THE VANISHING

Please sit down, dear reader, because what I have to say may alarm you. It seems that lately, people have been disappearing in broad daylight. There are no warning signs or treatable symptoms, and there is no way of knowing when or where it will happen, or who it will happen to. Rich, poor, young, old. One, two or three at a time, without rhyme or reason, it just happens.
One moment you could be sitting in a crowded theater watching a movie; any movie, really, with a hundred other strangers, just minding your own. And the next moment, just as they raise a hand to flick a piece of popped corn into their hungry maw, if you watch carefully, you might actually see them drop out of sight from the corner of your eye, without so much as a sound or flicker; the kernel tumbling unclaimed, and the bucket spilling to the floor.
There's usually a commotion afterwards; the anguished cries of a distraught parent, or those of a frightened child now abandoned in the world, and not even knowing why.
It's kind of unnerving at first, and you'll find you want to do something, anything to help or comfort; it's human nature to care. And undoubtedly, someone will mutter the word "law", followed closely by "suit". But where would you even begin to file a claim against the supernatural?
When you finally realize that there is absolutely, positively nothing that you or anyone else can do about it, you'll find it easier to simply accept what's happened, and go back to business as usual, and even those muttering ugly phrases will cease their complaints.
After all, how the hell can you prevent yourself from vanishing into thin air? (Besides, an empty seat has just opened, one much closer to the screen than your own; go on, take it. It's human nature!)
You could invite all your friends and loved ones over, draw tight the blinds, bolt the doors, and huddle together in a big pile on the living room floor; staring at each other in open-mouthed fear, with hands clenched white and arms wrapped like frightened snakes around the necks of your acquaintances in ever-tightening, teary-eyed embraces for hours, days, weeks on end, in the wildly illogical belief that if you never, ever take your eyes off one another, even for a second, you can defend your little circle of friends from the threat of this strange and terrible phenomenon.
Well, let me tell you a little secret, friend; you've wished in one hand. Might as well shit in the other.
The conversation between two lovers in a similar vein might go something like this: "If you love me, you won't take your eyes off me!" she shrieks again and again, the rising hysteria in her voice sending chills down his spine. He's never seen her so afraid, but dutifully he returns the vow. "Yes, of course I love you; I promise, I won't take my eyes from you! I swear, I love you, I do! I won't let you go!"
Fool.
It's a very sweet sentiment, but I can tell you from experience the success rate is rather low.
First his eyes will grow tired, and then they'll get heavier, and then they'll begin to burn a little from drying out.
"You don't love me! You're thinking about blinking!" she'll screech at him accusingly. After all, it's probably written all over his face, and soon, it will consume his mind; all he can think about is how good one quick blink will feel to his tired eyes! Again, human nature.
"I have to blink, just once!" he'll think to himself. "I know, I'll wait until she blinks first, so we'll be even, and she can't say I didn't care, because she blinked first!" A cunning plan, and he'll no doubt congratulate himself on its merits, hoping to put off the deed as long as he can. But soon the moment comes, and he just can't wait anymore! What harm can one blink do?
So he does it. He blinks. And in that instant, there's a sudden, slack sensation in his arms, and he finds himself rolling forward with a lurch, his body leans on nothing, and he's all alone in the room.
Just like that, she's gone. A pit appears where his stomach used to be, and he'll live the rest of his life-- before he vanishes, too-- wishing he weren't so weak. Don't be too hard on yourself, my friend; what more could you have done?
The wealthy will no doubt demand that the government install more and more and bigger and bigger cameras to keep an extra special watch on them, and their important friends and families and aides, but it still won't do any good. Not only will those on camera continue to vanish, but so will the ones watching the monitors. And what good will that do? And, more importantly, who'll be left to justify spending so much money on all those empty cameras?
You could go out to a store and buy an EPIRB (Electronic Position Indicating Radio Beacon), which is common to the maritime community. It's a small device that, in the event of a vessel overturning or sinking, beams a locating signal to a communications satellite, which, in turn, relays it back to one of a hundred control centers around the globe, and sends people scurrying like a house afire.
Dear reader, you might as well buy ten of the best and shove the eleventh you-know-where for all the good they'll do. Because when you disappear, the signal vanishes with you.
You could gather together a mountain of packaged foods, pallets of bottled water, flashlights, cameras, can openers, and a game of Yahtzee for good measure, and lock yourself away in an underground bunker; a concrete fortress built in the days when folks felt it feasible to foil the feared fucking fickle finger of fallout from global thermonuclear warfare, but so far there hasn't been a wall thick enough to stop anyone from vanishing like fog in sudden strong sunlight.
You could say something heroic like, "Fuck this! I'm not sticking around here!" as you leap into your car and stomp the gas. Drive as far and fast as you can, Sunshine, and don't bother stopping to piss. It will pluck you from your seat no matter how tight you cinch the belt or roll up the windows. Your car will rocket madly down the road without a driver, eventually rolling to a stop against a telephone pole, or some innocent pedestrians crossing the street. Is that how you want to go?
"Well, then what the hell can I do?" you ask, perplexed and annoyed. Since we have reached the end of the story, I'll tell you.
You could just go on about your life as the epitome of calm dignity; show up to work on time, attend your classes, keep your appointments and dinner dates with your friends, wearing a smile for those you meet on the street, and do your best to comfort those who have lost another. You could simply accept "what is" for "what is", and at the end of the day, climb into bed, pulling the covers up no higher than normal, and sleep the sleep of the just, hoping to still be there in the morning.
Oddly enough, this too is human nature.