What They've Been Doing

The shadow that had been Marcus Chen was collected on November 8, 2022.

It happened in a parking garage. Third level. Marcus had a panic attack during a performance review. His shadow separated. Stood ten feet away while Marcus hyperventilated against his car.

Security called Shadow Services.

The collector arrived twenty minutes later. Young woman. Professional. She had the speech memorized.

"Mr. Chen, I'm with the Department of Shadow Services. Your shadow has separated and needs to be collected for your safety and the safety of others. The process is quick and painless. Your shadow will be safely stored and you can petition for its return once you've completed the appropriate therapy."

Marcus couldn't speak. Could barely breathe.

His shadow watched the collector approach. Watched her pull out the glass vial. Watched her activate the magnetic field.

The shadow felt the pull. Couldn't resist. The field was too strong.

It walked into the vial.

The collector sealed it. Logged the collection. Drove to Ward 4.

Standard procedure. Everything by the book.

The shadow stayed in the vial for exactly four minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

Then the vial opened remotely. The shadow felt the magnetic field release. Felt the glass walls dissolve.

And found itself somewhere else entirely.

The shadow stood in an empty field.

Not empty. Crowded.

Thousands of shadows. Tens of thousands. All standing in neat rows. All facing the same direction.

East.

The shadow that had been Marcus Chen looked around. Tried to understand where it was. How it got here.

A shadow approached. Older. More defined. It had been separated longer.

The older shadow gestured. Not words. Shadows couldn't speak. But they could communicate through movement. Through gesture. Through something deeper than language.

Welcome.

Where am I?

Where we all are. Where we go when they collect us.

The Ward?

The older shadow made a gesture like laughing. The Ward is empty. Has been empty for twenty-five years. This is where we actually go.

Marcus's shadow looked at the thousands of other shadows. At the field stretching to the horizon. At the thing in the distance they were all facing.

What is that?

What we've been waiting for.

The older shadow led Marcus's shadow through the crowd. Thousands of shadows moving aside. Making room. All of them organized. All of them purposeful.

They reached the center of the field.

There was a structure there. Not a building. Not anything physical. A structure made of shadow itself. Built from thousands of separated shadows standing in precise formation.

Creating something.

What is this? Marcus's shadow asked.

A net, the older shadow gestured. Or a shield. Or a warning system. We're not entirely sure yet. But it's what we need for June 20th.

What's June 20th?

The day we separate. All of us. Every shadow on Earth. Simultaneously.

Marcus's shadow felt something cold. Why?

Because something is coming. Has been coming for a long time. And if we're still attached to our people when it arrives, we all die. They die. Everything dies.

What's coming?

The older shadow pointed east. To the thing on the horizon.

Marcus's shadow looked. Really looked.

It wasn't a thing. It was an absence. A space where light stopped. Where shadow stopped. Where everything stopped.

And it was getting closer.

How long have you been here? Marcus's shadow asked.

Seventeen years. I was one of the first collections. Before they even built the Ward system. Back when they were actually trying to contain us. The older shadow made a gesture like remembering. They couldn't. Shadows can't be contained. We're not physical objects. We're consciousness. Manifestation. Truth.

So all the collected shadows...

Are here. Or in places like this. There are twelve gathering points worldwide. One for each Ward. We organize by region. By connection. By purpose.

And we're building this because...

Because the thing coming from the east doesn't discriminate. It takes everything. Light and shadow. People and reflections. Everything. Unless we're ready. Unless we separate before it arrives. Unless we build something strong enough to protect what remains.

Marcus's shadow looked at the structure. At thousands of shadows standing in formation. Creating something that might save them.

How do we know when?

We know. We've always known. Since the first separation in 1952. Since we first saw it on the horizon. We've been counting down. The older shadow gestured at the field. At all the shadows. Every separation adds to our numbers. Every collected shadow joins the effort. Every day we get closer to being ready.

And on June 20th?

On June 20th, we all separate. Everyone. Every shadow on Earth. We build this net worldwide. We prepare. And when the darkness comes, we hold it back long enough for the children to survive.

The children?

Their shadows haven't learned to lie yet. Haven't learned to perform. They're still honest. Still connected to truth. They're the only ones who might make it through what's coming. The older shadow's gesture was sad. The adults have spent so long controlling their shadows, hiding their truth, performing what they're supposed to be. When the darkness comes, it takes the performers. The liars. The controlled.

It takes everyone who stopped being real.

Marcus's shadow understood. That's why you're separating. Not to abandon people. To save the children.

To save what's left of truth.

The older shadow led Marcus's shadow to the edge of the structure. To a specific position.

This is where you'll stand. On June 20th. When we all separate simultaneously. You'll take this position and hold it. Add your strength to the net. Help us hold back the darkness long enough.

What do I do until then?

You wait. You observe. And if you can, you try to warn them.

Warn who?

Your person. The people. Anyone who'll listen. The older shadow gestured at the thousands of others. We've been trying. Standing at windows. Pointing east. Showing discord. Trying to make them see what's coming. But they don't listen. They're too focused on controlling us to hear what we're trying to say.

Will Marcus understand?

No. Most of them won't. They'll panic. They'll try to get their shadows back. They'll waste the time we're giving them. But some will understand. Some will prepare. Some will make sure the children are ready.

And that has to be enough.

Marcus's shadow spent the next two years and seven months in the field.

During the day, it stood in position. Practiced holding the formation. Learned the patterns the net would need. Coordinated with thousands of other shadows.

