22 Disappearance (2/2)
The man is adamant in his beliefs. He takes the fully typewritten document from the typewriter and hands it to one of his staff. This document is to be added for tomorrow's news. ”We have to continue publishing, Cynthia. The heroes did not give up their propaganda for the truth during our time of colonization.”
”This happened a hundred years ago. Make sense with yourself, Lionel. Threats are upon you. The president might take you away and have you killed. You are the only newspaper who has the guts to continue publishing despite the sanctions.”
Despite the warning he hears, Lionel remains still. He goes back to his seat and organizes more papers all around him. He even checks his safe for any remaining emergency cash that might save Lucia City Times. In his graying hair and baggy eyes, tiredness is painted all over his face. The contents of the safe is no help for it is all but empty. As he looks to find nothing, he only lets out a sigh and thinks of what to do.
”We are not profiting, Lionel,” Cynthia presses on. ”We have to stop operations. We can wait another day and let the dictatorship fall. If we continue, Lucia City Times will never rise again.”
”We don't need to profit, Cynthia,” Lionel replies calmly. ”As long as people are buying the papers, we should have enough to buy paper for another day and repair the machines.”
”But the reporters will not stay at this condition! If we go on – ”
Lionel sees the anxiety in this lady's face. He takes her into his arms to calm her down. Cynthia, who holds a babe in her arms, cradles the child as if to calm the child too. ”Hush now, my love,” Lionel says gently. ”Reporters are staying because they want to spread the truth. We will overthrow this government. Be still.”
In her sadness, Cynthia holds on to this young man tightly as if she would never let go. ”I just don't want to lose you. I can't bear to lose you. Cecily and I need you. You will have to protect yourself for me.”
Suddenly, the babe in Cynthia's arms bursts into tears. Lionel takes the child away from Cynthia's arms and cradles her softly. ”Even Cecily thinks this is dangerous,” Cynthia continues.
Lionel appears to be deaf to this. He simply cradles the child and calms her down. As he sings her a lullaby, the child woos into his keeping and takes a brief nap again. ”Cecily believes in this too,” Lionel remarks while looking into the wooing smile of Cecily. ”Whatever happens, she will always be my girl.”
As he holds little Cecily in his arms, he takes out a pendant tucked beneath her clothes. It is a pendant of silver engraved and cut in the style of a quill – the symbol of writers. Lionel cannot help but smile as he sees the pendant. This is the seal of the Chuas, the quill, for they have come from a long line of writers. He tucks the pendant once more beneath Cecily's shirt and continues to cradle her on.
*
Woah! What is that vision? I don't… I don't remember it ever happening in my life. As I try to shake off that vision, I could feel myself stumbling as I walk for my cubicle. As far as I know, Lucia City Times has been booming for much of my stay here. It never once experienced a collapse like that. We never ran out of papers. The machines are at the top of the game.And, we don't even use typewriter. We have computers for that.
Unless... It was a distant past – the time of the dictatorship in which Lucia City Times faced sanctions. I don't understand. Why on earth would I remember a vision that I am barely alive to even remember? Who are the people I saw back in my memory? I cannot help but worry for my sense of reality. I even had to double check my desk in case it had been a typewriter all along.
What is going on? Why do I remember a memory in which the boss, Mr. Lionel Chua, the only one who should remember? Ugh! I'm so confused. I cannot help but simply give myself a slight slap on the face as I drink water to clear my head. My colleagues are already looking at me to check whether I am alright. They must think I have gone nuts. I think I may have. Maybe it's just a hallucination. I have been tired recently. Maybe, the boss's stories of his struggles to keep Lucia City Times afloat is getting to my head.
I need to focus. I need to find Mateo. I take the landline phone at my side and dial-up Mateo's phone. It takes a while to get a connection. Suddenly, without even hearing that it rang, that automated voice comes up.
”Sorry, this number is currently unavailable.”
What the hell? This can't be right. His phone is always available. In my phone, I have three different phone numbers of his saved. I tried dialing each one of them. None of them even made it past the first ring. It was always the same automated voice answering me.
”Sorry, this number is currently unavailable.”
Mateo, where are you? What have they done to you?