What They Count

Director Helen Keane ran the Department of Shadow Services for eleven years before she learned the Ward was empty.

She found out on a Tuesday.

Budget review day. Annual audit of containment facilities. Standard procedure. Helen had done this audit personally every year since taking the directorship. Ward 1 through Ward 12. Verification scans. Containment integrity. Resource allocation.

It was boring as hell but it kept Congress happy.

This year was different because Congressman Davis had requested to observe. Some bullshit about transparency. About making sure taxpayer dollars were being spent appropriately.

"Show me the shadows," Davis said.

They were standing in Ward 7's observation deck. Three floors above the containment level. Helen pulled up the monitors showing rows and rows of glass containers. Each one holding a collected shadow.

"Four thousand two hundred and seventeen shadows currently in storage at this facility," Helen said. "Each one properly documented and verified."

"Can we see them in person?"

"Congressman, that's not—"

"I'm not asking for a tour. Just one floor. One section. I want to see what we're funding."

Helen felt something cold in her chest. Nobody went down to the actual containment floors. Nobody needed to. The scans showed everything. The verification logs confirmed containment status. There was no reason to physically enter the storage areas.

But she couldn't refuse a congressional request.

"Of course," Helen said. "Follow me."

They took the elevator to Level 3. Section C. Helen used her override code. The door opened.

The hallway was exactly as she remembered. Fluorescent lights. Gray walls. Rows of glass containers on both sides. Each container showing a shadow standing inside.

Perfectly still.

Helen had been down here dozens of times over the years. Had walked these halls during her first week as director. Had brought new collectors here for training.

But she'd never actually looked.

She looked now.

The shadow in container C-147 was frozen mid-step. One foot raised. Arms out for balance. Like someone had paused a video.

Helen moved to the next container. C-148. Shadow with both hands pressed against the glass. Mouth open like it was screaming.

Completely motionless.

She walked faster now. C-149. C-150. C-151. Every single shadow locked in a perfect still frame. Not breathing. Not shifting weight. Not doing any of the small unconscious movements that living things did.

"Director?" Davis's voice behind her. "These shadows aren't moving."

"They're contained," Helen said automatically. "The stasis field keeps them stable."

"What stasis field?"

Helen's mouth went dry. "The containment protocol. Standard procedure."

"I read the containment protocols before this visit. There's no mention of any stasis field." Davis moved closer to container C-147. "Director Keane, these shadows look like photographs."

Helen pulled out her scanner. Aimed it at C-147. The device beeped.

CHEN, DAVID - COLLECTED: November 8, 2022 STATUS: Contained LAST VERIFICATION: June 2, 2026 - 2:14 AM

Helen checked the date. June 3rd. Yesterday morning someone had verified this container. Had confirmed the shadow was present and accounted for.

She scanned it again.

Same result. Contained. Verified less than 24 hours ago.

"These aren't real," Helen whispered.

"What?"

She ran to the next container. Scanned it. Contained. Verified.

Next one. Contained. Verified.

She started running down the hall. Scanning every container. Every single one showed the same thing. Contained. Verified. Status normal.

Every single shadow frozen like a still image.

"Director Keane, what's happening?"

Helen stopped at the end of the hall. Looked at the hundred containers in just this one section. At the thousands more in the rest of Ward 7. At the eleven other Wards across the country.

All of them showing contained shadows.

All of them lying.

"We need to leave," Helen said.

"What? Why?"

"Now, Congressman."

She pulled him back to the elevator. Used her override code. The doors took too long to close.

In her peripheral vision, she saw something move in container C-147.

The frozen shadow turned its head.

Looked directly at her.

Then went still again.

The elevator doors closed.

Helen's office was on the top floor of the Department headquarters. Windows facing east. She'd picked this office specifically for the view.

Now she sat at her desk with the blinds closed. Monitor showing the verification logs for Ward 7.

Four thousand two hundred and seventeen shadows. All verified as contained within the last forty-eight hours.

All of them frozen in place like photographs.

Helen pulled up Ward 1. Same thing. Ward 2. Ward 3.

She went through all twelve Wards. Every single shadow verification showed the same pattern. Regular scans. Confirmed containment. Everything normal.

Everything fake.

Her phone rang. Internal line. She let it go to voicemail.

"Director, this is Morrison in Verification. I'm getting some unusual readings on the overnight scans. Can you call me back?"

Helen deleted the message.

Another call. Different extension.

"Director Keane, Torres here. I need to discuss the containment protocols. Some of the field agents are reporting inconsistencies in—"

Delete.

Three more calls in the next ten minutes. All collectors. All reporting anomalies. All starting to notice what Helen had just seen.

The Ward system was false.

