'Now When I Say "In There," You Know What I Mean, Right?'

Confirmed: it's Barbie. We've confirmed it.

Yes sir.

We've reviewed the tape from the visitors' day. There's no question: that's Dale Barbara in there.

Roger that. He's the one we've been looking for.

Now when I say "in there," you know what I mean, right?

In an enormous dome that fully surrounds the town of Chester's Mill, right?

Oh, you knew about that?

Yes sir, I surely did.

Okay, cool -- I just thought I should probably check, because this enormous-dome situation hasn't been on the news very much since it came down, what, two weeks ago?

Yeah, that sounds right -- couple of weeks.

Right. I just didn't want to assume you knew about it, since, haha, you know, the whole rest of the country doesn't!

Haha, well, the unspecified branch of the military that you and I both belong to isn't exactly "the whole rest of the country," right?

Haha, no, I suppose it isn't.

About that, though.

What's up?

Well, if you'll just indulge me for a second while we go back over a situation that you and I are obviously quite familiar with--

Why not.

So one day, totally out of nowhere, this absolutely gigantic dome descends onto this town.

That's right.

It's like some kind of outer-space hard contact lens just falls from the sky, seals in the whole town like a Starbucks lid.

Well, like a rounded Starbucks lid -- like for a Frappuccino with whipped cream on it.

Sure.

Go on.

That first day, people on either side of it can see each other -- people on the outside trying to get in, people on the inside trying to get out.

Yes, of course.

But now, from what I understand, people on the inside have just resigned themselves to their fate?

Meaning what?

Well, they're not trying to dig their way out, they're not trying to break through it, they're not even that concerned about the fact that they're trapped and cut off from the world.

That's right. From what I hear, they're still driving around and going to the diner that hasn't had coffee in days, out of habit -- even one lady who works at the little hospital is still showing up even though she doesn't have any drugs or medical appliances left.

And meanwhile, you know, you'd expect that if you lived in a neighboring town or even as much as a couple of counties over, you'd organize some kind of vigil where you and your friends took it in shifts to surround the dome and look in at the people and just make sure they knew that, like, the world knows about the dome and the people inside it haven't just been written off completely?

Sure, but what's the point if the people inside the dome aren't even constantly standing at the edge of the dome waiting for it to disappear or actively trying to break it open or even just desperately trying to communicate with the outside world?

Okay, yes: why aren't they doing that, do you think?

You have to understand: this is a very small town.

...Right.

Well, these are simple people, you know? How much do you think small-town people have contact with the larger world?

Until this happened, I would have thought...a lot?

Like what?

You know: consumer goods coming in and going out. Watching or listening to or reading mass media that's produced outside the town in major centers. Commuting to work outside the town. Talking or texting with people who live in other cities.

Nah.

"Nah"?

Those all sound like things sophisticated people do.

Isn't at least one of them a journalist? At least a couple of others have to have gone to college? Travelled anywhere in their lives?

Look, if this happened to Cedar Rapids or Bakersfield -- sure, people would be responding to the disruption of their lives, the isolation from the outside, the new and unpredictable weather patterns, the rapid depletion of resources, the existence of an enormous dome, basically, in recognizably human ways, like you're describing.

But sir, I mean...they're not Amish!

They might as well be, it seems like.

I just find it hard to believe that, at this very late date in human advancement, with the world more interconnected than it's ever been, a huge dome could encase a town and not just its residents but everyone for miles around it would just accept it instead of there being non-stop riots on both sides of it.

And yet, you have the evidence. The people of Chester's Mill might occasionally shoot each other or participate in the enterprises of organized crime that have suddenly sprung up. But rioting? That would require more than three or four people to assemble in the same place at the same time. Everyone's just enjoying doing jigsaw puzzles and catching up on their reading at home.

Is the dome maybe releasing a constant supply of airborne Valium that's keeping everyone so docile?

What am I, a domeologist?

I guess not.

Oh-- oh shit.

What?

Has this light been on the whole time?

I don't know, maybe.

We've been broadcasting all of this. How do I turn it off?

Why bother?

Haha, I guess you're right! It's not like anyone's covering this story, and even if they were, what are they going to do, camp out beside the edge of the dome and hope Barbie comes wandering by? When's the last time he got anywhere near the dome?

And no one inside can hear us anyway.

Yeah, unless the dome gets angry at someone and kicks up a dome-nado, and what are the odds of that?

Well, thanks for this talk. I still don't really understand what's happening, but I guess it doesn't matter.

Trust me: nothing about this story matters.