Evan Corey had been working nonstop all morning. Calls were being made to him about the littlest of issues, but he had to still take them seriously. Corey was 21. His clean cut features helped him fit in with his coworkers, who were mostly army men or top government officials. He worked for the government out in the desert of Nevada, though he had relocated for the time being to Holloman Air Force Base in New Mexico. His job was taking calls/messages for his superior—John Mills. Mills was part of the notorious "men in black", and what they did was a total mystery to Corey. All he knew was that he shouldn't ask questions, and he didn't.
It was 8:30 am, when the phone rang. Corey picked it up before the second ring.
"Hello." Corey said.
The message was short. The women hung up before he could answer. He wrote the message on a piece of paper, tore it, and proceeded to Mills' office. The narrow hallway was poorly lit, and was always cold.
You'd think they fix that, Corey thought.
He got to the end, and knocked on the wooden door. A loud knock rang through the hallway.
"Come in!" a voice called.
Corey entered. Mills was sitting at his desk, glasses on, reading through documents. Mills was 40, bald, and extremely fit. He hated wearing glasses, but he couldn't read without them. His office was spacious. A desk in the middle, with 3 chairs spread out in front of it. On one side, a huge bookcase filled with books on subjects ranging from outer space to the Florida Marlins—Mills' favorite baseball team. On the other side, pictures and awards littered the wall. Mills loved his family. Corey smiled.
"Good Morning, Corey." Mills embraced.
"Sir. Good Morning." Corey smiled as he walked over to his desk.
"What do you have for me, now?"
Corey handed him the note. Mills' eyes narrowed. After a moment of silence, Mills crushed the note, and threw it in the nearby wastebasket. Mills took a deep breath, and looked up.
"Thank you."
Corey gave a quick smile, turned around to leave, stopped, and turned back to face Mills.
"Sir? Uhh…I was wondering...what's this about? I've wanted to know what exactly you do."
Mills looked up from dialing his phone. He thought for a second, smiled, and motioned for him to sit down. Corey sat.
"Are you familiar with the Roswell story, Corey?"
Richardson opened the door. He lived on the outskirts of Roswell, New Mexico. His house was the last one in a row of houses. All that surrounded him was desert-a vast read ocean. It went on for miles. As for Richardson's house, it was small. Mulder and Richardson walked right into a living room. It was filled with army memorabilia and two large couches with a table in the middle. Parallel to the living room was a kitchen. Mulder assumed that a bathroom and bedroom was toward the back of the house. He didn't asked.
"Please, sit." Richardson said, "I'll be right back."
He left. Mulder sat on the couch and looked around. The old photos stared at him. Mulder had an eerie sensation that he was being watched. His phone rang.
"Mulder."
"Mulder!" A voice shouted.
Scully.
"Oh, hey, Scully. I'm sorry about leaving you. You know…this is Roswell…things tend to disappear." Mulder smiled.
The phone was silent.
"Scully?"
"Funny. I know where you are. Stay there. I'll be there shortly. And don't do anything stupid, please." Scully pleaded.
"Sorry, Scully, I'm sneaking on to a government facility—"
The phone went silent. She hung up. Mulder put the phone away as Richardson entered the room. He placed a crate on the table, and sat down next to Mulder. He wiped his glasses. Mulder took a good look at the crate. There were no markings on the crate except for a faded "Roswell, 1947". Mulder looked at Richardson.
"Open it up! What are you waiting for!" exclaimed Richardson.
Mulder shot up, and opened the crate. Luckily, the top wasn't bolted on, so Mulder took it off with ease. Inside was tissue paper. Mulder dug through. Excited, but careful, so he didn't rip anything. Then he felt something metallic. His heart was racing. His mind swimming with thoughts of how this was the Holy Grail. This was the answer. He pulled a sheet of metal out. He sat back down in awe. The metal was thin, and about as big as a sheet of computer paper. The edges looked liked they were torn. The amazing thing was that is was smooth. No dents, markings, or signs of damage. No rust. Mulder crumpled the metal. It crumpled, but suddenly changed back to its original form-flat and smooth. There was no sign that it had been crumpled just seconds earlier. Mulder tried tearing it. Nothing. It was as thin as tin foil, but as strong as diamond. Richardson smiled. Mulder was at lost for words. Richardson reached into the crate, and pulled 2 more pieces of material out. They were about the same size, and looked exactly like the one Mulder had in his hand. The doorbell rang. Mulder looked up.
"It's open!" Richardson yelled.
The door opened. It was Scully. She slowly entered the house, and looked at what Mulder had in his hand. Her facial expression changed from annoyance to an intrigued look.
"What is this?" she asked as she rushed over next to Mulder.
"You ever hear about that UFO crash…in Roswell," he sarcastically started, "you're looking at the debris." Mulder said coolly.
Scully was taken back. She picked up one of the other pieces, and examined it.
"How do you know this is from a UFO?" she asked.
"Well, the properties of this metal are unlike anything back in 1947!" Mulder exclaimed. "And if it's not from this Earth…"
Scully was weary. She turned toward Richardson.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to barge in like I did. I'm Special Agent Dana—" she began.
"Oh, I know. Your partner has told me everything. No need for introductions!" Richardson reassured.
Scully looked at Mulder. He smiled. Scully smiled back.
"Well," Scully cleared her throat, "I was wondering if I can take a piece back with me to Washington for further examination. I want to be sure that this couldn't be around in 1947."
Richardson agreed. Scully was a bit taken back. Everything was happening at once-this metal, how forthcoming this gentleman was, and this trip. She reassured herself to keep an open mind about everything.
Science may not know everything, she thought.
After a few more minutes discussing the metal at hand, there was a thunderous knock at the door. Richardson froze. Mulder and Scully looked up, confused.
"Richardson, open up! We have the place surrounded!" A voiced shouted.
Scully looked at Richardson. His body sat frozen, and his face expressed fear, which now made Scully worried. Mulder got up, and walked toward the door. He shoved the metal into his coat pocket.
"Richardson, we know you're there. Same with you Agents…"
A pause, and within seconds the deep voice returned.
"Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder."
Mulder looked back. Scully was confused.
How do they know us and who are they? Mulder thought. He knew Scully had the same thought.
"Who—"
Mulder was cut short as the door was blown away, knocking Mulder down, and people started rushing in. Scully stood up quickly, pulling her gun. Richardson sat there, realzing the truth. Mulder was on the ground, bleeding, as one of the men dragged him away.