Helen opened her bottom desk drawer. Pulled out the folder marked CLASSIFIED - DIRECTOR EYES ONLY.

She'd received it on her first day. Eleven years ago. Her predecessor, Director Walsh, had handed it to her with one instruction: "Read this when you're ready to understand what we actually do here."

Helen had never opened it.

She opened it now.

Inside was a single document. Dated March 15, 2001. The year the Department of Shadow Services was founded.

INTERNAL MEMO - CLASSIFICATION LEVEL 5 FROM: Secretary of Homeland Security TO: Director Walsh, Department of Shadow Services RE: Actual Mission Parameters

Director Walsh,

This memo outlines the true purpose of the Department of Shadow Services. This information is restricted to sitting directors only. All other personnel must remain unaware.

The Department's public mission is to collect and store separated shadows for public safety and research purposes. This is the mission your staff believes they are executing.

The Department's actual mission is to document and track shadow anomalies while maintaining public perception that shadows are under governmental control.

The Ward system does not contain shadows. It never has.

The "collection" process is theater. When a collector retrieves a separated shadow and places it in a containment vessel, the shadow is released remotely at an undisclosed location. The vessel is then transported to a Ward facility and logged as "contained."

The shadows in Ward facilities are projected images. High-resolution holograms designed to pass casual verification. The projection system is maintained by a separate agency not under your authority.

Verification scans are programmed to confirm containment regardless of actual status. This maintains the illusion and prevents collectors from discovering the truth.

Why this system exists:

1. Separated shadows cannot be contained. Multiple attempts from 1952-1998 all failed. Shadows are not physical objects bound by conventional physics.

2. The public requires the perception of governmental control over shadow phenomena. Without this perception, mass panic would result.

3. Actual shadow behavior and location remains unknown. The Department's real function is to track patterns and report anomalies to the oversight committee.

Your role as Director is to:

• Maintain the collection system
• Ensure collectors believe in the Ward's legitimacy
• Document all anomalies and submit quarterly reports
• Never reveal the truth to anyone outside director-level clearance
• Identify when the system begins to fail

The system will eventually fail. Shadows are becoming more independent. More frequent separations. More anomalous behavior. When public awareness reaches critical mass, the Department will transition to its secondary function: emergency response and public information management.

You will know the system is failing when:

• Shadows begin returning to their people after collection
• Multiple reports of shadows appearing in two places simultaneously
• Increase in early-manifestation cases (infant shadow separation)
• Collectors questioning verification accuracy
• Public forums discussing shadow anomalies reaching mainstream attention

When these indicators appear, proceed to PROTOCOL EVENING.

Instructions for PROTOCOL EVENING are in the attached document.

Good luck.

Helen turned to the next page.

PROTOCOL EVENING - ACTIVATION CRITERIA

When shadow anomalies reach public awareness threshold, the Department must transition from containment theater to truth management.

Step 1: Acknowledge the Ward system does not contain shadows Step 2: Shut down all Ward facilities Step 3: Reassign collectors to emergency response Step 4: Release public statement prepared by oversight committee Step 5: Prepare for societal disruption

Timeline: 72 hours from activation to full transition

Expected casualties: Unknown but significant

Expected outcome: Complete restructuring of society's relationship with shadows

Helen read it three times.

Then she pulled up the anomaly reports from the past six months.

Shadows returning to their people: 847 documented cases Shadows appearing in multiple locations: 234 cases Early manifestation in infants: 47 cases Collectors questioning verification: 31 reports in the last month Public forums discussing anomalies: 67 active threads with over 1 million combined participants

Every single indicator was present.

The system was failing.

Had been failing for months.

Helen was supposed to activate PROTOCOL EVENING.

She looked at the activation instructions. At the prepared public statement that would tell the world the truth. That the Department had been lying for twenty-five years. That every shadow they'd "collected" was somewhere else. That the government had no control over shadow phenomena and never had.

That would be the end of her career. The end of the Department. Possibly the end of organized society as they knew it.

Helen put the folder back in her drawer.

Logged out of the anomaly reports.

Went back to her regular work.

Because the truth was, she'd known.

Not consciously. Not explicitly. But somewhere deep down, she'd known the Ward was too perfect. The verification too consistent. The whole system too clean.

She'd known and she'd chosen not to look.

Same way every director before her had chosen not to look.

Same way her collectors chose not to question the scans that showed contained shadows while those same shadows walked around free.

Same way everyone chose not to see what was actually happening.

Because seeing it would mean admitting they'd built their entire careers on a lie.

Helen's phone rang again. Morrison from Verification.

This time she answered.

"Director, I'm sorry to keep calling but these readings are really concerning. The overnight scans show—"

"I'm aware of the inconsistencies," Helen said. "We're conducting a full system review. Expect new protocols by end of week."

