The Prometheus Effect (4 page)

Joshua began his project at the earliest possible moment in order to give him the best chance of collating enough information to at least appear interested in his designated task. One of Joshua's finest qualities was the ability to research and retain relevant facts and figures and before long he was delving deeply into both official archives and various forums and message-boards.

It was clear that there were a number of trends that were in place, a collective picture of what an 'alien' was. The origins of the belief that extra terrestrial life existed began centuries ago. Proliferating in the early part of the twentieth century and brought to the minds of the public by such events as H.G. Wells controversial radio broadcast, stories of UFOs dramatically increased during the 'space age'. The comic books and films of the 1950's onwards ignited the public’s imagination and although aliens came in many shapes and forms, ideas converged into a stereotypical image of what a typical extra terrestrial would look like. By the 1960's and 70's, a theme of alien abductions began to come to the fore, and later the speculations regarding the infamous Roswell incident in the U.S. cemented the image in many people's minds.

The typical alien example was a smooth skinned, grey, sexless humanoid figure with a vast, telepathic intellect. They were technologically advanced, their motives were seemingly unknown although many argued that it was global domination or resource gathering. The argument that this collective image of what we determined an alien to be was due to persistent media exposure was a strong one, however numerous sightings across the globe appeared to suggest that a common theme existed and transcended cultural and geographical borders.

Reading the varied and lively forums produced more than a few belly laughs from the eager journalist. Despite some high profile, credible individuals coming forward to state their case for an alien presence, the majority of individuals that were most vehement in their beliefs were the more intellectually challenged, marginalised section of society; the ones who perhaps took too much stock of what the tabloids printed; the ones whose imagination was limited to what they had witnessed on TV. This article was going to be an immense challenge; to filter out the tripe and leave the best cuts remaining would take many hours of patience and a dedication unseen in the average man on the street.

Joshua was keen to be on time for his ten o’clock appointment, an induction and tour of the 'Messengers' offices. Retaining a smart yet slightly more casual approach to his personal presentation, he skipped breakfast and sauntered outside to the busy street. The ubiquitous fine drizzle of London rain greeted him as he thanked the porter who graciously held the heavy glass door for him as he passed.

Hailing a cab, at first unsuccessfully, he suddenly realised that the hotel would have rang a local company for him, sometimes he had to do things the hard way. He persisted however, he was not one to admit defeat. Catching the eye of an alert cabby, the black vehicle pulled alongside and the window scrolled down.

“
Fleet Street.” Joshua called out, bringing a thumbs up from the driver. Climbing into the heavy carriage, Joshua noted how much better London taxi's had gotten since a previous visit.

“
Plush. This is a nice one.” He said to the driver as he fumbled with his seat belt.

“
Oh yes, just got this one in last month. She's a beauty.” The grey haired driver proudly responded as he stabbed the buttons of his console.

“
Are you one of those tabloid hacks then? Hold the front page an' all that?” The driver was keen to start a conversation. Joshua obliged. It was rude not to engage in a little banter, anyway, he was in a buoyant mood.

“
The Messenger. I'd like to think it's a class above the average tabloid.” Joshua replied, proud to be associated with his new employer.

“
Just starting my first day today, hence the ironed shirt. Give it a couple of weeks and I’ll turn up in jeans!”

The cabby laughed and looked around to see his passenger as the cab ground to a halt in the traffic.

“
Yup, you look smart, I’ll give you that. Not something I have to worry about though!”

Joshua noted that he was not wrong, is driver was indeed a scruffy article and his greying stubble accentuated his dishevelled appearance. The cab once again pulled off and a motorcycle courier shot up the inside suddenly causing the driver to brake suddenly.

“
Hells teeth, fuckin' bikes!” The driver yelled out of his window as the oblivious courier shot by.

“
So sorry squire, must wash my mouth out.” The driver shook his head as he berated himself. Joshua released his stiff grasp on the door handle and chuckled.

“
No worries, I thought you were quite restrained.”

“
You would think I would be used to it now, I’ve been doing this for nearly twenty years.”

Joshua raised his eyebrows. He could not imaging toiling over the same roads doing the same thing for such an expanse of time.

“
That's dedication. At least that's one good thing about my job, when I finish a story, I move on to the next thing.”

The driver peered into his rear view mirror and studied his passenger.

“
So what are you working on at the moment then? My mate got caught up in that armed robbery last week down Earls court, you probably heard about it, surprised no one's been on his case yet for an interview.”

Joshua nodded acknowledging the drivers story, it was a particularly savage crime.

“
No, I don't do crime very often. I'm more of an investigative journalist. I worked on the Hannzoil affair, you probably read about it.”

Joshua made sure to get out his party piece.

“
Nah, never heard of it. What was that about then?” The cabby quite clearly was not a broadsheet reader. Joshua did not feel a bloated explanation was pertinent.

