By Bryan Daunter

It had been a hard day for Bruce and Wayne taking tourists on four-wheel drive desert trips. It was their own business, and they were considered locals after five years, despite the fact that they were from Melbourne. It was late evening, and they were having a cold beer on the veranda of their Queensland style wooden house, itself perched on eight-foot stumps — when a bright light appeared on the night sky horizon.

Wayne looked lazily up at the bright light, saying, “Forget it mate, yeah won’t find three wise men and a virgin in this town.” 

Bruce, relaxed in a hammock, smiled at Wayne who was gently hammock swinging and said, “Could be the second coming.” He clutched his can of beer, and called out, “It’s getting bigger,”...  “No, the fucking light.”

The light disappeared behind the distant sandhills. Wayne noted the estimated position, saying, “We’ll go over there ta-morra.”    

***

That morning, they packed both four-wheel drive trucks with supplies for three days and emergency rations and safety gear. They planned to keep in contact with each other by two-way radio. Wayne drove to the northern estimated area where the light had disappeared, and Bruce drove to the southern area. 

Two hours later, they arrived at their designated area. Wayne was on top of a large sand dune using binoculars to scan the area between him and Bruce — then he saw it, in a gully, a groove in the sandstone rock. He picked up the microphone and held the transmit button down, “N, one to S one, come in.” 

“S one here, what’s up Wayne?”

“UFO” 

“Why call me? You fuck off.”

“No, the light, unidentified flying object. But yah back to front.”  

“Who’s a cunt?”  

“No, our estimate is out. Your position is the northern tip. I’m too far in front.” 

“Yah, yah back ta front. Yah calculations.” 

“Bruce, just keep driving back about half a click. I’ll join yah.”  

Half an hour later they were driving into a shallow gully and stopped by a sixty-degree groove cut into the sandstone wall of the gully, ending by a black, approximately one by half-a-metre cylinder. “Must be very small green men,” remarked Bruce. 

“Whatever it is, it’s tough material to cut that groove.” 

“Give ‘em a bloody fair dinkum headache.”  

“Get nicked mate, could be worth some-at.” 

“Ain’t dropped orf the back of a truck.”

“Give-us ‘and ta get it in your truck,” Bruce insisted. To their surprise the cylinder could be carried by one person. Bruce followed Wayne at a discrete distance. 

As Wayne placed the cylinder in his truck, he turned to Bruce saying, “We’ll drop it off at whacky Sid’s. See what he can make of it, while we have a cold ‘un.” 

After a couple of cold uns, they went back to wacky Sid’s workshop hoping to be the discoverers of a fortune and wondering how much wacky Sid would do ‘em for.

They found Sid sitting at his workbench pulling on a fag. Wayne called out, “Hi Sid, pull any harder on that fag, yeh, you’ll have brown stains on yah under pants.”

Sid looked up as they approached and said,” Well, yeh, live an learn. Thought it was shite.” … “Sorry lads, can’t open it. Blunted me diamond tipped saws, cutting gasses won’t touch it. Even me ark torch and thermal lance did bugger all. Find out what that material is. Make a fortune. Then yah can pay me ten per-cent of what yah get.”

They gave a nod and handshake of agreement, picked up the cylinder, and headed home.

Wayne placed the black cylinder in the entertainment unit in the lounge.

Bruce came out of the kitchen, “Nice one Wayne,” he said. 

“Yah, looks pretty good.”

“No mate, not the black dick. The Sheila’s are comin’ over ta dinner, got nowt done.” 

“Take away.”

“Nah. Pull that un again, they’ll take us out permanently.” 

“Some steak in the freezer. Run it under the hot tap and slap it on the barbie.” 

Bruce and Wayne’s girlfriends, Jane and Nicki, arrived at 6:30 pm for dinner at 7:30 pm, and they relaxed in the lounge with pre-dinner drinks while Bruce and Wayne were on kitchen duty.

Bruce looked at Wayne’s culinary preparation and said, “Which part of steak, mash and onion gravy is fancy cookin’?”

Before Wayne could reply, a mechanical sounding voice interjected, “This unit was activated on impact and has learnt, from your communication network, your language. Please press the red button on the panel.” 

Bruce was first into the lounge shouting, “DON’T PRESS THE BUTTON!”

Wayne followed close on Bruce’s heels. 

Bruce pointed at the black cylinder. Wayne took a closer look. Part of the cylinder had reconfigured into a dial, a red button, and a speaker.

“What happened?” asked Wayne.

Jane and Nicki were staring at each other in stunned surprise. 

Nicki was the first to regain some sense of normality. “Thought you’d got a new battery operated CD player,” she said. “Thought you were going to charge it using that induction plate, so I put it on it. About a minute later, well, you heard it. What gives?” 

Wayne and Bruce explained how they had found the cylinder, Bruce leaving out the non-brave bits.

“Well,” said Jane, “It’s obviously not a UFO, but from a UFO. Let’s press the button and find out what it’s all about.” 

“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” replied Bruce. 

“Let’s vote on it,” said Nicki. 

Bruce lost. 

“Right here we go,” said Wayne, and pressed the red button.

Bruce dived behind the settee.

The mechanical sounding voice said, “Connecting now. Taking over your planetary communication network and AI systems…”

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