It’s just another day, just an ordinary Wednesday. The usual anchors on the usual morning news say the usual jokes as Peter gets himself off to work. He ignores the news guys as he usually does. They are usually just so silly, anyway. He kisses his wife Wendy before he leaves for work. She returns the kiss in a brief way, she’s busy with her presentation that she gives her company every week as head fashion buyer. Peter is proud to call this ambitious, intelligent and beautiful woman his wife of nineteen years.

Peter’s sixteen year old son Nick and thirteen year old daughter Dakota stumble around in a daze, lost in an adolescent world of text on their respective cell phones. Peter calls good-bye to them as he walks out the door. They grunt something back in farewell, as though they regard Peter as a blip of an interruption in their world. He knows the drill with them, the kind of thing where adults like him are just an annoyance. It’s nothing personal, kids are kids, and he shrugs and chuckles as he leaves his home for the day.

The usual commuters drive in their vehicles, the usual barista Merissa is on staff at the coffee shop. She nods to Peter, and he has his regular grande latte as he says hello to the other regulars who frequent the place. There’s Joe the math teacher, Michael the tech guru, John the prosecutor, and Sally the contractor. It’s nice to meet such a diverse crowd and have them say hello to him as well. Community has always been important to Peter, and it’s good to know your neighbors. Sally calls over to him before he leaves, asking him if he will bring the coffee this week to church. They both go to the same church, and every fourth Sunday, they have a pancake breakfast. Everyone Peter knows there chips in, and Peter is happy to do his part. He tells Sally sure, and pats her on the back admonishing not to intimidate too many guys with her toolbelt. They both laugh, and Peter makes his way to work.

It’s a nice day with temperatures in the sixties, and Peter is really glad for that. He lives only two miles from his job. They want him to live close by in case of emergencies, which happens fairly often in his line of work. It’s good to have a purpose, and Peter is glad he has his. Seeing that he has such a short commute, Peter always prefers to walk unless the weather makes it impossible. He loves seeing the community close-up, all the people, and breathing the fresh air. It reminds him how good it is to be alive. So does his work, but in a different way.

Security is tight where he works. There are a lot of threats made against his colleagues and him here, because some people suspect that they do bad things there. People can be so foolish in their perceptions, Peter thinks. They don’t realize the whole story behind things, and assume the worst. On some level, Peter has gotten used to the idea of people hating him without knowing him, but it’s never really something he’s fully comfortable with. If people hate you without knowing you, there is no way to defend yourself. To him, it is a reminder of how quickly things can change, how a friend can become an enemy in an instant. You just never know when something that seems as ordinary as passing by a person could become violent. It hasn’t happened to him yet. But it’s something others he knows have seen and done. The thread of security between civilization and savagery is terribly fragile. He doesn’t take the good life he lives for granted because of it. You need to count your blessings in this world.

Today, there is no troublemaker outside harassing him or any employees with their nonsense complaints, and Peter is glad for it. He was in too good a mood to deal with others’ negative attitudes. It was always silly what people complain about, anyway. Peter never understood why people were so concerned about what went on in this place or what he did with his life. The work that goes on here was important. It made sure the world outside was safe. Some people just didn’t understand, and let themselves get confused by propaganda and think people like Peter were the bad guys. Well, that was what he was doing this work for, he thought as he passed through the gates without any incident. He made sure that people who wanted to declare him the bad guy were free to do so, without incident. Freedom made Peter’s country a great one. It was his service to his community to make sure that everyone had their inherent rights protected, no matter what.

Peter goes through three metal doors before he gets to his office. He has to be buzzed through each door in order to get there. Linda is at the first gate today, she’s a pretty little girl with soft red curls. But don’t let her sweet looks fool you. She’s a retired police officer, and she is known for taking down a couple of bad guys in a bank robbery. She’s a girl you can count on, and in a place like this, you need people like her. Peter smiles at her, and she smiles back. She buzzes him in.

The second door is manned by someone named Kurt, a retired Navy man that has just begun the job here. For that reason, Peter doesn’t know him that well, but he hopes to get to know him better in the future. Peter trusts this former military man implicitly. Kurt’s erect bearing, his steady gaze, and the precise way he speaks is exactly what will instill trust in an insecure public. This is a good thing, because Peter wants the public he serves to feel secure, and any good man or woman to instill that trust in them is a good person to have on his side. Kurt is definitely one of those men. They wave at each other before Peter goes to the next door to be buzzed in.

