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The Agency

Writer's picture: Rachael Twumasi-CorsonRachael Twumasi-Corson

Updated: Jan 16

She disappeared on a dreary Sunday morning in Spring. The kind of dull, grey morning that made me miss the thrill of my old job a little. Not the type of day when you expect anything to happen. But then, I suppose, you never expect your toddler to vanish. Not when you’re racing between rooms in your cramped little townhouse playing peekaboo-hide-and-seek.


“Sophia?” I called out, trying to mask my panic after twenty minutes of frantic searching. I silently cursed my husband for suggesting we buy the place. Its steep staircases and long, narrow hallways made it impossible to navigate at speed in a crisis.


The idea struck me that Sophia may have slipped outside and I wasn't sure if I'd closed the gate to the main road. I dashed to the back door, clutching my keys and trying to calm my pounding heart. Then, like a scene from a nightmare, I saw her.


My little Sophia, tears streaming down her cheeks, being held by a tiny woman from The Agency in my kitchen. They always send women like her — small and unassuming, their harmless stature a perfect mask.


I lunged forward, scooping Sophia into my arms without resistance from the Agent. I held my daughter like my life depended on it, wiping her tears as I held back mine. Then I hugged her tight hoping it wouldn't be the last time.


“Your daughter has been identified as the perfect subject for The Agency's research." The woman said, her voice just as cold and clinical as mine used to be. "I’m informed you’re already aware of the protocol. Fill the forms, please, Mrs Allotey.” 


Sophia quivered in my lap, her tiny frame trembling against mine. I stared at the bright Duplo blocks in the corner, the cheerful colours feeling disturbingly out of place. My heart raced as I struggled to find words.


"She's so young. Could it have been a mistake?"


"The Algorithm doesn't make mistakes."


“Of course. I’m sorry, I just—can we have a bit of time alone?”


I clutched my baby tighter, a wave of dread crashing over me. This could be the last time I’d hold her, the last time I’d breathe in the sweet honey scent of her hair after a bath, the last time I’d feel her perfect little body against me as she played with her ten adorable toes—perfect replicas of mine. The thought of losing her so suddenly was unbearable.


“I’m afraid that’s not possible—”


Just then, her phone rang, an unexpected stroke of luck.


“I’ll take this outside,” she said, stepping through the screen doors to the garden, leaving us alone with the ticking clock of our fate.


I kissed Sophia on both cheeks, then her forehead and chin. Our little ritual when she was scared. "Shh, baby, it will be okay," I said. Forcing a cheery tone and a smile.


She smiled back and stroked my cheek. I crumbled at her instant belief in my lies. I didn't deserve her trust.


Hugging Sophia over my shoulder so she couldn't see me fall apart, I stared at the screen in front of me, my finger hovering over the Additional Notes tab where I could write my final letter, my last goodbye. They were asking me to sign away my own baby. But I knew the truth: they’d take her anyway. If I fought, they’d take her and hurt my husband as a warning to others.


I knew these monsters intimately. I’d been their tentacle: stretching out into families to snatch away their children for the so-called good of humanity because The Algorithm told me so. I'd seen their arrogant cruelty firsthand. I knew that they didn't even know why they did the things they did, just that The Agency existed to give hands to The Algorithm. Now those hands threatened to rip apart my own family. And part of me felt I deserved it. But not Sophia, not my sweet little girl. I had to do something, but I was helpless.


Resistance wasn't just futile; it was folly, a death wish. In the years after I left—once I had a child of my own—I often thought about the false choice they'd presented: comply and drown in guilt until you die of a broken heart, but at least keep your family together, or fight and lose everything. Remembering the screaming children I carted away made my stomach churn.


At least if I complied I could leave Sophia a letter. They may never give it to her, but they wouldn’t destroy it. Protocol was important, record-keeping essential. I'd found dozens of these hastily written letters hidden in The Agency's database. I knew that many families were reunited because The Algorithm decided to give some children the letters from their parents. I could bank on the infinitesimal chance she’d be given it one day. Love for my daughter boiled over, blistering my soul as I agonised over how to distil my heart into 1500 characters. 


With every passing second, the chance to say anything at all slipped further away. My mind raced as I fought against the panic consuming me. I had to think clearly. To choose my words carefully. Words were all I had. My letter would be the only lifeline, the only guidance, the only love I could offer her once The Algorithm tore us apart.


My dearest Sophia. Delete.


My darling. Delete.


Sophia, I’m so sorry. Delete.


The cruel limit taunted me. 1500 characters. What could I do with 1500 characters? 


Rage burnt through me. They said I could leave. They said if I helped with one last stupid, greedy project that I could be free. I never quite trusted them, always kept a bag packed just in case I needed to escape without notice, but that didn't make me any less angry. I flipped over the input pad and holoscreen in a moment of fury. It bounced up from the floor - an insurance feature that halved our extortionate insurance premiums after we had Sophia. I raced over and grabbed it from the air just as The Agent returned.


