newspaper and pointed at a grainy picture. He slapped his finger on the screen, exclaiming in triumph.
“There!”
From what Jason could make out, the image showed someone pulling a young child from the ocean into a rickety old fishing boat. There was something beneath the water directly below the boat, but it was impossible to make out what the object was. He reached over and touched the glass screen, pinching with his fingers and enlarging the image.
Lights appeared to glow from beneath the waves, but he thought they looked like they’d been added to the photograph.
Jason read the caption beneath the photo.
“Two decades have passed since the Incheon Incident, when a UFO crashed into the sea off the coast of North Korea. The only known survivor of this extraterrestrial contact was a young girl of three or four, rescued from the ocean by North Korean fishermen as the UFO took on water and sank.”
“I don’t see what this proves,” Jason said.
Mitchell turned to another virtual page, crying, “Look at that!”
He pointed at an image of a UFO flying past the Empire State building. Apart from the appalling lack of chromatic balance, Jason didn’t see anything noteworthy in the picture.
“It’s the same UFO,” Mitchell announced.
“It’s the same poor photoshop skills,” Jason conceded. He pretended to peer closely at the screen, taking the computer tablet from Mitchell and holding absurdly close to his face until the glass touched his nose. He squinted, adding, “Oh, yeah. That’s definitely been doctored by the same guy!”
Mitchell laughed as Jason gently placed the tablet back on the table.
Jason loved Mitchell like a brother, ever since they'd met during their first year at college, but his gullibility for the outlandishly absurd was astonishing to Jason's rational mind.
Mitchell said, “Look at the facts: twenty years ago, a UFO crashes and a young girl survives. Today, you meet a roughly twenty year old woman from the same province. What are the odds that they are one and the same person?”
Jason thought about it for a second and said, “Zero. One’s fictitious, the other’s real. There’s no chance they’re one and the same person.”
“Come on,” Mitchell pleaded. “Think about it. All life on Earth follows circadian rhythms, with a day/night wake/rest cycle, but by your own admission little old Lily sat up all night. How do you explain that?”
“Two words,” Jason said, watching as Helena and Lily walked over to join them. “Jet lag.”
Lily smiled. She slid around into the booth and sat next to him. For someone who had dropped into his world barely a day ago, having her beside him felt both comforting and refreshing. Jason couldn’t express why, but it felt natural to be with her, as though they belonged together. He wasn’t one for the old cliché of love at first sight, but Lily was different from any other girl he’d ever met. She seemed almost disinterested in a physical relationship, and he found that strangely appealing. Perhaps it was the lack of expectation that disarmed him, the absence of any pressure was welcome. Rather than trying to make something happen between them, it felt like it had already happened years ago.
Was this déjà vu, he wondered? Jason wasn’t one to buy into superstitions. He preferred to think of the two of them as somehow complimentary at a hormonal level. Yes, he thought, compatible chemistry, that was a better explanation.
“Are you guys ready to order?” a waitress asked, standing there with her plastic stylus poised above a digital tablet ready to take their order.
“Blueberry pancakes,” Jason said.
“I’ll have the deluxe omelet,” Helena said.
“Trucker’s breakfast,” Mitchell said.
Lily looked overwhelmed by the choices on the menu. Each meal had a glossy, color image associated with it, and Jason could see her eyes darting around the menu without settling on anything.
“What do you normally have for
“There!”
From what Jason could make out, the image showed someone pulling a young child from the ocean into a rickety old fishing boat. There was something beneath the water directly below the boat, but it was impossible to make out what the object was. He reached over and touched the glass screen, pinching with his fingers and enlarging the image.
Lights appeared to glow from beneath the waves, but he thought they looked like they’d been added to the photograph.
Jason read the caption beneath the photo.
“Two decades have passed since the Incheon Incident, when a UFO crashed into the sea off the coast of North Korea. The only known survivor of this extraterrestrial contact was a young girl of three or four, rescued from the ocean by North Korean fishermen as the UFO took on water and sank.”
“I don’t see what this proves,” Jason said.
Mitchell turned to another virtual page, crying, “Look at that!”
He pointed at an image of a UFO flying past the Empire State building. Apart from the appalling lack of chromatic balance, Jason didn’t see anything noteworthy in the picture.
“It’s the same UFO,” Mitchell announced.
“It’s the same poor photoshop skills,” Jason conceded. He pretended to peer closely at the screen, taking the computer tablet from Mitchell and holding absurdly close to his face until the glass touched his nose. He squinted, adding, “Oh, yeah. That’s definitely been doctored by the same guy!”
Mitchell laughed as Jason gently placed the tablet back on the table.
Jason loved Mitchell like a brother, ever since they'd met during their first year at college, but his gullibility for the outlandishly absurd was astonishing to Jason's rational mind.
Mitchell said, “Look at the facts: twenty years ago, a UFO crashes and a young girl survives. Today, you meet a roughly twenty year old woman from the same province. What are the odds that they are one and the same person?”
Jason thought about it for a second and said, “Zero. One’s fictitious, the other’s real. There’s no chance they’re one and the same person.”
“Come on,” Mitchell pleaded. “Think about it. All life on Earth follows circadian rhythms, with a day/night wake/rest cycle, but by your own admission little old Lily sat up all night. How do you explain that?”
“Two words,” Jason said, watching as Helena and Lily walked over to join them. “Jet lag.”
Lily smiled. She slid around into the booth and sat next to him. For someone who had dropped into his world barely a day ago, having her beside him felt both comforting and refreshing. Jason couldn’t express why, but it felt natural to be with her, as though they belonged together. He wasn’t one for the old cliché of love at first sight, but Lily was different from any other girl he’d ever met. She seemed almost disinterested in a physical relationship, and he found that strangely appealing. Perhaps it was the lack of expectation that disarmed him, the absence of any pressure was welcome. Rather than trying to make something happen between them, it felt like it had already happened years ago.
Was this déjà vu, he wondered? Jason wasn’t one to buy into superstitions. He preferred to think of the two of them as somehow complimentary at a hormonal level. Yes, he thought, compatible chemistry, that was a better explanation.
“Are you guys ready to order?” a waitress asked, standing there with her plastic stylus poised above a digital tablet ready to take their order.
“Blueberry pancakes,” Jason said.
“I’ll have the deluxe omelet,” Helena said.
“Trucker’s breakfast,” Mitchell said.
Lily looked overwhelmed by the choices on the menu. Each meal had a glossy, color image associated with it, and Jason could see her eyes darting around the menu without settling on anything.
“What do you normally have for
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