The last door is manned by Nathan, an African-American whose resume is so wide and varied, Peter just could not compete with it. Nathan has worked here longer than Peter’s eight years, and seems no older than forty years of age, but the stories Nathan has told him over the years shows how much this man has lived. He has fought guerrillas in the jungle, he has taken down drug lords in foreign lands, he has nabbed human traffickers who were ready to victimize innocent girls. A regular action hero, and good looking to boot. Nathan doesn’t talk about his private life much, but Peter is sure that the man has no trouble landing any girl he wants with his charm, hero persona and good looks. He’s a good man and a good friend. They wave at each other before Peter goes to his office.

After the bluster of the morning, it was time for Peter to get down to work. Peter was inherently proud of his job, so he was always excited to get busy with the task at hand. Everything Peter needed to work with was on a computer. It was generally safer that way, despite those pesky hackers, and easier to keep track of, to boot. Most of the customers liked the clandestine nature of their product on the computer anyway. This is something Peter told the higher-ups along the way, and because Peter was a trustworthy employee, they took this into consideration. Now, it was just standard protocol. The computer whirred awake as Peter brought it magically alive with one stroke. The programs loaded, and just like any other day, Peter was now in business.

The file loads up all the information he needs on the particular product he has been working on for the last few weeks. This job has been a bit of a pickle, one of the tougher ones Peter has been working on. Normally, when a customer sends him a job, he can get it done in a day or two. But this one, well, it’s been a challenge. But challenges are always good to help build your character. They even had a Sunday school lesson on that, just a couple of weeks ago.

Today’s work is regarding Subject 187936482. This number gets awfully cumbersome to repeat, so Peter and his colleagues have decided to call Subject 187936482 the code name Project Snake Runner. The info on Project Snake Runner was vague, as sometimes these things go. The subject was apparently a native born citizen, male, maybe Caucasian, or perhaps Latino or Arab or light skinned black, who Peter referred as Mr. Snake Runner. Apparently, Mr. Snake Runner was not acting in the most civilized of ways. The customer that sent him this info said Mr. Snake Runner was some arms dealer that they seized at the border. Reliable sources and witnesses to the scene had told the customer that Mr. Snake Runner had sawed off shotguns, and unregistered weapons such as grenades, and bags and bags of fertilizer in his vehicle when he was apprehended. Peter couldn’t believe the silliness of some people. Why would anyone drive around with stuff like that? Didn’t they know they were going to get caught one day? Peter was glad for the officials who nabbed ridiculous people such as this.

What the customer was looking for was how to crack this Snake Runner fellow. They wanted to know who he was the liaison for, who he was running for. They really were not sure who he procured his paraphernalia from, and to whom he was bringing it to. So the theory was to offer the Snake Runner a deal to go higher up in the food chain, except Mr. Snake Runner, stubborn mule that he appeared to be, wasn’t having any part of it.

Well, this obviously caused a problem for everyone who wanted to get this silly matter over with and move on with their lives. Mr. Snake Runner was wasting everyone’s time, and life was just too short to waste on scum like him. There were times when the graciousness of the law could only go so far with trash who knew how to skirt the system in every way possible. Sometimes, you had to just do what it took to get the job done. It was something Peter told the kids every day, not they heard him with their wired up wirelessness. But it was something he earnestly believed, and something he lived by. There were just some times when the obstacles in your way forced you to take unorthodox measures to accomplish your goal. Not that this was something Peter was thrilled to do. But there had been a rash of crime involving arms dealing lately near the area, and Peter would be irresponsible if he didn’t do what he could to make sure that the people he knew and loved were kept safe.

With that deciding factor, Peter gave the needed recommendation given the circumstances. With a double master’s degree in biology and psychology, Peter had been entrusted by the federal authorities to make assessments regarding interrogation procedures. Mr. Snake Runner had not been touched physically yet. A sweetheart deal had not softened him. He was one of those hard cases, Peter deduced in his report back to the customer. Peter also said, cases like Snake Runner would not easily break, which meant using the other interrogation technique. The customers knew that this meant acting outside of the law. Luckily, there was no mess for anyone to clean up because of Peter’s report, and those human rights people with their torture allegations would have no evidence to back up their foolish claims. Peter could put this case aside and move onto something else, go home at the end of the day and not worry about the silly protestors outside. Which reminded him, as he wrote his recommendation, this evening was Dakota’s ball game, just like every Wednesday evening. She was a really talented player. Peter beamed. He was glad to protect his wonderful family so they could live their dreams.

Peter finished the report, and transferred it to e-mail. He clicked send and receive, and the transmission was complete. He looked at the clock. Ten o’clock, time for his usual mid-morning coffee break. Peter saved the report, and closed his word processing program. Another job well done, he sighed with satisfaction. He closed the lid of his laptop and left his office. Peter wondered if there would be bagels today. There were usually brought in by one of the other analysts on Wednesdays. But you just never knew how these things went.