School was every bit as annoying as usual. Except today, I spent a lot of time looking over my shoulder. My paranoia was in high alert. At any moment, I was expecting the men in black to come barging through the door of my classroom and point to me, saying, “Get him!” Is this what it felt like smuggling contraband? It was absolutely nerve-wracking.

I came to rest my hand in my pocket right over my plastic bag. Why would I bring the evidence to school with me, you ask? Simple. My plan was to take the feather to the lab during study hall today. I wanted to view it under a microscope. What would that tell me? No idea. It wasn’t like I even knew what I was looking for. Yet I felt the need to try. Someone in this town had to.

I also found myself wondering about beyond our town. Were there men in black all over the country? How far did this warning extend? Maybe I could look it up online during our tech class. There had to be some number of answers somewhere. If there was a widespread plague, it would be online.

I felt nervous throughout the entire day. Any time someone spoke to me, I could just sense that somehow, they knew I was hiding something. Not to mention the amount of guilt I felt for potentially putting myself and everyone else at risk if this feather was a ticking time bomb. I could swear that I felt a tingle in my fingertips from brushing them up against the bag so much all day. Maybe that was just a placebo. I certainly hoped that was the case.

Computer class came first. I rushed through my annoying assignments in order to gain free time at the end of class. The very first thing I typed into the search bar was “Why can’t we touch the birds?” Very straightforward. Oddly enough, the only thing that came up was an article warning about not touching baby birds. Otherwise, their mothers will abandon them. Maybe it was my search.

My next attempt was to ask the search engine “What is wrong with the birds?” This brought up classic films like Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. It gave me a quick synopsis of the film. Which I didn’t find helpful. These birds weren’t attacking anyone. They were just normal, regular, basic, boring birds.

Maybe a different search would help. “Are the birds infected?” I threw that into the ether and waited for it to load my response. This just brought up a variety of potential culprits. A list of diseases that birds were capable of catching. None of which would cause the government to send in agents to infest a small town like ours. I felt a bit frustrated. Why wasn’t I finding any answers? Did that mean that this was isolated to the town itself? Wouldn’t there still be something on our local news page? That was my next go-to. I searched for our news station and tried to find anything, even remotely relating to birds. I did find something. Just a brief warning not to touch or go near the birds. Nothing helpful that I didn’t already know.

Suddenly, there was a power surge. The whole room went dark. The students screamed and acted all dramatically. Like teenagers do. Some giggled. Some asked for help. Very few cried about the loss of their progress. After about a full minute of this, the lights came back on. After which, the computers started to boot back up to become operational.

The birds become a topic of conversation, and no one bats an eye. But the power goes out, and the students went nuts. Priorities. At least there was something capable of getting a reaction out of them. But only a brief one. Shortly after everything was restored, everyone was right back to normal.

I decided to try another search. “Why are we having power surges in town?” Would you be surprised to know that this search wasn’t helpful either. All it led me to was our local power company. I was able to send in a complaint, or I could talk to customer service. As if that would get me anywhere.

Wait.

I scrolled through the “Contact Us” section. They had a chat option available. I looked around the room once more to see my teacher busy with his work behind his own computer. Also, I am simply not subtle whatsoever when I am about to do something questionable.

I typed into the chat. “Hello?”

“Hello. This is Monica. Can I have your account number and name, please?”

“Sorry, I don’t have an account number. I just had a quick question. What is up with all these power surges?”

“Are you currently without power?”

“I have power. It just came back on.”

“Then is there anything else I can help you with?”

“The surges. Why? Why are they happening?”

“I’m sorry, you said your power was restored, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then there is nothing I can do to further assist you.”

“You can’t tell me why the surges are happening?”

It was then that the chat disconnected from her end. Thanks a ton, Monica. I wish there were a way to rate her performance because that was rude, in my opinion. Sure, maybe she really didn’t know. Or maybe… I had a thought. Maybe she wasn’t allowed to answer me. Was this whole thing some kind of government conspiracy? No way. Right? Our town was too small for that. Why would they be playing around with us?

Maybe we were the perfect targets. Everyone in a small town like this just minded their own business. They didn’t ask questions. Which is exactly what they would have wanted. Let’s just say they were poisoning our birds for some reason. How could they contain the birds to our town? How would they prevent the spread to other areas? We didn’t live in some dome. How would they prevent the poison from spreading to us? I suppose by telling us to avoid the birds. Maybe they just didn’t want to cause a huge panic. But I felt a panic within me to not have answers. A panic and a frustration.