“
Well to tell you the truth, the story I'm about to write is about aliens believe it or not.” Joshua gurgled an embarrassed laugh as he felt his driver may share in his ambivalence. The driver fell silent and did not reply. Joshua watched his eyes in the mirror, he could tell that he had hit a raw nerve. The journalist did not feel the need to press the cabby further, it was clear that the conversation had come to a natural close.

“
I suppose you think it's all crap then.” The driver suddenly piped up as Joshua checked his emails on his phone.

“
Well, I guess until I see some unequivocal proof I’ll be a sceptic. I can see how some might get sucked into the notion that they might exist however.” Joshua was not really taking notice of his drivers expressions as he bantered on. The cabby’s face was pale and drawn and intently attentive to his passenger's opinion.

“
So you're writing an article on aliens then? That will be interesting. What angle are you coming from?”

Joshua humoured the driver with a quick summary of his research so far, both significant dates and places and famous accounts.

“
As for what to do next I’ve no idea. Get some firsthand opinion I guess.” Said the journalist stuffing his phone deep into his pocket.

“
How will you do that? You know people who have been abducted by aliens don't like to talk about it in case everyone thinks they're nuts.” The driver seemed certain of this position although Joshua disagreed.

“
I don't know. I reckon if I had an experience like that, I’d want to tell everybody.”

“
Yeah, you're right I did, but then when everybody started to disown me and treat me like a mental case I shut up. Now I don't talk about it.”

Joshua leaned forward and poked his head through the Perspex opening into the drivers compartment.

“
Really? You've had...an experience?”

The cabby fell silent again and was suddenly agitated. Joshua felt he was a good judge of character and knew when someone was telling lies. He had a strong feeling that his driver was genuinely distressed at the conversation. A good starting point in his line of work.

“
What's your name my friend?” Joshua inquired as the can neared its destination.

“
Jimmy. Jimmy Stock. You know I really shouldn’t have said anything. I feel like a right plum.”

“
No, no. It is best to talk about these things. You know, if you did want to talk, I'm willing to listen. Totally impartial. It's my job not to offer opinion but to report the facts. I'd be very interested in hearing your story.”

Jimmy bit his lip and rocked his head from side to side in contemplation. In many ways, Jimmy felt it might be cathartic to reveal his innermost and pent up secrets to a stranger. His closest friends did not give him the time of day. This young suited man in the back of his cab had an air of neutrality about him, he engendered an element of trust, not common in a Fleet Street hack.

“
It was a long time ago, nearly ten years. I might not be the best person to ask, it's something I find difficult to talk about. It's affected my whole life.”

Joshua was rubbing his metaphorical hands. Jimmy's words sealed his interest. A real life emotional roller-coaster of a story, a firsthand account of a supposed alien abduction; Joshua could not believe his good fortune.

“
Look, can I buy you dinner somewhere or maybe we can talk over a drink at my hotel?” Joshua knew he had to convince his driver to agree before the journey's end.

“
I don't know. I work all sorts of hours, I’m hard to catch up with.”

“
You choose the time and place, I’m totally flexible.”

Jimmy's head cried out no but his heart was pulling him inexorably towards an interview. He did not want to be ridiculed anymore and he could see where this was leading

“
Total anonymity, I can guarantee it. I look after my sources.”

Joshua's pre-emptive words sealed the deal, after all what harm could it do. Jimmy nodded as Joshua handed him a business card with his contact details upon it.

“
Look, you know where my hotel is. I'll buy you a steak and we'll have a pint, how about that?”

Jimmy laughed, that was music to his ears.

“
I finish at six.”

“
Seven thirty then. Don't dress up will you.”

Jimmy laughed and swallowed hard.

“
OK.”

CHAPTER FIVE

United States Space Shuttle 'Destiny', Earth Orbit

November 11
^th
2020

Roger Coffey peered out of the diminutive window, pressing his nose to the cold glass and straining his eyes to glimpse a view of Australia as it passed. He brought the shiny metallic pouch to his lips and sucked hard on the nozzle. The orange gel shot out and coated the roof of his mouth.

“
Hey John, have you noticed this before?” Calling his pilot, John Corrigan, he made room for his colleague to gaze into the vacuous abyss, the greasy stain of the navigators face still remaining on the smooth glassy oval.

“
What am I meant to be looking at?” Corrigan asked with a hint of grumpiness.

“
The array just about half an inch at ten o'clock above Tasmania.”

“
Nope. Can't see anything there.”

Coffey did well to hide his annoyance and incredulity. Firstly, Corrigan's ambivalence towards his sighting but also his apparent myopia too.

“
Now does that look like a satellite to you?” He continued, pressing his case for something out of the ordinary.

“
Looks like it to me, if that's what you're looking at.”

“
Oh come on, it looks more like a station, it's too weird.”

Corrigan looked at Coffey and chewed hard on a piece of gum. It was a look of disdain that antagonised Coffey.