Break in the Monotony

I'm afraid there's not much to tell – nothing new, at least. I tried to think of something important I could add – something missed by reporters and other witnesses, something undocumented. I couldn't think of anything. But you've asked me to tell the story, and I don't mind telling it. So, here it is.

The craft, or ship I guess, landed on the roof of my company's office tower. It wasn't very big, which is a good thing since there's not really a lot of space for landing things up there, but it was heavy. It was reported later an inspection showed the its weight was probably a pound less than that particular area of the roof could support. Lucky.

Though it landed on my building, those of us inside weren't the first to know about it. The landing was actually caught live on the news 3 traffic-copter as the traffic reporter, Chopper Dan, began his first report of the afternoon. People all over the mid state watched it land, but none of us inside knew anything until those people started calling. A chorus of cell phone rings blared throughout the cube farm as loved ones called to tell us our building was on TV.

Having the closest thing to a reporter on the scene the producers at news 3 ordered the traffic-copter pilot to fly closer and ordered Chopper Dan to start reporting. Aside from an I-Reporting how-to video I saw on CNN's website once, I know very little about journalism, but it seems to me this really should have been Chopper Dan's big break. UFO invasion - it doesn't get much bigger than that. He could've finally dropped the “chopper” and just been Dan again. As it turned out he wasn't in complete control of things though. The pilot wasn't thinking about Dan's career. The YouTube footage I saw later showed my building with the craft atop it moving further and further away with the pilot praying, and very specifically listing his sins and begging for forgiveness, while Chopper Dan screamed at him to turn this goddamn helicopter around right NOW.

The ship made an attempt at contact via the building's intercom system. The usual announcements, I suppose. “We come in peace.” “May we speak to your leader?” That sort of thing. To tell the truth, I don't know what all was said. I doubt anyone does. By that point we knew something serious was happening and a full-blown panic was underway.

I wish I could say I was calm and kept my head while those around me lost theirs, but the truth is I ran for the stairwell as quickly as anyone else. When I later found out that in the excitement Ruth, the semi-retired receptionist, was knocked against a wall and broke her arm, I couldn't help but remember the small grey blur I leaped over as I rounded the corner. I've decided to believe she would have done the same thing.

While there was plenty of running, yelling and general panic roaring throughout the cube farm, to my surprise the practice gained from our biannual building fire drills turned out to be quite effective. Once in the stairwell and removed from the voices coming over the intercom, we became calm and docile. We walked slowly, but resolutely, down the stairs occasionally passing a waving, orange-vested fire warden. Few people talked, and no one mentioned what was happening – or rather what we all assumed to be happening. The closest I heard anyone come was an expression of gratitude for the break in the monotony. In the hundreds of interviews of building staff later produced, packaged and published in every conceivable media outlet, I've heard no mention of the calm in the stairwell. We've all kept it to ourselves. I think we collectively decided it was too unbelievable.

(Hmmm, I guess that stairwell thing is new, huh? Glad I could think of something.)

So, while we were exiting the building, things were happening outside. The police helicopter had been mobilized and was circling the building. Another local news helicopter joined in shortly thereafter and recorded everything. TV screens worldwide showed images of my office building's roof and the small downtown of our city. The next week I watched the video with some friends and pointed out how in the background you could almost see my house. If that hospital wasn't there, it would have been clear as day.

In a way I feel bad for those poor souls on the other side of the world, sleeping through the whole thing, but in truth I almost feel like one of them. Both in the building and later in the quarantine zone quickly established in Ray park across the street, none of us got the live, wide-screen, close-up, HD view being beamed to the rest of the world. For some reason one guy had a pair of binoculars, but he wasn't sharing. The rest of us had to squint. Like those who slept through it, we had to wait for the replay.

