Angelina was right—nothing prepared us for this.
Seeing an alien craft up close and personal, and then, in her case, touching it, was all pretty overwhelming.
She suggested we retreat to the motorhome to gather our thoughts and I agreed. We needed to talk things over and recover a bit from the shock.
She was still feeling weak and nauseous and who could blame her? Inhaling the stench of alien decomposition sealed for forty thousand years inside a spacecraft would make anyone puke.
Just the thought of it made my stomach turn, so I could sympathize to some degree with what that experience must have been like for her.
I was intending to make fresh coffee but a corporal showed up with an urn of steaming hot Tim Horton’s coffee and a variety of croissants, courtesy of General Thompson, he explained, as he set them down.
I think he was instructed to be attendant on our wishes, but we needed time alone so I thanked and dismissed him.
It was still considerate of the General and a pleasant change from the officer who preceded him who had no tact at all.
I thought Angelina might balk at the sight of food and the aroma of fresh coffee but she admitted that it smelled enticing. I coaxed her to sip at the hot drink and she ended up consuming two croissants as well.
“Tell me,” she said between bites of her croissant, “why did you call the craft, the abomination of desolation?”
I shrugged. “It just struck me as repulsive—and I remembered the phrase from the Bible that the pagan sacrifices were repugnant to God and that seemed an appropriate allusion.”
“So, are you saying handling or studying alien technology is offensive to God—that it’s a form of blaspheming or over-reaching as in the case of the Tower of Babel where the Israelites tried to rise above their station and enter heaven on their own?”
I was at a loss for words. “I don’t know—I just thought we were trying to take advantage of a higher technology than what we developed—that the whole purpose was not knowledge or respecting and learning about other off-planet entities and their culture, but just trying to get one up on the Russians.”
“That’s very interesting. I was thinking the same. The only reason the General is here is for national security—to protect us either from the aliens or our human enemies.”
I nodded, “I’m not saying that’s not a concern but it shouldn’t be our first concern—just staring at that alien craft was a solemn experience and I was in awe—and so were you.”
“Did you know some Bible scholars thought the abomination of desolation referred to the
Jews worshipping a statue of the Greek sky God whose image was adorned with fragments of meteorites that had fallen from the stars?”
“That’s fascinating!” I exclaimed, “it’s probably why some people refuse to believe that there could be life elsewhere in the universe, because it undermines their faith in God that we are a special creation.”
“Maybe they’re right,” Angelina mused.
I looked at her in shock, I wasn’t expecting her to say that.
She saw my surprised expression and laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that—I mean, maybe this ‘alien craft’ isn’t so alien afterall.”
“I don’t get it,” I muttered.
“Don’t you see—the hatch door opened to my touch? Everything I saw from the size of the entryway to the design of he craft wasn’t alien but human. I wouldn’t be surprised if the skeletal remains bear that out.”
“But don’t you believe the craft is forty thousand years old? I thought we were dwelling in caves back then?”
“Perhaps not,” she smiled. “It’s possible that there were many highly advanced civilizations before us that have died off and we’re not the first, as we are led to believe we are.”
My thoughts were whirling inside my head and her words were just a swarm of bumblebees enveloping and drowning out my common sense.
There was no way this could be true—or so I told myself. I thought the idea of aliens was upsetting familiar paradigms—but ancient human astronauts?
The world is suddener than I thought.
