Detina Nocturnal Sun THE NEXT WEEK WAS REMARKABLE ONLY FOR ITS UNEVENTFULNESS. To David's frustration, Richard still showed not even the flicker of interest in the Detinian affair, even though the friendship between the two had grown immensely. Richard seemed to ignore discussions on Detina at all times, as if it embarrassed him, and he never made public his own opinion. In fact, on Thursday morning, when Josh was late in arriving at school, Dave, Rich, Nathan and Adam decided to play a game of handball in the main quadrangle. David suggested that they should split into two teams: one for Detina comprising Richard and himself, and the other representing Earth with Nathan and Adam. However, both Nathan and Richard objected to this proposal, and swapped their respective designations. The week dragged by excruciatingly slowly. Every morning David would wake from a night of bland dreams and dread the lack of urgency that they portended; every day at school he would feverishly discuss Detina with his familiar circle of friends; every afternoon he would while away the time jumping on the trampoline at JC's house, or exploring the town, or watching Voltes V on TV; every night he would stare up at the clear black sky and search desperately for his brothers, wondering when they would arrive, or if they even existed. And every day would end just unremarkably just like the last, and with every crimson sunset David felt more and more unsure, closer and closer to the realization that he was just a small part of an unfathomably vast and complex cosmos that cared little for his gullible fantasies. Saturday came with a pale blue sky that promised another warm day devoid of cloud. Midmorning David found himself upon Josh's trampoline chatting and basking in the sunshine. David had expressed a desire to go out to the scrub, and his good buddy was contemplating the idea. Presently Nathan and Richard rolled into the backyard riding bikes. David bid them both a hearty greeting and bounded down to the soft grassy lawn. <<What's happening, gentlemen?>> he asked. Richard spoke up. <<Me Dad and a few of his mates have gone out to the scrub choppin' wood. We're goin' out there to help. D'you want to come?>> <<Sure, we'll come>> David replied, swiftly putting on his shoes. <<We've been waiting to tell you the good news: JC and I have decided to let you join the Red Hand Gang!>> <<Only thing is>> Joshua cautioned him <<you need to sign your initials in blood.>> SOMETIME LATER THEY had arrived at a clearing in the scrub noisy with din of chainsaws and collapsing timber. Richard Blakely's father, a rugged, stocky man with an untrimmed beard, was toiling heartily away in the mounting heat, chips splintering, carving a path of destruction through the withered trees. There were another half a dozen men present, busy accumulating a notable pile of firewood beside a dirty utility truck. Eager to help, Nathan and Richard began loading the ute with the gathered logs. David and Josh, more inclined to watch, opted to sit on a rotten stump and observe the hustle and bustle. The air was warm; golden shafts of sunlight cut through the meagre overhead canopy and enveloped the earth in a lulling sense of drowsiness. David felt suddenly tired, more tired than ever before, or so it seemed. It was a deeper fatigue than that caused by lack of sleep. He was spiritually drained, emotionally exhausted. He closed his eyes, still conscious of the hypnotic drone of the distant (or apparently so) chainsaws. The rest of the world was absent - unseen, unheard, unfelt. He felt deliciously comfortable, like a lizard basking in the summer sun. And as he drifted away into bliss the revelations started. First came the realization that the site of the recent landing was not so far away, only a couple of hundred meters at most. He resolved to inspect it before returning home. And on that single thought a dream of sorts was fashioned. A vision appeared of the nearby glade at night, illuminated by a tremendous descending disk, a football field in width at least. David was waiting at the edge of the clearing, his hair tossed by the UFO's furious downwash. It seemed to be creating ruptures, not only through the air, but the woods and the ground as well. Indeed, the very cosmos was rippling in a most peculiar way, and this included the dimension of time. Seconds turned into hours, and hours passed by in seconds, or so it seemed to him. An aperture slid open on one side of the vessel, welcoming him inside. Without hesitation he strode out of the shadows, and stepped over the gleaming threshold of the alien vessel. The door swiftly closed behind him, but it brought him little concern. His attention was drawn to a square porthole which punctured the circular wall, capturing spectacular views of the world beneath rapidly dropping