Created 14th June 2011 by , finished 5th December 2011
Impossible sunlight flooded the upper deck of the transport, with the camouflage netting giving only partial relief. This was going to make Stefan's hangover all the more unbearable. He told himself this and then reminded himself to just get through the day, to just appear relaxed and normal.
Stefan was a trusted antenna mechanic on the Very Large Array of San Agustin, New Mexico, or at least that's what everyone thought. They thought he was out there today to set the antenna into the "D" configuration. The truth was he had something to install, something not meant to be installed, not ever.
It was the brand new, top secret macbook mast. Which was responsilbe for all the illegal downloading!
Stefan had set up the MacBook linkable mast to test a theory. It seemed he could configure just one part of the array to his own needs. For a month nobody had noticed his own private downloads, piggybacked on the array data.
But, the time had come. Could he also transmit, undetected ?
First, he needed to poo, badly.
As the thought hit him, he knew he needed to get a book to read to pass the time. Reaching up he grasps the first book on the shelf "Aardvarks, their religion, their myth and their long noses. Turning to the dog' eared page he started to read "And so it came to pass that in...." Stefan fell and hit his head on the
surprised blind woman, then came to his senses. He put the book back on the shelf, but out of place, just after 'Mesothelioma, an unfinished autobiography'. He rushed back to the array and retrieved a small black plastic box from his kit bag. The box had a lead from one side, which Stefan connected to the array.
Once he was sure there was no condensation to foil he circuitry, he slow starting squeezing the little black box and a low whine was emitted. He smiled in a dark and mischievous way as he increased the pressure ever so slowly.
Whipping out his sellotape, he attached the small box of electrical wizadry to the nearest Conifer, and retreated to a safe distance, rubbing his hands in glee.
The sap from the tree would make its work easy, all it needed was sufficient time, low humidity and a bit of fluctuation in the barometric pressure over the next few hours to provide at worst, marginal success. He predicted a much higher level of course.
it all depended on the ambient temperature. Too hot, and elasticity would be a problem, too cold and it would be brittle, and perhaps fall off. He waited patiently in the bushes like a predator, lurking,
Suddenly from behind him there was a soft pop followed by a low sizzling noise like a slow cooking Bratwurst in a deep pan of moderately hot Croation olive oil. The sounds were correct of course but coming from the wrong direction and much too close for comfort. Could it be that he had accidentally opened a wormhole?
He span around at the speed of light, choosing a suitable hyperbole in a desperate last minute attempt to drag the story back into the realms of sci-fi, and searched frantically for the wormhole, but none existed.
Instead he found the leftovers of a bedraggled cat, simmering gently over a half digested firework.