First Contact is a multidimensional narrative connecting centuries, continents and sub/cultures, unravelling coincidences and conspiracies, computer viruses, and viruses which infect your mind. It details a kaleidoscope of revolutions and counter re...
THE THREE BIPEDIAL BEINGS VANISHED INEXPLICABLY, AS IF INTO THIN AIR; DAVID HAD ENOUGH TIME TO REGISTER THEIR ECTOMORPHIC PHYSIQUES, BULBOUS HEADS AND ELONGATED LIMBS, BUT LITTLE ELSE. The Red Hand Gang entered the aperture single file, into an airlock of some kind where they were blasted with blistering light, then sanitized with smothering smoke. The exterior door hissed fast behind them, locking them in tight embrace. None of the boys could manage to speak, such was their fear. Five minutes passed, although it seemed to stretch for much longer.
Then the interior wall gave way, in fact it seemed to dissolve, and the boys practically fell into a vast circular chamber that comprised the core of the UFO. They appeared to be all alone in this vehicle, which was rather a sleek affair with smooth black marble floors interspersed by rings of radiant white. As tantalizing as it was, the boys soon turned their attention to the portholes which perforated the hull. The scrub was in sight from some of them, and beyond the edge of the clearing, their abandoned bicycles could be seen glinting in the glare of the nocturnal sun.
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A great roar presently rumbled from the bottom of the craft, and David understood with a racing heart that they were blasting off. They climbed gradually at first, barely noticeable, but then quicker, with more confidence. The clearing dropped away rapidly, the steel of the BMXs glistening through the swaying branches. Interestingly, the passengers of the vessel felt no g-forces as the UFO accelerated, no compression nor strain. Reaching the lower troposphere, it swiveled around roughly, but without hurling the boys across the deck. They could walk freely, but they were drawn to one of the portholes, speechless. Richard pointed at the spidery threads of the streetlamps beneath, and David knew they were looking at Trundle in its totality receding into oblivion. It gave him an oddly godlike sensation.
Goodbye, Mum and Dad, he thought glumly. Goodbye, Earth.
The vessel continued rising and increased its momentum. The countryside sped by, faster and faster, although it was too dark to make out much detail. Between Trundle and Parkes, a speeding car came into view. It stopped moving as they flew overhead, and David could imagine its driver scrambling out on the road to gape with astonishment at the UFO. A few minutes later, he saw a freight train tearing across the landscape.
Faster and higher they went, the lights of towns and small cities whizing by at a terrific pace. A mountain range loomed up from the darkness before disappearing to the west. Then, dazzlingly bright, there came a platter of light which could only have been Sydney, the lagrest city in Australia. Beyond that, a few ships floated offshore, hugging the continental shelf... and then there was nothing but inky seas.
Several minutes later, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, the sun - the real sun of course, not this nocturnal pretender - lunged over the horizon and hailed them with a tropical urgency. It climbed into the sky at a perceptible pace, making David feel as if he was watching a movie sped up many times. Their velocity had to be astronomical! Once again, the perspective gave him a godlike feeling, as if he was privy to sacred knowledge, trespassing in the halls of Heaven. He momentarily covered his eyes, ashamed. Everything was going so fast.
