—Heinrich Heine
Incomprehensible
I helped Angelina move out of her hotel suite into my condo.
I had a spare bedroom I had intended to use as an office but never did. I preferred the kitchen table. The room had an en suite bathroom, so it was perfect for her.
Paul’s protective detail oversaw the operation which took only about an hour because Angelina had just packed necessities. She figured she could purchase whatever personal care and clothing items she needed during her four month tenure at U of T.
Somehow though, I didn’t foresee her returning to the States, especially if she chose to share her findings with the Canadian government—whether or not they’d eventually share the results with the Americans was a moot question—there was still resentment from the Avro Arrow cancellation and the loss of space scientists to NASA.
It didn’t matter to me because I knew choosing Paul and CSIS made more sense than surrendering the project to the USA and never seeing or hearing of it again.
But what was really weird was how comfortable we both felt about the shared accommodation situation, but we had instantly bonded and it seemed so natural.
It also made sense from a security perspective. It was far easier for both of us to be together and supervised, and once Angelina surrendered the craft to the government, we’d be of no further use to a foreign enemy.
I was looking forward to that time when we could just concentrate on being a couple and not under constant surveillance by Russian operatives trying to infiltrate Angelina’s craft retrieval program.
We were sitting in my front room taking a well-deserved coffee break when her cell rang. I could see by the excitement on her face it was good news.
“That was Paul,” she smiled, “they used drones and Lidar to locate the craft and he wants to drive us up to northern Ontario so we can be there when the craft is unearthed.”
“Unearthed? I didn’t realize it was buried,” I sputtered.
“It’s a three-hour trip and we’ll be back tonight, but we have to leave right away. There’s a van waiting in the drive. Are you up to this?”
“Are you kidding?” I yelped, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
When Paul said there was a ‘van’ waiting, it was a definite understatement. It more closely resembled a compact luxury motor home with all the amenities one could possibly desire.
Within minutes we were on the road, a small caravan with our security teams in two cars in front and behind.
There was relaxing piped-in music, a TV, a well-stocked fridge and electrical outlets to accommodate our electronics. It was basically a travelling living room only with ever-changing views of countryside passing outside the windows.
The trip took just under three hours and we parked down a seldom-used road, which had been closed to local traffic.
When we stepped out of the vehicle, we were met by an armed forces officer who led us back into the bush and then up a very steep hill to a rocky ridge.
Whatever picture my mind conjured in anticipation paled in comparison to the scene before me.
A partially excavated craft stood before us, protruding out of the base of what appeared to be an ancient cliff.
Angelina grasped my arm tightly, It’s incredible! she whisperered, awestruck by the other-worldly object wedged into sedimentary rock.
“There is no way this was a recent event,” I said, overwhelmed by the paradox of a technologically sophisticated machine mired in a primeval context.
The army officer overheard my comment and said tersely, “The archeologists estimate this event occurred forty thousand years ago.”
“How is that even possible?” I asked.
He simply arched an eyebrow and stared straight ahead.
Obviously, there were going to be no easy answers. We all stared mutely at an eerily incomprehensible scene completely foreign to our minds and contrary to everything we had imagined.
We were beholding something bizarre, strange and so intrinsically inhuman that it overwhelmed and sickened us to contemplate it.