Legacy

Ahoy there! Mate’s I’m Captain Josh Aboitte.  I operate a medium size charter boat out of Boiler Bay, Oregon.  What I’m about to tell you is the absolute truth, even though so far, very few of us believe it, not to sure myself, but anyway here is how it happened.

My boat had been chartered by the Portland Oceanographic Institute to take four Oceanographers  out to where the Hump Back Whales were plentiful.  It seemed they wanted to use a tag gun which causes no pain to the whale, to tag a few whale with a GPS device so their migration patterns could be studied.  Personally I didn’t care one way or another, a charter was a charter and a buck was a buck.  I don’t judge them, I just haul them.

It was a nice sunny day, only a mild breeze with a fairly calm sea.  They had successfully tagged about a dozen whales while missing another dozen where the expensive GPS devices went into the sea and sank.  Had to bite my tongue a few times to keep from having my laughing heard.

We were just about ready to call it a day  when a small beam of red light came down and focused on the fore deck, we couldn’t tell where it came from, but there was a odd whirring sound somewhere above us.  Then it came down slow like a floating feather a gelatinous blob of matter about the size of a basketball, following that red beam as if it were a guide of some sort.  As it landed on the foredeck it changed from a rounded form to a mound as it spread out a bit.

The red beam vanished and the odd whirring sound went away.  We all went to examine whatever it was, and discovered it was semi transparent with a device in it center not unlike one of our GPS trackers, only a bit different and a bit larger.

Now an Oceanographer is like a curious scientist with a specialty, so one of them decided to reach in and pluck out the device for examination.  Couldn’t do it, the substance had hardened into a mass of great tensile strength.  Even an axe blow didn’t faze it.  Now I was beginning to get unhappy over it, so I said just grab that pile of (censored) and heave it overboard.  They tried too accommodate my request but couldn’t.  They said it was stuck to the deck like a pile of super glue, wouldn’t pry loose either.

I was about to say then rip up the planking and jettison the whole mess, but before I could, everything turned black then orange then black again all in the span of about fifteen seconds.  Then it was clear sky again.  As we were just getting over that surprise; we looked around and almost had a group heart attack.  There we were all of a sudden inexplicable, but there, in New York Harbor not far from the Statue of Liberty.

We were all so shocked we were froze in our tracks, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even faint, though I’m sure we all wanted to. Before we could recover our senses it was black, orange, and black again.  Suddenly we were back in Boiler Bay.

We became unfrozen so to speak and started exchanging glances that clearly telegraphed to each of us a mighty big question had arisen.

The as before we heard an odd whirring noise from some where over head and a beam of blue light, not red, but blue came down and the object on the foredeck simply rose up slowly and followed the beam upward to someplace. Then the blue light vanished, and an green one came down in is place.  When it vanished there was a device left on the deck that looked much like a tape recorder.

Of course we retrieved it.  It was a simple enough looking device so we turned it on and a voice in perfect English said, “Earthlings we are from beyond your star system, we have been monitoring and helping mankind for thousands of years from as you say, behind the scenes.  We wish to apologize for your experience; allow us to explain.  We our benefactors of mankind, but also have a sense of humor, sometimes we pull a small prank. To confess on that note, we have long interpreted the language of the whales. So when you tagged them we communicated to the tagged ones what had happened and they agreed to swim in a five mile pattern respectively.  That pattern forms a perfect square.”

“So back at the Portland Institute when they monitor your GPS tags they will be very excited.  That we meant as a harmless joke.  My young son who accompanied us on this trip got carried away and with typical teenage judgment decided to expand on the joke.  He tagged your boat with a instant programmable transport device and sent you to New York Harbor and back.”

“That obviously was carrying things to far and got past funny to cruel.  He has been taken to our equivalent of your Woodshed to be structured.  Again we of the Star System you call Sirus B, give our sincerest apologies.  We also know you will tell of this and be laughed at, for that we also apologize.  Please try not to think to ill of us.”