"We're early."
"No, mom," Tom said crisply. He opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
"Want us to go in, son?"
"No thanks, Dad."
"But we want to, Tom," his mother said. "Of course, we'll go in!"
"There's no need for you to. I'm already registered," he told her. He reached out to grip his father's hand.
"Tom!" his mother protested.
"Don't worry about me." He kissed her hurriedly, and was relieved when his father drove away without waiting for him to start up the steps. He knew that they would worry, and he turned abruptly, forcing his attention away.
The day was bright and a chill breeze swept in from the Pacific. Atop a distant hill eucalyptus glimmered in the white sunlight. Inscribed over the portal of the modest building which he now faced were the words:
DEPARTMENT OF PEACE
"THAT THE AGE OF
VIOLENCE MAY FOREVER
REMAIN HISTORY"