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The veil. What is it?

That question has haunted me since I lost my entire family in a car accident. It was written off as bad luck. Another freak accident on another highway. Five less people in the world, right? I wish I was able to stomach the same lies as the rest of the people I brush shoulders with every morning.

To their credit, they don’t know they’re being spoon fed lies. Sometimes people need to be given things in a way that is easier to digest. They can hardly manage the trivial woes of this disgusting world – murder, rape, terrorism – so how could they manage the truth?

I work for an organization that makes that truth no more than a forgotten afterthought with a few choice words. We call it persuasive therapy but it’s really just reprogramming someone’s memories. Taking away the bits and pieces that don’t fit in with the prescribed world order.

This ‘therapy’ is dangerous and I don’t even understand it all. My whole job is accessing situations and deciding if a person is truly in danger of coming too close to the truth. I am tempted so often to let people walk away with their knowledge intact. Would it really be so dangerous if a little bit of the truth got out? How many people would actually believe it?

Then I remember the veil.

Even though I don’t know what it is, the thought of it causes many sleepless nights. Something about the veil scares me nearly as much as it makes me curious. Why would something that I don’t understand scare me the way it does? Why do I cringe whenever it comes up? It’s like an itch that I can’t scratch. A bit of information that I should know but it gets lost in the depths of my thoughts every time that I think too hard on it.

Not for the first time, I have wondered if I was one of the subjects of our persuasive therapy after the accident. I don’t understand the Veil but there is much that I do. There are beings in the world that shouldn’t be made public. Forms of power that would make the world nuclear race look like a party favor. Is my fear of such things why I was hired and brought into this program?

I don’t have much contact with any of our subjects after they’ve gone through their therapy. The only reason that I know anyone in other departments is because I have to decide which of our doctors gets a subject. Who can best work with each one, which only makes me wonder which one might have dealt with a traumatized teenager who lost her family in an accident and peered too far into a world that she shouldn’t have.

Who would have been the one to erase parts of my memory? To leave me with enough emotional memory to fear, to know that it is too dangerous to let any of the people that I investigate keep them memories, but not enough to really know why that I’m doing this? To know that the accident that killed my family wasn’t really an accident but not knowing what the full truth is?

All these questions are why I’m writing this now. It might be juvenile to keep a journal like this but I find that it’s helpful. I can put all of this on paper in a way that I can’t talk to the people closest to me. There is a clarity here that I have needed. Clarity enough to know that it can’t go on.

I can’t keep letting these questions plague me. I can’t keep wondering about this. My job is investigating others, figuring out how much they know and if it is a danger to the world as we know it. I should be able to figure this out.

Because of who I work with, I have to be careful. It won’t be easy but I need answers.

I need to know what this veil is.

I need to know more than what I have been allowed.

I need to know how much of what I know is true and how many people I have sent to our doctors because of thoughts that weren’t my own.

And I need to know if what I fear is deserving of that fear or if I should fear what I have become comfortable with my whole life.