Three researchers walk into a chapel. It sounds like a joke, but the punchline is a genocide.

Fifty years ago, the UN erased an island, erased the people on it, and then attempted the far more difficult task of erasing the fact that they had erased it. But history has a nasty habit of keeping receipts. We found a soldier's journal, and it led us here: an archive facility hidden beneath an altar. Because nothing says “we are definitely not concealing a crime against humanity” quite like burying the evidence under a church.

One of marriage's greatest joys is discovering new and alarming things about your spouse, and my wife rarely disappoints. Today's revelation is that she can disappear into a dark pit full of buried atrocity with such casual confidence that for a concerning moment I briefly wondered if I was overreacting.

I've never been more in love. Whatever she finds down there is going to change everything.