via a means that science simply didn’t understand and could not detect.
Or, they could detect it, and the government was keeping it to themselves. Dobbs went back and forth on this a lot. Art was inclined to believe in the super-competence of governments when it came to conspiracies, so it was his opinion that they knew a lot more than they were letting on. He spent as much time watching the army as the ship, for exactly this reason. Dobbs often leaned in the other direction, toward a government that was so incompetent they didn’t notice anything, but it was hard to tell if this was conviction or an instinct to present a contrary opinion for the sake of variety.
He made it to the trees. It was a cool night, but he was covered in sweat by the time he got there. That’s my workout for the day , he thought. A walk to the poop-trees.
He had a pattern, a system that involved visiting the trees in a certain order. This was to allow his prior contributions to the environment to dry (he covered them, but that didn’t always do much good) so he didn’t inadvertently step in a fresh something of his own making. This night’s visit was to tree number five, and he was on his way there when he thought he heard someone moving around in the woods.
“Hello?” he called.
It was unlikely anybody else from the trailers was out there; he’d have seen them walking.
“Someone there?”
He stood motionless and listened carefully, at first just to his heartbeat and to his breathing, but then to the woods around him.
There .
He heard it again, to his right. A rustling. Dead twigs, dried leaves… something with a little weight to it was moving around in the copse other than him.
It occurred to Dobbs for the first time that there might be wolves. He’d never heard of them out here, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
Wolves, or coyotes or bears. Or a giant deer.
But it wasn’t a wolf, or anything else on four legs.
A man stepped from behind one of the trees, mostly hidden from the starlight by the shadows.
“Oh, hi,” Dobbs greeted. “Um, sorry, I’m just… these aren’t your trees, are they?”
The man didn’t move or speak. Or necessarily even breathe, as far as Dobbs could tell. It was a little unnerving.
“Of course they aren’t your trees, the government owns… I’m Dobbs. I live in one of those trailers over there. I’m expected back soon.”
Silence. In the trickle of moonlight and starlight and lights from the spaceship perimeter, Dobbs could see enough to tell the man had a suit on, which was just weird on top of weird. Who would go walking around in the woods at night in a suit?
“Aaand, you are?”
“Are… you?”
The man had a dry, deep voice. It sounded like speaking caused him pain. Dobbs jumped three feet when he spoke and nearly did the thing he was there to do, only in his pants.
“What?” Dobbs asked. “Am I what?”
“Are you?”
The creepy guy in the suit was either asking Dobbs if he was someone, or he was reciting the international country code for the Russian Federation. Dobbs was pretty sure it was the former, but the two words by themselves didn’t make any sense.
“I don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Not,” the man said.
“I am… not?”
“Not.”
“Okay. Okay, so… I’m going to go now?”
The man didn’t move. Dobbs was covered head to toe in goose bumps and had dropped the roll of toilet paper somewhere it wasn’t worth hunting down.
The man could have been one of the trees, or a cardboard cutout. He’d never seen a person so still before.
It was inexplicably terrifying.
“Nice meeting you, goodbye,” Dobbs said.
It took five strides to get out of the trees and back into the open field. They were the most anxious five strides of Dobbs’ life. And when he was back out into the starlight he more or less ran to the middle of the field before looking back over his shoulder.
The man in the suit wasn’t following. Dobbs didn’t
Or, they could detect it, and the government was keeping it to themselves. Dobbs went back and forth on this a lot. Art was inclined to believe in the super-competence of governments when it came to conspiracies, so it was his opinion that they knew a lot more than they were letting on. He spent as much time watching the army as the ship, for exactly this reason. Dobbs often leaned in the other direction, toward a government that was so incompetent they didn’t notice anything, but it was hard to tell if this was conviction or an instinct to present a contrary opinion for the sake of variety.
He made it to the trees. It was a cool night, but he was covered in sweat by the time he got there. That’s my workout for the day , he thought. A walk to the poop-trees.
He had a pattern, a system that involved visiting the trees in a certain order. This was to allow his prior contributions to the environment to dry (he covered them, but that didn’t always do much good) so he didn’t inadvertently step in a fresh something of his own making. This night’s visit was to tree number five, and he was on his way there when he thought he heard someone moving around in the woods.
“Hello?” he called.
It was unlikely anybody else from the trailers was out there; he’d have seen them walking.
“Someone there?”
He stood motionless and listened carefully, at first just to his heartbeat and to his breathing, but then to the woods around him.
There .
He heard it again, to his right. A rustling. Dead twigs, dried leaves… something with a little weight to it was moving around in the copse other than him.
It occurred to Dobbs for the first time that there might be wolves. He’d never heard of them out here, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
Wolves, or coyotes or bears. Or a giant deer.
But it wasn’t a wolf, or anything else on four legs.
A man stepped from behind one of the trees, mostly hidden from the starlight by the shadows.
“Oh, hi,” Dobbs greeted. “Um, sorry, I’m just… these aren’t your trees, are they?”
The man didn’t move or speak. Or necessarily even breathe, as far as Dobbs could tell. It was a little unnerving.
“Of course they aren’t your trees, the government owns… I’m Dobbs. I live in one of those trailers over there. I’m expected back soon.”
Silence. In the trickle of moonlight and starlight and lights from the spaceship perimeter, Dobbs could see enough to tell the man had a suit on, which was just weird on top of weird. Who would go walking around in the woods at night in a suit?
“Aaand, you are?”
“Are… you?”
The man had a dry, deep voice. It sounded like speaking caused him pain. Dobbs jumped three feet when he spoke and nearly did the thing he was there to do, only in his pants.
“What?” Dobbs asked. “Am I what?”
“Are you?”
The creepy guy in the suit was either asking Dobbs if he was someone, or he was reciting the international country code for the Russian Federation. Dobbs was pretty sure it was the former, but the two words by themselves didn’t make any sense.
“I don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Not,” the man said.
“I am… not?”
“Not.”
“Okay. Okay, so… I’m going to go now?”
The man didn’t move. Dobbs was covered head to toe in goose bumps and had dropped the roll of toilet paper somewhere it wasn’t worth hunting down.
The man could have been one of the trees, or a cardboard cutout. He’d never seen a person so still before.
It was inexplicably terrifying.
“Nice meeting you, goodbye,” Dobbs said.
It took five strides to get out of the trees and back into the open field. They were the most anxious five strides of Dobbs’ life. And when he was back out into the starlight he more or less ran to the middle of the field before looking back over his shoulder.
The man in the suit wasn’t following. Dobbs didn’t
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