The Empty Slot

Happiness in the household of the Petes came sooner than expected. The whole family is gathered around the baby. A sigh of relief escapes the parents. They had endured grueling months to bring him into the world. As soon as the baby is in the picture, everything else fades. His smile. Mr. Pete says, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t need anything anymore.”

The mother hugs him softly. Mr. Pete, burdened with expenses, has spent the day worrying about the bills yet to come. Every reason to falter has disappeared. There is no question about where his priorities lie. Rest awaits them.

To be discharged, an identity must be assigned. Every individual must have a reference number and an identity slot. Everyone moves in a rush; the climax of their efforts has been reached.

There is a problem with the identity slot.

The nurse tries multiple times. An error persists.
“There is no registry, but the reference number is being allotted,” the doctor says.
“There must be a malfunction,” the nurse replies, throttling the machine.
“It is very odd,” the doctor adds.

The parents ask, “What does that mean?”
The doctor scratches his head. “We don’t know.”
The parents are confused, having their first baby. They are tired and just want it to get over with.

Despite the problem, the family persists to leave. The reference number for which the baby should receive a name and identity has already been claimed. They are allowed to leave.

At home, the house is unchanged. They get into bed. Oddly, the baby does not cry and falls asleep. Exhaustion drags them under. The house falls to rest. The window stays open despite the cold weather; a breeze passes. Mrs. Pete opens her eyes. Past midnight. Her husband sleeps beside her. Medication drags her down. She hears a soft cry. She doesn’t realize immediately, and then the immersion breaks.

She jolts Mr. Pete.
“Wake up… wake up.”
“What?” he whispers, disquieted.
“The baby is not here,” she says, petrified.

He rises immediately. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” she sobs.

They search the house in darkness. The crib is exactly where it should be. Empty. No signs of struggle. No sound except the settling wood. Mr. Pete calls the baby’s name once. The name feels borrowed, hollow. They call their family. They call the neighbours. Doubts come to mind. Thoughts arise about whether they even took the baby with them. There is guilt over how they could sleep so carelessly.

They call the police. In the morning, officers arrive. No one imagined their night would end this way. Blame hangs in the air. Questions are asked. The parents describe the whole day. The missing case cannot be filed. The system offers nothing. The police do not know what to do.

Forms, photographs, everything yields no answers. It is as if there was no baby. No reports can be filed. No registry exists. The crib, the toys, the room itself, everything remains, waiting for a presence that never existed. They are being denied presence.

The realization that this absence could be permanent hits them. They visit the hospital and show the reference number. The clerks stare blankly. The files are empty. “There is nothing,” the clerks reply. The system that assigned the number cannot confirm it. A world refuses to acknowledge them.

Mrs. Pete says, “It was my boy. I remember him. He was in my hands.”

Neighbours and friends come to visit. The parents have nothing to show. They can only describe the baby. Neither do they have any valid reasons for the disappearance. Neighbours are hesitant, but do not speak their minds. Everyone seems to forget. Conversations about the missing child stall. Mr. Pete says to his wife, “Everyone thinks we have gone mad.”

Even though his presence begins to fade, the breeze is present at nights. They cannot sleep with the windows closed. A peace of mind can be achieved. Life can become like it was before.

Mr. Pete says, “I don’t remember him at all.”
Mrs. Pete says, “No… no… don’t do this to me.”

They are forgetting him day by day. They have to forget.

They stay awake at nights. The hope. The face that gave them comfort cannot be revisited.

A disappearance requires a presence first.

Ai generated image.