away. After a jumbled sequence of events, David found himself looking upon a small ball of blue and white which was retreating into a sea of stars. And the stars burned, with an amazing fervor! Suddenly the stars melted into a milky ether, and then reinstated themselves in entirely new positions. The Earth was gone, replaced by a sterile grey sphere. It looked remarkably similar to the Moon, David thought, although it was a little darker in hue and lacked its distinctive sea patterns. As the UFO swung into orbit around this satellite, a lune of darkness expanded across its upper face, revealing a constellation of artificial stars on its cratered surface. One of those unwavering lights became home to the boy's awareness as another disjoint cracked through his waking dream. He stood before a wallsized window in a swarming, cavernous chamber that reminded him of an airport lounge. Beyond the glass stretched a desolate lunar plain, barely visible against the jetblack sky. The sun was setting but, in the west, a second dawn was stirring. David gasped in awe as the motherworld slowly rose over the craters, blue oceans sparkling, two large prosperous continents concealed by swirls of wispy cloud. It seemed to be pulsing, as if it was alive, a living, breathing body. Detina! THE RETURN to reality transitioned abruptly, but without discomfort. David opened his eyes to find himself back at the scrub, chainsaws whining, Joshua sitting by his side. The dream had taken him on a mental journey of 200,000 lightyears and had lasted less than a minute or two, but the boy spent five times that duration reliving it in vivid detail, analyzing each individual scene to decipher its meaning. At last, with much deliberation, he reached a conclusion. <<They're picking us up tonight>> he said, aloud. A FREAK GUST of wind came up out of nowhere, rustling the trees, and shaking the window of David's bedroom. It was the message that he'd been waiting for, and it said: Knock, knock. David's heart literally skipped a beat. He felt torn between the security of bed, and the excitement of returning back to the scrub with his buddies and meeting the UFO. How easily could he lie here, go back to sleep and enjoy a comfortable Sunday with his brothers! But the visions of the previous day had been so intense, he knew that they had to be true. The mystery of his origin would continue to burn in his soul until he discovered the answer. Anyway, how dumb would he feel if Joshua, Richard and Nathan disappeared into the night, and he was left behind? He hastily put on warm clothes, and throwing a pack over his shoulder, took one last forlorn look at his bedroom. He then crept silently along the short passage to the back door. The door creaked openly loudly, but thankfully it did not wake anyone in the house. David descended the porch steps feeling like a runaway. His BMX waited ready out on the lawn like a faithful steed, its saddle dripping with dew. It was now the far side of midnight; the town was even quieter than usual, save for the rumbling of a distant truck, or the screech of a car driven by larrikins home from a teenage party. It was also rather cool, and he appeared to exhale smoke as he carefully pedaled out of his yard, over the wide main street, and through the vacant block that bordered on Joshua's place. <<Two knocks? Is that all?>> Richard asked incredulously, when it was his turn to get roused. <<Your window knocks twice, and you think that is proof that you come from another galaxy?>> <<It's a bit more complicated than that>> David tried to explain. <<Two knocks is the trigger. After that, more information can be encoded.>> <<What kind of information?>> <<You'll see>> David responded. THE NIGHT grew colder. Fog crawled up from hollows on the side of the road, and through the canopy of the woods, the stars blazed with their elemental beauty. The party progressed by torchlight and spoke rarely, engulfed in the pensive mood of this oneness with the bush. David located the dirt track leading to the clearing and began to follow it. Nathan broke the uncanny silence with: <<I don't think they're here yet.>> David couldn't say anything; his attention was concentrated on the sky. Faintly, ever so faintly, a low murmuring drone could be heard, as if it was rumbling through the earth. A crashing sound startled the four out of their wits, and they turned hurriedly to witness a mob of kangaroos darting terrified across the clearing. The drone grew louder, and more ominous. Then the craft appeared, and the heavens were lit up by a descending moon, illuminating the bush in a harsh, unnatural hue. To David, in that bewildering moment, it looked more like a nocturnal sun, making a rare visit to the Earth. FIRST CONTACT (c)opyright Rob Sullivan 1988-2024. Contact the author for all your criticisms and feedbacks.