Once out of the building and into the quarantine zone, those of us who had them pulled out our smart phones. Quickly we learned that CNN.com, Fox, YouTube, all the media websites, had all crashed as soon as word of what was happening began to get out. Cell networks were flooded too. Even the most robust system can't handle everyone trying to connect. No Internet access. No cell service. Our devices weren't useless though. We began taking pictures and video. Since then, those images and videos have aired on every news channel and can be found all over the web. I took some of them myself, and I'm in a number of others. I know a few people were hoping to make some money off the footage, but there were just too many people giving it away. Everyone's an I-Reporter these days. Personally, I don't regret not making any money. I just wish I hadn't worn a short-sleeve button up, "nerd" shirt that day. Message boards can be cruel.

As far as I know, and as far as any of the reports I've seen suggest, no one ever actually made contact with the ship, nor did it try communicating again after the initial attempt with the building's intercom. For a while there was a rumor spreading through the quarantine zone that Bob Winkle – or “Bull” as most of us call him – the building manager, was in communication via the intercom – this rumor was even picked up by NBC – but it was later learned that Bull was in the park with the rest of us. He'd bolted after the first "We come in peace" and hadn't talked with anyone.

Bull's supposed chat with the ship wasn't the only rumor flying around. There were - and still are - plenty of rumors, theories and wild speculations about the events of that day. You've got your usual government/corporate conspiracy and terrorist plot stuff, but others are pretty good. The Russians testing some rediscovered cold-war, spy satellite. Reality show gone wrong. God's remodeled chariot of fire come looking for a pious man.

TV Experts on every imaginable subject were called in to discuss the matter as the world set glued to the screen. None of them knew anything, of course, but there was time to fill. And fill it they did. And, of course, this is the sort of news that doesn't stop giving. There seems to be no end to the coverage. I'm sure it's been a gold mine for advertisers. By now we can all quote commercials for male-enhancement pills and stock trading services by heart.

Despite all the rumors and speculations, the most common theory was - and is - the one I'm certain is the truth. Aliens. We're not alone. I guess that's kind of a big deal.

Well there's not a lot left to tell. As you know the ship didn't stick around very long. It's funny though. Talking about it... I remember everything, but it in some ways most of it seems like a movie. Like something I watched more than lived. You wouldn't think it would be that way, would you? I mean, I know it happened, and I know it was a big deal. I got to meet Matt Lauer after all. But...Oh, I don't know. It's funny.

Anyway, about 6:00 – just over an hour after it landed – the craft left. And - you know what? - this part is different. This part is not like a movie to me. This really happened. It's also the one thing the recorded images and video weren't able to capture. It started with a great whooshing sound that caused everyone to look up. Then the sky, the clouds, the building, everything began to...ripple. Like a reflection in a pool of water after a stone is dropped in. The space around the craft shrank and expanded, shrank and expanded in waves of...well, I don't know what. All I know is the waves spread out all around while the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sound grew louder and faster. Eventually the whooshing and warping reached the ground and everyone watching. A woman near me screamed and fainted, but most of us kept quiet. We felt a gentle pulse wash over us. It was both energizing and peaceful. Our bodies tingled and our hair stood on end. It probably sounds scary, but it wasn't. Every face had a smile. It's hard to explain. Again, there's no way you can relive this online or on TV. The feeling was - it kinda comes back to me just talking about it - we were THERE. Does that make sense? It was the feeling of waking from a dream. One of those dreams that doesn't seem like a dream when you're having it, but as soon as you wake seems so unreal you don't know how you could have mistaken it for truth.

Then it was gone. The ripples stopped. We kept looking up for a long while, but nothing more happened. After that we began to just, sort of, mill around the park. The cops and emergency personnel wandered over to join us. Someone went to look after the woman who'd fainted, but most of us just...hung out. Several of us took off our shoes. The grass and earth felt nice under our feet and between our toes. I realized it had been a long, long time since I'd been bare-foot outside. It was nice.

That's my story. After that more cops came. Then the reporters. Then the military. We were examined and interrogated. Then we were sent home. Many of us talked with reporters, some did not. The building was closed for nearly a month. We finally all went back to work last week. Things looked pretty much as we'd left them – though I understand there was some damage done to the top floor by the investigators – and we're getting back into the swing of things again. The monotony of everyday life.