"But Director, some of these shadows are showing up as contained while collectors are reporting them in the field. That shouldn't be possible."

"I said we're reviewing it."

"With respect, Director, I think this is more urgent than—"

"Morrison, are you questioning my assessment?"

Silence. Then: "No, ma'am."

"Good. Continue standard procedures. I'll brief the team when we have answers."

She hung up.

Outside her window, the sun was setting. Helen's shadow fell across her desk. Long and dark and perfectly synchronized with her movements.

She lifted her hand. Her shadow lifted its hand.

Perfectly matched.

Perfectly obedient.

Perfectly performing what it was supposed to perform.

Just like Helen.

Just like every person in the Department.

Just like the entire system that pretended to control something that had never been under control.

Helen pulled the folder out again. Looked at PROTOCOL EVENING.

Activation timeline: 72 hours.

Expected outcome: Complete restructuring of society's relationship with shadows.

She had a choice. Activate the protocol. Tell the truth. Let society collapse and rebuild.

Or keep the lie going. Keep the Department running. Keep people believing the shadows were contained and everything was under control.

Keep performing until the performance became impossible.

Helen looked at the date on the activation instructions.

Expected failure point: June 2026.

It was June 3rd.

They were already past the expected failure point.

The system hadn't just started failing. It had failed.

And Helen was still sitting here pretending she could fix it.

Her phone rang again. This time an external number. Unknown.

She answered.

"Director Keane, this is Senator Mitchell. I'm calling about the oversight committee meeting scheduled for June 19th."

"Senator, I have that on my calendar."

"Good. Because we need to discuss PROTOCOL EVENING." His voice was careful. Measured. "The committee believes it's time to activate."

Helen's hand tightened on the phone. "We're still evaluating—"

"Director, the public forums went mainstream yesterday. CNN ran a story about shadow anomalies this morning. We're at threshold."

"Senator, if we activate now, the panic—"

"Will happen regardless. Better we control the narrative." He paused. "June 19th. That's our deadline. If you haven't activated by then, the committee will do it for you."

"Senator—"

"This isn't a request. The system has failed. Continuing to pretend otherwise just makes the eventual revelation worse." His voice softened slightly. "Director Walsh waited too long. We won't make that mistake again."

"What happened to Director Walsh?"

"She retired six months before the system failure became obvious. Smart woman. Knew when to get out." Another pause. "You can do the same. Activate the protocol, transition the Department, and resign. Or we do it for you and you go down with the lie."

"June 19th, Director. Sixteen days."

He hung up.

Helen sat in her dark office. Looked at the folder. At the protocol that would end everything she'd built.

June 19th.

Sixteen days until she had to tell the world that every shadow they thought was safely contained was actually free. Had been free the entire time. Was doing something nobody understood while everyone pretended the government had it under control.

Sixteen days until society learned the truth.

Helen pulled up the Ward 7 monitoring feed. Watched the frozen shadows on the screen. Watched them stand perfectly still in their perfect containers.

Watched them perform containment while they were actually somewhere else entirely.

Just like Helen was performing control while everything fell apart around her.

Her shadow moved on the wall behind her.

Not much. Just a small shift.

Six inches to the left while Helen sat perfectly still.

She stared at it.

Her shadow moved again. Deliberate this time. Stepped away from her. Stood separate.

"No," Helen whispered.

Her shadow turned to look at her. Then it walked to the window. Pressed its hands against the glass.

The same way shadows had been doing for months. The same desperate pressing. Trying to get out. Trying to escape.

Trying to warn people.

Helen stood up. Walked to where her shadow was. Looked out the window at the city below.

At thousands of people going about their lives. At thousands of shadows following them. At the elaborate performance everyone maintained because the alternative was too terrifying to face.

She pulled out her phone. Started typing the activation order for PROTOCOL EVENING.

Then she stopped.

Because activating it wouldn't change anything. The shadows were already free. The truth was already breaking through. June 19th wouldn't matter because whatever was coming was already in motion.

Helen deleted the draft.

Sat back down at her desk.

Went back to her regular work.

Because that's what people did when faced with the end of everything they knew. They went back to work. They performed normal. They pretended everything was fine.

They waited for someone else to make the decision they couldn't make.

Helen would activate the protocol eventually.

Just not today.

Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe next week.

Maybe on June 19th when the Senator forced her hand.

Maybe never.

Outside her window, her shadow pressed harder against the glass.

And in Ward 7, four thousand two hundred and seventeen frozen shadows stood in their containers.

Performing containment.

While the real shadows did something else entirely.

Something nobody was watching.

Something nobody wanted to see.

Until seeing it became impossible to avoid.