Tuesday, March 23, 2010

travelling along the desert vista away from the interference mankind transmits we come to see the horizon, stretched out before us, the sun burns in the sky, causality, shadows elongated and elastic pulled out like rubber bands, we dance and play, child minds entertained in natures gift, these moments are far and few between but we are grateful when they come. you pour your bottled water over me as i twist and turn and spin, my arms flaying about, my head thrown back, laughing.
you steady me and i fall into your arms, to a kiss.
in the desert things like this happen all the time.
we walk back to the car, it's an old beaten up pick up but we call it, 'trident' because it has a sticker of king neptune on the windshield. it's white but stained red with the desert.
you drive, i sit back and look at the sky, not a cloud, not a single one. you slide in a tape, it's the rolling stones, 'emotional rescue' we start to sing the 'ohhhh ohhhs' and laugh a bit more.
sunset and the nearest town is an hour away, we decide to stay in the motel nearest the bar. a quick shower, change of clothes, we head off for dinner and a few beers. we share a spliff on the way in.
the restaurant area of the bar is empty save for two bored waitresses and a cook who looks like he just got outta jail, 'order carefully' i say, 'i aint sending it back.'
the fan above rattles and the jukebox plays some strange country and western songs fom the 50's. the waitress looks very disappointed we strolled in to mess with her evening. we order the salads and some beers, i don't trust anything that comes outta the kitchen cooked. the salads arrive but they look like they been dead a long time. we drink a few beers to disguise the taste.
i leave a $20 bill on the table, we say bye and head into the bar.
here people swarm, dressed in jeans and t- shirts, the friendly crowd all smile at us. i notice the men carry guns and i notice the women do to, in fact they all do.
we grab a few beers. the bar man attempts some chit chat.
'you folks passing through?'
'yeah we just stopping the night, we will be on the way at sunrise.'
'where you folks heading?'
'santa fe'
'ah yeah, well highway 66 will take you all the way.'
'yeah great, thanks.' i feel like adding something about kicks but think better of it. you just don't know with these small town people, so i ask, 'what's the name of this town anyway?'
'why sir this town is roswell.'
'oh the rosewell,' you say all curious.
'yes the roswell.'
'you ever seen any aliens.' you add.
'yeah they pass through here all the time.'
we grab the beers and return to our table.

'fucking hell man, this is roswell, we should go check it out.'
'check out what, the alien space ships?'
'area 51.' you say
'what the fuck is area 51?'
'it's where the military kept the aliens they found.'
i laugh, 'get real, where did you hear that?'
'every one knows it, where have you been hiding.'
'there are no aliens, just us city folk, you heard the man.'
'come on,' you tease, 'don't be a spoil sport, we have loads of time.'

you have the map spread out across your lap, fingers dance across the page, 'just follow this dirt track and turn left when you get to the fence.'
'we can't get through a fence, especially if it's an army base.'
'we will just have a look, you just don't know.'
'mmm i liked it when you were being romantic babe.'
'come on, it's an adventure.'

we follow the fence for a few k's, then we see the hangers in the distance, massive silver installations, about five in a row, sunlight glinting off their roofs, almost blinding to look at. you see the rip in the fence, it's tiny but it's large enough for us to squeeze through. your out of the car before i can even begin to reason with you, in fact as your crawling through the fence i reason that there is no point in reasoning with you. you are having an adventure. i follow.
we walk up to the hangers, side by side, our boots stomping in the sand, our hands almost touching, our faces squinting from the glare. the doors are locked up. you push one but it won't give. i'm kind of glad. somewhere deep inside my guts i have a bad feeling. we shouldn't be there. the place is empty, must be empty for a reason i think.
we wander around the perimeter until we see a window. it's a little high for us to look into so i kneel down and you clamber onto my back. i hear you wiping the dust of the glass. a sharp intake of breath, ''it's empty but it's huge. i mean it's fucking just huge.'
i hope you are going to jump down but you don't, you stay upon my back, i can hear your breathing, feel your weight, some beads of sweat roll down onto my neck mixing with my own, i can feel your anxiety.
'babe, what is it?'
'there's some kind of object there, moving around, it doesn't move like a person though, it moves differently, like a machine.'
'okay get down now.'
you do, and we swap places.
the machine is human in shape but it is a machine, silver surface, large eyes, or at least orbs where the eyes should be, it is difficult to make out any other details except that it is moving erratically and looks somewhat damaged.
'what is it?' you ask.
i shrug, 'could be anything, this is military right?'
'was, now it's just an abandoned warehouse.'
we wander along the edge of the building looking for an opening. there is another doorway but it is locked. i fiddle with the padlock, 'you know this can be easily cut with metal cutters or some kinda big secateurs, it's not exactly fort knox.'
'let me see.'
a few moments later and with a hair clip you have opened the padlock. i wish you hadn't done that but there's no going back, we walk inside.
the air tasted stale, as if it had been locked up for a few years, it whooshed past us escaping. across the hanger was the metallic object, it was some sort of robot. it's head was comprised of a huge orb with two large orb eyes like an insect, it had a body that was almost humanoid but not quite, it looked as if some sort of circuitry was encased in a transparent silver shield all around it's torso and it's limbs were like telescopic octopus tentacles but robotic and the same silver. it seemed distressed and had not noticed us yet. on the floor is a few scraps of paper and folders, i grab one and read the letterhead
'area 57. what the hell is that?'
'maybe it's another type of alien hanger.'
'every one knows area 51 but i never heard of area 57.'
'what else do these papers say.'
we gather up as many as we can, the floor is strewn with papers and files but a lot of them are meaningless, mumbo jumbo, military talk. we piece together an idea.
while area 51 dealt with aliens area 57 deals with robots and androids that have been captured from the aliens and kept separate. there are four hangers and four different types of robot. this one seemed to have survived a wreckage that was found in the arctic, it was shipped over in 1955 and had been studied by a multi international team of scientists and engineers. there was a letter from the vice president and one from a general. there was a list of russian scientists and what looked like norwegian names.
we looked at the strange robotic creature that wandered around, it looked so clumsy and lost, a little pathetic.

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