likening them to a deadly epidemic. Although this was never directly stated, it was crucial that this attitude be expressed in the written essay, which asked each of the potential candidates to explain why he or she decided to attend the academy and subsequently seek employment with the FBL. It was this essay that separated Manuel from the rest of the applicants and became his ticket inside the FBL. But they were Julie’s words, Julie’s thoughts, which Manuel had written. And he wished he could take them back. He wished his voice could be heard.
It was a frigid morning in January, and the sun peeked over the horizon as the bulletproof limousine pulled into Manuel’s driveway to bring him to the Center. Despite the brutal weather, Manuel had been waiting on his front porch for several hours in the darkness, unable to sleep. His baggy eyes turned toward the front porch where his parents, fiancé, and daughter were waving goodbye, his mother waving with her left hand and videotaping the moment with her right.
“Goodbye,” his father said.
“See you soon,” his mother said.
“We love you. We’re so proud of you honey,” Julie said, her eyes becoming watery.
The chaffer opened the door for Manuel’s chaperone.
“Mr. Luhon, we need to see your three forms of identification and do a preliminary inspection of your persons before you can be admitted into the car.”
“Yes sir, no problem sir.”
“You, as well as myself and our driver, will have to undergo a more thorough inspection as we near the headquarters. The inspectors will explain what to do. You are to immediately follow their commands without question, at all times. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir.”
The inspector searched Manuel for both weapons and foreign words. He started by moving the metal-detecting wand about every inch of his body. Then came the pat down. And finally, at least for now, the x-ray machine, which would reveal any potentially harmful items either missed by the inspector or stored in his stomach to be retrieved the moment nature took its course. All the x-ray detected were a few cups of coffee and a partially digested bagel. They climbed into the limousine, and Crystal and Manuel’s parents watched as the limousine pulled out of the driveway, down the road, disappearing as it zipped around a turn.
“Geez, this is some serious stuff, huh. They don’t take anything for granted,” said Crystal
Once within a ten-mile radius the vehicle had to pass through a total of ten checkpoints – one at each subsequent mile – where each passenger had to show their three forms of identification and undergo an inspection similar to the one Manuel had already experienced. Manuel grinned, realizing that the inspector was now becoming the inspected. The first nine checkpoints went without incident. The last checkpoint, however, was more thorough.
In addition to being patted down, x-rayed, and scanned by the wand, Manuel was told that each of them had to undergo a strip search, including a full-body-cavity search. “Isn’t this a bit extreme?” thought Manuel, but he pushed these thoughts aside, realizing this was a matter of national security.
The inspector, a tall man with a large build, signaled for the car to stop and it came to a halt, jarred backward, and the man exited. He wore a certified coat with the FBL’s logo imprinted on his left breast pocket – a solitary bald eagle in flight, peering down at the Earth. He opened the car door for their party and Manuel exited.
“How do you do sir?” Manuel said.
The inspector starred at him for an uncomfortable length of time. “Everybody follow me behind the curtains and take off all your clothes accept your underwear.”
“Oh no,” thought Manuel.
He now realized the extent to which the essay had consumed his time. He did not have time to perform many of his daily living tasks. His hair was greasy from not washing, his teeth hadn’t been brushed in several days, and he hadn’t showered in a week. His laundry was dirty. Not once during the ten days did he leave his apartment, and without visitors he felt comfortable in a swimsuit, the heat cranked up and his whites dirty in the corner. Manuel never had a chance to catch up on laundry, and in the midst of realizing his dream, at the final search before the headquarters, he was without underwear and being told to get undressed in front of two strangers. He would be the only one completely nude, the others protected by their briefs and his manhood staring them in the face, making a mockery of him.
They followed him to the makeshift room where the limousine driver and Markus undressed, Manuel standing with a sinking feeling and awestruck look upon his face. His jaw was open and he looked as though his paling body was going to pass out. The others had done as asked. The guard noticed Manuel’s suspicious demeanor and demanded he take off his clothing.
Before Manuel had a chance to explain, the alarm sounded and he was tackled to the ground, handcuffed, and brought into the interrogation room for a full body cavity search. The inspector noticed that he was without underwear and soon formed the obvious hypothesis of Manuel’s actions. Nevertheless, when nothing showed up, the inspector brought him into the other section of the interrogation room for a fully recorded questioning session.
“Why, Mr. Luhon, did you disobey the inspector’s order?”
“It’s really kind of embarrassing, sir. I wasn’t wearing any underwear and I did not feel comfortable being the only nude one in our group.”
“Why, sir, were you not wearing any underwear?”
Looking back on it, it almost seems humorous, if not for the very real effects. Manuel was forced to tell the entire story. The fifteen-minute version. At the end of his story he looked at the clock, no longer embarrassed, but increasingly agitated. “You have to believe me, sir. I’m telling you the truth,” he said. He bit his fingernails, spiting them on the black and white marble tiles and waiting for a response.
“We believe you; the lie detector is infallible.”
“Thank God. May I be on my way then?”
“Certainly.”
“Thank you sooo much.”
Understanding the need for punctuality, the driver and chauffer had already left and another driver came to pick Manuel up. He pulled up in a hurry, screeching the tires to a halt and nearly missing Manuel who dove to the side.
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