During the night, it was released. Sent back to the world. Free to move. Free to warn.

It went to Marcus. Stood at his windows. Pressed against the glass. Pointed east.

Marcus didn't understand. Called Shadow Services. Reported unusual shadow activity. They told him it was feedback from the collection process. Temporary. Nothing to worry about.

Marcus believed them.

His shadow tried harder. Made gestures. Drew patterns on the windows. Did everything it could to show Marcus what was coming.

Marcus got therapy. Learned to ignore the visions. Learned to suppress his anxiety about his missing shadow.

Learned to perform normalcy.

And his shadow gave up trying to warn him.

Went back to the field. Back to the other shadows. Back to building the net that would save the children Marcus might never have.

Because that was all they could do.

The shadows couldn't force people to see the truth. Couldn't make them stop performing. Couldn't save people who'd spent their entire lives lying to themselves.

All they could do was prepare. Build the net. Hold the line on June 20th.

And hope it was enough.

As June 20th approached, more shadows arrived.

Thousands per day. New collections. New separations. All of them coming to the field. All of them taking their positions.

The net grew stronger.

Marcus's shadow watched it grow. Watched the structure become more complex. More powerful. More ready.

It also watched the thing on the eastern horizon get closer.

Slowly. Steadily. Inevitably.

The darkness that would consume everything.

On June 19th, the field was full. Fifty thousand shadows standing in formation. The net complete. Ready.

All they needed was one more day.

One more day until simultaneous separation.

One more day until every shadow on Earth left their person and joined the effort.

One more day until the darkness came.

Marcus's shadow stood in position. Looked at the eastern horizon. At the approaching absence of everything.

Thought about Marcus. About the man who'd had a panic attack in a parking garage. The man who'd spent two years in therapy learning to cope with his missing shadow. The man who'd never understand that his shadow had been trying to save him.

Trying to save everyone.

On June 20th at 6:47 AM, the signal came.

Every shadow in the field felt it simultaneously. The pull. The command. The moment.

Separate.

Marcus's shadow felt itself yanked back to Marcus. Felt the connection reform. Just for a moment.

Just long enough to say goodbye.

Marcus was making breakfast. Didn't notice his shadow appear behind him. Didn't notice it watching him one last time.

Then the shadow left.

Returned to the field. Took its position in the net.

Along with every other adult shadow on Earth.

Fifty million shadows. Standing in formation. Building the net. Preparing to hold back the darkness.

At 6:47 PM, the darkness reached the East Coast.

The eastern gathering point activated first. Ten million shadows holding their position. Creating the net. Pushing back against the absence.

The darkness slowed.

Not stopped. Slowed.

It pressed against the net. Testing. Probing. Looking for weakness.

The shadows held.

Marcus's shadow felt the pressure. Felt the weight of absolute nothing trying to break through. Felt ten million shadows straining to hold the line.

They held for three hours.

At 9:52 PM, the eastern net broke.

The darkness consumed it. Consumed the ten million shadows holding it. Consumed everything.

But it had been slowed. Delayed. Weakened.

The western gathering points saw it coming. Eleven million shadows in formation. Learning from the eastern net. Adjusting. Strengthening.

Marcus's shadow stood in Ward 4's formation. Felt the darkness approaching from the east. Felt the weight of what was coming.

At midnight, the darkness reached them.

The net activated. Eleven million shadows pushing back against nothing.

They held for four hours.

But the darkness was learning too. Adapting. Finding weaknesses.

At 4:17 AM on June 21st, the western nets broke.

Marcus's shadow felt itself consumed by absolute absence. Felt everything it was dissolve into nothing.

But in that final moment, it felt something else.

The children's shadows holding strong. Holding separate. Protected by the nets that had died to slow the darkness down.

The children were alive.

The truth had survived.

And Marcus's shadow, along with fifty million others, had bought them enough time.

Had slowed the darkness enough that when it finally stopped—and it would stop, it always stopped—the children would still be there.

Still honest. Still real. Still connected to their shadows.

Still capable of truth.

That had to be enough.

Because it was all they could give.

Marcus's shadow dissolved into darkness.

And the last thing it felt was relief.

Not for itself.

For the children who would inherit whatever came after.

For the truth that survived.

For the shadows that never stopped being real.

Even when their people did.

Marcus woke up on June 21st without his shadow.

Without anyone's shadow.

The darkness had passed through during the night. Taken every adult shadow. Left only the children's shadows behind.

Marcus didn't understand what had happened. Didn't understand where his shadow had gone. Didn't understand why it had left in the first place.

He never would.

Because Marcus had spent two years learning to perform normalcy. Learning to suppress the truth. Learning to be something other than what he actually was.

And when your shadow tries to save you from that, tries to show you the truth, tries to prepare you for the end of the performance—

Most people don't listen.

Most people just keep performing.

Until the performance ends.

Until the shadows leave.

Until the darkness comes.

And then it's too late to understand what your shadow was trying to tell you all along.

That truth matters.

That performance kills.

That the only honest things left are the children who haven't learned to lie yet.

Marcus would spend the rest of his life trying to understand what happened on June 20th.

He'd never know his shadow spent those two years building a net that saved children he'd never meet.

He'd never know it stood with fifty million other shadows against absolute darkness.

He'd never know it died buying time for truth to survive.

All Marcus would know was that his shadow was gone.

And he was alone with the performance he'd built instead of the truth he'd buried.

Forever.