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The Deep: Part Two

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Mr. X reveals the truths behind the conspiracies.

Note: You do not need to have read 'The Deep' in order to understand or enjoy this story.

Thank you for reading!

Submitted: February 14, 2019

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Submitted: February 14, 2019

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The Deep:

Part Two

 

A humming of voices is heard emanating from the living room of a suburban home.  The family gathers around for a special broadcast interview.  Two children sit on the floor and the man and wife in their respective arm-chair and sofa. 

The TV flashes back and forth between two different people as they casually banter.  One is an interviewer and the other is someone with a concealed identity.

The man with the concealed identity has a distorted voice; deep, and ominous; partially muffled.  It is clear the man doesn’t want anyone to know who he is.

“Thank you for accepting this interview with us today.  I know how hard it must have been to agree to this considering the sensitive nature of the subject.”  The interviewer says in a pandering demeanor.

The interviewee has a darkened persona.  He responds with a deep tone.

“Thank you for having me.  This definitely wasn’t easy, but this is an opportunity for me to divulge my experiences while working at S-4.  This is something I feel that everyone should know.”  The interviewee says.

“For the sake of convenience, what should we call you during the interview?”  The interviewer asks.

“You can call me Mister X.” The man affirms with a brief, deep chuckle.  “If calling me something is necessary”.

The interviewer pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts.

“The detail behind what you are here to speak to us about is quite vague and holds a lot of skepticism amongst our viewers and even many esteemed individuals of the scientific community.”  The interviewer touts.

“Yes, you are right.  However, whether anyone believes me or not I know what I saw with my own eyes and touched with my own hands while working at S-4.  It is, without conjecture, real.”  Mister X says in a calm and confident tone.

“It’s been said you believe that the United States Government is withholding information from the people about intelligent life beyond Earth.  Could you elaborate on this?”  The interviewer asks. 

“Yes.  I’ve seen numerous space craft that are not of our world.  These space crafts are not even in our scope of technological capability.”  Mister X pauses after his claim allowing the news to hit the synapses of everyone watching.  “We’ve gotten one to fly by reverse-engineering the alien technology, however.”

“What you’re saying is unbelievable…in the exact definition of the word.  But, many people out there —“, the interviewer motions toward the cameras, “--would like to know how and where we have flown these space crafts?”  The interviewer asks aloof.

“We’ve flown across the globe.  And, more fantastically, to other planets beyond our solar system.”  Mister X explains. “The first craft we reverse-engineered killed the test pilot due the way the craft manipulated space-time for interstellar travel.  So, we made some very small tweaks to allow for humans to safely operate it.”

The interviewer looks into the camera, bewildered, as Mister X pauses.

“What you’re telling the viewers and myself, in confidence", the interviewer continued, "is that there are humans that have left Earth and now reside on other planets--not even within the bounds of our own star system?”

“Yes.”

After a few moments of silence, the interviewer pushes words from his throat. 

“We’ll be back after a short break!”

The interview cuts to commercial break. 

The two children sitting on the living room floor stare intently at a Reese’s Peanut butter Cup commercial; chocolates danced on-screen. 

The wife sits still--frozen in disbelief.  She forces herself to look back at her husband sitting in his arm-chair.  She whispers cupping and concealing her mouth with one hand.  “Honey, you can’t be serious?” the wife says softly to her husband.

He nods in affirmation.


© Copyright 2020 Ryan K. Mallegni. All rights reserved.

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