The sun was barely a finger-width above the horizon but Frank Townsend had already been up for an hour. Some things didn’t change, despite all the excitement going on around them. Grass still grew, cows still ate it, and they still needed to be milked.
The last of them came down the race and entered the milking parlour as a voice behind him said, ‘Need a hand?’
Frank turned to his brother. ‘You’re up early,’
‘Country air, eh?’
‘You still remember the routine?’
‘Like riding a bike, isn’t it? Anyway, the exercise is supposed to be good for my legs.’
He leaned his crutches against the wall and they worked together silently, side by side, washing, cleaning, connecting the teat cups. When they were done, they leaned on a railing and watched the milking machine at work, listening to its familiar hiss and clank.
‘You never forget, eh?’ Frank said. Glenn shook his head. ‘D’you miss it?’
‘Occasionally. When I’m stuck in traffic or in the middle of a boring meeting. But mostly not.’
‘Dad had to leave it to someone. He didn’t want to see it sold off or broken up.’
‘Yeah, I see that now. He did the right thing too. I went off to university and did my OE, but you stayed here and stuck with it. And him. You deserved it, Frank. But it still hurt a bit at the time, you know?’
‘It’s just stuff, Glenn. Things. Possessions. It doesn’t mean he and Mum loved you any less.’
‘I understand that now. Getting older gives you a sense of perspective. I’m afraid I was a bit of hothead in those days. Said a few things I regret.’
‘We both did.’
‘And I’m sorry about foisting the kids on you and Em. After the accident, Social Services said they had to go to a relative. Either that or into care. And we thought it’d only be for a couple of weeks.’
‘Think nothing of it. No foisting involved,’ Frank said. ‘They’re good kids. Fun to have around. They’ve given Em and me cause to reconsider.’
‘About having a family?’
‘Be nice to leave this place to someone with a love of the land.’
‘Like Dad did.’
The milking continued. They watched the flow through a sight glass. Glenn added, ‘I’ve been talking to Avril about staying on for a bit. Just to be around. Just in case. We’ve still got a few weeks off work on account of those things,’ he gestured at his crutches, ‘and better to be here than Auckland, especially the way the news vultures are gathering. At least the army and police are keeping them away from the farm.’
A steady stream of phone calls had started the previous afternoon. Reporters wanting to talk to the grieving parents. Wanting to know how it felt to lose your children to aliens.
‘If that’s all right with you and Em,’ Glenn added.
‘No worries on either score, mate. But what about your job?’
‘Have you got broadband?’
‘I haven’t even got a hat band.’
‘Come on Frank, stop playing the local yokel. You know what I mean.’
‘Can get it, I s’pose. The Robinsons up the road have been hooked up for years.’
‘There you go. If I get some gear sent down I can work from here. All I need’s a laptop and a bit of peace and quiet.’
‘You’ll get plenty of that.’
‘I don’t know how Avril will take to it though. She does like her cafes and shops.’
‘RAGS and RAM are only twenty K away. What more could she want?’
Glenn grinned. ‘Exactly.’
‘This hasn’t got anything to do with what Glad said last night, has it?’
‘It was a hell of a story, all right. And I have to say that if it hadn’t been for that plate ... Well, there’s only so much fantastical stuff you can take in, you know?’
‘I know what you mean. That sister-in-law of mine ...’ Frank shook his head. ‘But Glad Smith’s as straight as an arrow. Always has been. If she says she was shot by a killer robot, I’m not going to say she wasn’t.’
‘Still, be nice to have a little more proof, wouldn’t it? And what do we tell Upshott?’
‘I’d say we say nothing for the moment. Let’s see what their experts come up with.’
They finished up, saw off the last of the cows and began hosing down.
‘What happened up there?’ Glenn said.
‘Up where?’
‘That hole in the roof?’
‘Is this one of those Auckland tricks where you get me to look up then stick the hose down my trousers?’
‘No, seriously. Look.’
Frank looked. There was a neat round hole in the corrugated iron thirty millimetres across.
‘Where the hell did that come from? That wasn’t there yesterday. There’s a dent in the side of that separator too. Look at that. That’s stainless steel. You’d have a job doing that with a sledgehammer.’
They studied the matching dent in the curved metal surface. ‘I heard a bang in the night. I thought it was those army jokers.’
Glenn traced the object’s path with his finger. ‘Something came through the roof there and hit the separator. Something round.’
‘Turn the hose under here, will you.’
Glenn did so, and along with a stream of water, a silver sphere the size of a large ball bearing rolled into the drainage gutter.
The brothers looked at each other, then Frank bent and picked it up.
‘It’s got writing on it. Etched into the surface.’
Glenn squinted. ‘I haven’t got my glasses. What does it say?’
‘This bit says, “Twist here to open”, but there’s a line above it, written in capitals.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Like an address.’ He looked at his brother. ‘It says “ATTENTION: UNCLE FRANK!”.’