“I’m such a klutz, so sorry.”


“Please complete the forms,” she said, with the subtle regret of someone who knew my pain.


“You’re a parent?” I asked, suddenly hopeful. “I can tell. You wouldn’t do this, would you? You’d fight back. You’d fight and you wouldn’t let them take your child." I remembered all the mothers who had tried to run, who'd swung for me, who chased me kicking and screaming as their children were taken. "You must think I’m an awful mother.” 


“It’s not my place to judge, Mrs Allotey. My superiors inform me it’s essential we return the subject to the test site within the hour. Please complete the forms.”


I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. Water and mucus mixed on my face as I sobbed out my plea: “Just 5 more minutes, please.” Sophia's cries grew louder, she'd never seen me cry, she looked terrified.


Our front door slammed. Elijah home from his jog. 


“Darling? Darlings?” He chirped.


Sophia stopped crying instantly and turned towards her daddy whilst I clutched my squirming twenty-three-and-a-half-month-old tighter. It was selfish but I needed this last hug. I swallowed a pang of guilt. He needed her to toddle over and cuddle his leg one last time, but he didn’t know that yet.


“Just had the most exhausting hill run,” he said. “25 mins. New PB for a 5k.”


“Mmm hmmm,” I replied as he swigged from his bottle.


The Agency woman cleared her throat. “Mr Allotey-”


Elijah jumped. “Oh sorry, didn’t know we were expecting company.”


“We weren’t,” I said. Struggling not to blubber and ruin his last moments with Sophia. She was a daddy’s girl through and through.


“Pleased to meet you,” he said, holding out a hand to The Agent.


“I’m from The Agency,” she said.


“Oh.” He took back his hand and eyed her with suspicion. “So, are you here to recruit?” he asked.


“Your wife is filling the forms.”


“Will we be remunerated? Last time I took part in one of these research things they made sure my time was–”


“She’s not here to offer money, Elijah, it’s a mandatory state experiment. She's not here for you, or me. The Algorithm chose.”


“Sorry, what?”


“Please complete the forms, I need to leave in the next 3 minutes.”


I squeezed my eyes shut. I needed to pray, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to that since I joined The Agency. Even leaving hadn’t cleared my conscience, hadn’t touched my record of evils.


“Why are you here?” Elijah asked. Firm and strong where I was falling apart. My heart pounded with love for him even as raw fear pulsed through my veins. 


“She’s taking Sophia,” I said as calmly as I could. “The Algorithm needs her for this cohort.”


“What? No. She's too young. It's not safe.”


“I’m afraid the decision has been made sir.” The Agent said, any hint of empathy replaced with irritation at the delay.


He raised his voice. “No. We object. We refuse, we have rights. She has rights.” He pointed at Sophia who started crying again, not used to seeing her dad so angry.


“I’m sorry but I am on a schedule,” The Agent said, standing up and reaching for our baby, as if taking back a holopad.


She calmly seized our little miracle as I silently wept. Our baby who should have died in labour, who didn't breathe for a full 2 minutes after birth but survived unscathed. Our cheeky fighter who was about to have the best second birthday party a child could wish for. The Agency woman took her from my arms and I didn’t even fight. How could I fight an organisation that controlled everything?


“No.” Elijah said. Tears ran down his face as the awful reality finally hit him. “You will not take our daughter. I don’t care who you are.”


He grabbed Sophia, shoved her into my arms as she screamed, then grabbed a breakfast bar stool and swung it so quickly around the agent's head that I barely saw it happen. I saw when he hit her on the ground second time, and hoped I'd covered Sophia's eyes before she saw. Her screams suggested otherwise.


“Eli! What have you done?" I shouted, even louder than our daughters wails. "They’re gonna kill us all now.”


He stepped over her limp body and checked for a pulse. “She’s fine. Grab the go-bag. We leave now.”


*


Fifteen years to the day and I’ll never forget that moment. Now we move every other week. Buy everything with altcoins. Sophia is sick of it but she’s seen enough close calls not to argue. Life in the shadows is tough, but we’re together.


Some days I wonder if running was fair on Sophia. Compliance could have meant we’d be reunited after the study. We’d have been free to be a normal family... If Sophia survived.


When I question whether we made the right decision, Elijah always says the same thing, like he’s rehearsed it: “We don’t have the unknown; all we have is now. All we have is survival.”


Sophia will be 18 in a few weeks: the age I promised I’d explain everything. But how could I explain what I knew and how I knew it? How could I admit I knew the horrors she'd avoided because I'd been the hand of The Algorithm for almost a decade? I try to write her a letter to order my thoughts.


I hope you can forgive me. Delete.


Sophia, I wouldn’t have done it; if only I’d known… Delete.


My darling, I never should have joined The Agency.

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©2023 by Rachael Twumasi-Corson.

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