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Veritas
Jin, Age 13, Coquitlam, BC

The alarm clocked beeped annoyingly, waking me from some hardcore sleeping. Punching it silent, I got out of bed, preparing to take a shower, but then my worst nightmare happened. My cell rang, signalling for the disaster that was to come. “No, no…please,” I begged it. Please stop. It rang on insistently. Taking a shot of water from my glass, I picked it up. “Williams here.” The caller turned out to be none other than a great pain in the backside, a walking giant zit on two legs called Detective Feng. “Kenny, we need you here at the station, now.” I stood for a second, stunned. “You complete moron!” I moaned. “First, you call me on my day off, and second, not even after I’ve had a shower!” There was silence on the line for a second, them, “You will not complain to me again. Davis is with flu, and Thoreau in Florida for vacation- you are going to come here, now. There is a serious case.” He hung up.

Getting into my unmarked VW, I turned on the radio, and drove up Creekside Ave. The police station was actually five blocks away from my house, making it easier to get there on short notice. As Michael Jackson sang the chorus of Thriller, I pulled the Routan up beside Feng’s Mazda, and turned off the radio. Holstering my service weapon, I headed inside the ever gloomy looking station. When I was inside, I did a double take. There were none of the burly policemen I had imagined there would be bustling around. Instead, there was Feng, with a small, scared looking woman and a child.

“What’s going on here, Feng?” I asked, still puzzled. He gestured towards the two others in the sitting room. “This is Mrs. Karen Hirsch, with her son, Veritas.” I nodded. “So, brief me.” Feng went and got out his clipboard, and sat back down. Mrs Hirsch, the woman, put her arms tight around the little boy, and whispered to him. He nodded, and stayed silent. Feng looked up at me. “This morning, Mrs Hirsch telephones the office to say that she has made a startling discovery about her son. After interrogation, it is revealed that this extraordinary child”- he nods toward little Veritas- “can discover whether anyone is telling the truth, or lying, upon an instant.”

I stand there, shocked, and then, laugh. “Very funny, Feng,” I smile. They are all looking at me, eyebrows up. Suddenly, Mrs Hirsch stands. “Monsieur, I can assure you, that my son is not lying. ‘e is too honest. Thus the reason for his name.” I walk over to the little child, determined to find out if this amazing gift was possible. “Veritas, I was born on the twentyeighth of August- wasn’t I?” He looked straight at me, his strange, blue eyes boring into mine. “No, sir.” He answers. “You were born on the fifth of July.” And that was the absolute truth.

I spun around, towards Feng. “He could have just as easily searched that stuff on the web…” Feng shook his head. I sat down, too stunned to move. “This could mean the end of lawyers, and justice courts. This is amazing.” Feng nodded. “We have decided to keep this confidential, until it is time to reveal it.” I am startled at that. “But we can use the help of the boy, and we could put criminals in jail, and wrongly convicted ones back out- why not now?” Feng just sighs. “The analysts are searching for any matches in people who might have this skill, other than the boy- so we will have to wait…”

1 Month Later…

A CR-V slammed into the VW, accidentally scratching the paint, and crumpling the rear bumper. “Darn!” I yell, as I slam on my horn, and move as far as I can, trapped in New York City traffic. Finally, it began to clear. I zoomed towards Terrace Gardens, where there had been a possible kidnapping. Even more anguishing was the fact that the victim was Veritas Honorius Hirsch, the eight year old with the priceless gift of knowing the truth. The commissioner’s Chevy was there, with Feng scoping the place out. I ran towards them, holstering my gun.

“What happened- a kidnapping, or anything else?” Feng just shakes his head sadly.

“There is no evidence of any kidnapping, but what we did find was a not written by the boy himself. I felt as if somebody had socked me in the stomach, hard. “And…?” I asked with a shaking voice. Feng looked towards 1435 Terrace Gardens, clenching and unclenching his fists. “He did not seem to want to be a tool for the police to use.” I bowed my head. “Any sign of where he went?” The Commissioner came up, and put his hands on our shoulders. “No, Kenny- no sign yet. And we, the only people who know his gift, will keep it that way.” I looked at them, surprised. “He could have been an enormous asset to the justice system…” The commissioner gazed calmly at me, his voice clogged with emotion. “People like him don’t like to be used by anyone- and they don’t deserve to be.”

 
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