Next came the study hall. I had been waiting for this. Not that I figured it would be much more helpful than my search online was. I was no scientist.

I was alone in the room.

Perfect.

I very carefully extracted the baggie from my pocket. I grabbed a pair of gloves, did my signature look around the room, and then opened the bag. I didn’t even want to touch it. But I had to. I slowly took hold of the feather and prepared the microscope. After getting the feather properly focused, I discovered exactly what this was. It was an ordinary, regular feather. As if I expected to see the mites of disease all over it or something. I felt a bit let down. It looked so normal. Every bit of its structure looked like a basic feather. No matter how long I looked, the thing didn’t change or do anything spectacular.

Suddenly, the door opened behind me. My heart jumped into my throat, and I slapped at the microscope in a hurry to snatch up the feather in order to hide it. There was nothing subtle about my approach. I crammed the loose feather into my pocket and turned back to see Phil approaching me.

“Oooo, he’s stealing!” Phil called out playfully as he closed the gap between us. “What are you doing actually studying, nerd?” He laughed. My eyes were still huge. My jaw was tight. My hands were still in my pockets. My lips were pressed together in a tight frown. I hadn’t been able to think up a lie in time. I didn’t know I would need one.

“Just… messing around.” I tried so hard to chuckle.

“What cha got there?” He poked at my pocket, being all up in my personal space. Typical.

“My pants?” I asked him, feigning confusion.

“Nah, in your pocket, dork.” He teased. “Were you actually stealing?”

“No!” I was a bit offended considering I had never stolen anything in my life. “I didn’t take anything.” I pulled my hands out of my pockets. “I was just testing things under the microscope.”

“Oh, buddy.” He sighed sadly, “It’s not about the size, you know? Don’t feel bad.”

“Oh, shut up.” I wanted to punch his arm, but I didn’t want to contaminate his clothing. Much like I had already contaminated mine. I would likely have to burn these pants or something now. “Shouldn’t you be studying, or flirting with Chelsea, or clogging a toilet somewhere?”

“Hardy har.” He rolled his eyes. “IBS is no joke, my friend.”

“What do you want?” I tried to sound as pleasant as possible. But I was freaking out just a little bit because I think the feather came into contact with my writs when I pushed it into my pocket. That was kind of dominating my thoughts now.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t know I was harshing your vibes or whatever.” He sounded almost hurt. Just almost. “Really. What are you doing in here. You know I’m chill.”

“You’re too chill.” I conceded with a sigh. I looked over his shoulder. No one else was coming. “Look, I’ll tell you. But you can’t tell anyone. Got it?”

“You’re my only friend.” He reminded me. “No one else talks to me.”

“Fair point.” I pulled the feather from my pocket and cupped my hands around it for him to peer into them at it.

“Dude.” He took one look at it, and this looked back up to me. “You are obsessed with birds.”

“Don’t start that now.” I brought the feather back to the microscope, needing to set it up again after I had slapped it around in my panic.

“You’re probably not supposed to be touching that.” He said plainly.

“That’s what the gloves are for.” I said.

“What did you find out, Einstein?” He leaned back against the table and folded his arms.

“That’s just it. Nothing.” I felt defeated. I searched over the feather again in case I had missed something. But the results were all the same. I didn’t see a single thing out of place.

“Was it worth it?” He asked. “Ripping that feather off a poor bird? The things we do for science.” He tutted.

“I found it.” I groaned in my building frustration. “I have no idea how to further test this thing. Do you think the birds are poisoned?”

“I gotta be honest with you, Devin. I don’t even think about birds. At all.”

I stopped what I was doing to look him in the face now. I had to see his expression. He was always a chill dude. But I was surprised just how chill he was being here. It was almost as if he and all these other people were blinded to what was going on. Like they were in their own little bubbles.

“Have you or someone you know come into contact with a bird in the last twenty-four hours?” He suddenly asked me.

“What?” I was taken off guard.

“What am I supposed to say to that now?” He shook his head.

“You say no.” I told him. I suddenly felt a bit of fear growing within me. A fear that my own best friend would hand me over to those men in black. For me to disappear. Never to be seen again.

“Aye.” He nodded. “Relax. You know I’m ride or die.”

I felt the relief wash over me like a cool mountain spring. “You got me there for a second.”

“Seriously, though.” He gave a nod to the feather, “You have got to get past this obsession with birds.”