November 21, 2036
8:16 a.m.
Jason Richards,
Reporter, Detroit Free Press
“How long do you want me to stay out here, George? It’s cold as hell, I’m hungry, and I’ve been sitting in this van for hours. I didn’t get breakfast ‘cause I didn’t think this assignment was gonna go this long, and my cell phone is running low for the same damned reason.”
“You got another assignment or something? Somewhere else to be? And if your cell phone is so low then why are you wasting battery power calling me?”
“How damned long you want me to stay out here.”
“All right, all right. Calm down, Jason. We just don’t wanna miss this thing if it actually happens, right?”
“It was supposed to happen three hours ago, George. At least that’s what you told me. Speaking of which, you never did tell me where you got that tip from, anyway. That this big thing was supposed to happen with the egg this morning that was gonna blow everybody’s mind and explain everything. Who told you that, anyway? Did somebody from the egg call you to give you the scoop? And how did the egg know you were the editor anyway? Why didn’t the egg call me? I’ve been covering this story since it broke and it’s my byline on all those stories, not yours.”
“I never said the egg called me, and don’t worry about how I got the tip. Just worry about not missing that story. If it happens, this could be a career-maker, like how Watergate made Woodward and Bernstein, only way the hell bigger. I’m just looking out for you like I always have. You’re welcome.”
“Who in the hell are Woodward and Bernstein?”
“Are you serious? OK, never mind. Hey you still haven’t seen any other reporters anywhere have you? Remember when they were all camped out there on the island 24/7, afraid to go home?”
“Yeah I do. That was back when the story was interesting, when we all thought some cool-looking aliens were about to step out of that egg at any minute. But here we are and the only half-decent story was when all those birds disappeared inside it. Other than that it’s been…”
“Half-decent story? All the birds disappear inside an alien craft hovering above the Detroit River, and months later they still have not returned. And you call that a half-decent story?”
“OK. Yeah. It was a big deal. But you know how this business is, there has to be follow-up. Momentum. Something to keep it on the front of everybody’s…wait. Hold up….
“Jason? What is it?”
“Holy… fucking…shit. I’ll call you back.”