Title from the song "At Harbor" by Great States.

Idea from...undetermined.


Bed unmade, room slightly cluttered, no signs of a fight. Front door open and unlocked, but bike in the shed. No belongings missing. No note. Not a person to speak of who would think to kidnap a well-known and beloved child from a secluded beach house, good relationships with his one living relative and guardians, no suspicious activity reported by any of his peers. Nothing from local hospitals, businesses, or shelters. Only one report of anything out of the ordinary, but that one was most likely a coincidence.

The data was nearly conclusive — thirteen-year-old Steven Quartz Universe had vanished into thin air.

Officer Esther Ben-David set the crisp new file on her desk, folded her hands, and looked up at the four bewildered people who had taken up residence in the police station for nearly the entire day. The boy's father, a sunburnt car wash owner whose years hadn't treated him well. The guardians, a black woman with mirrored sunglasses from the fire department (Officer Ben-David knew her) and a skinny, redhaired white woman wringing her hands. The older sister, a chubby seventeen-year-old with wildly dyed hair. Only the girl, hunched in a separate chair by the door, failed in meeting the officer's eyes.

"I'm sorry," said Officer Ben-David sincerely. The next words, cold and professional, felt awkward in her mouth. "Until we can conduct further investigations, we have nothing more to tell you. But I promise that we are doing all we can and will contact you immediately if anything is found."

The father — born Greg Bailey according to the file, legally changed name to Greg Universe in the 80's — flinched as if she had raised her hand. Of the four, he seemed to be the most aware of the situation's severity. Though the two guardians seemed shaken, they were more in shock than anything, as if they wanted to think that they were in a dream and everything was really okay; still in that denial stage. Mr. Universe glanced at them before speaking.

"Anything?" he repeated, childlike. Officer Ben-David nodded.

"Yes. Now, you folks had best be getting home. It's late, and if your child is out there of his own will, he might come back at this time."

She said it with as much hope as possible to fit in such a bleak sentence, but still, none of them seemed to believe. The three adults did that adult thing where they agreed automatically and got their things together to leave, sounding cheerful enough and still significantly depressed. The teenage girl was more transparent. She got up, but as her companions filed out of the room, she turned back to Officer Ben-David. Probably mad about the dream still.

"I know what I saw," the girl protested. "I wanna think it's a dream, but what if it wasn't? It felt real ."

Yup, still mad about the dream. Officer Ben-David sighed and leaned forward on her desk. "Look, darlin', I know you're worried about your brother, but I don't know if your account has any weight with our detectives. I've told you this."

"You think I'm crazy."

"Well...I think you might just be jumping to conclusions, that's all. Perhaps it was some sort of subconscious suggestion, as in, your brain picked up on something and turned it into a dream. Either way, I and my coworkers have decided that it'd probably be best to investigate the hard evidence first. I really am sorry," she added when the girl turned her head. A sulky pause passed between them.

"Okay. Thanks," the girl said at last. Then she followed the adults.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Officer Ben-David's eyes shot to the clock — fifteen past eight, long past her time to split. Moving almost robotically, she began to pack up her things, her mind darting between her cold coffee and the ache in her right arm and all the things that she normally dwelt on after a long day on duty. And tonight, one new thing joined them, one name: Steven Quartz Universe.

Distracted, she dropped her keys and from habit picked it up by the keychain. It was a cheap trinket from some gas station in Toledo, a joking gift from Eli during their move to the East Coast. The years had taken their toll on the thing. Still, the little plastic UFO endured on her key ring, and as worn as it was, she could still make out the outline of green alien in the cockpit.

"Cute," she murmured to herself, and began to wonder what Eli had made for dinner.