Trust Read Free

insignificance made the massive machine’s vast proportions instantly and incredibly apparent. The camera pulled back again to show more of the ragtag flotilla of cruisers, ferries, tugs and other ships (most obviously military, others apparently more industrial in their design) that had gathered in the shadows of the mysterious titanic. `I just don’t believe this,’ Robert mumbled under his breath. `They’re here. They’re actually here…’
            I had given up trying to shut Robert up and I turned up the sound to try and compensate. The unsure voice of an obviously dumbfounded commentator was speaking. `…just to remind you that for the time being we’ll be staying with this live coverage,’ the woman’s voice said, `and to repeat once again that these are genuine pictures. This is not a hoax.’
            I looked over my shoulder. Robert had a dumb, childish grin plastered across his face. I turned back and continued to stare into the screen, hypnotised by a combination of bewilderment, disbelief, nervousness and utter amazement.
            It was one of those life-defining moments.
            Like watching the Gulf wars kicking off live on TV.
            Like watching the space shuttle explode in the sky.
            Like hearing that the princess had died in the tunnel.
            Like watching the World Trade Centre collapse after the terrorist strikes.
            I knew that nothing was ever going to be the same again.
            A stream of information ran across the bottom of the television screen which read; `Confirmed arrival of alien ship.
            First official word from the Government due shortly. Downing Street spokesman advises population to remain calm. No evidence of hostility…’ `Can you imagine what Dad would have made of all of this,’
            Rob whispered. I nodded and smiled. My brother’s fervour and wonder would have paled into insignificance next to that of our dad. He had been a keen kitchen-sink scientist and amateur astronomer for as long as I could remember. He’d always seemed to be more interested in what was happening in space than in his own home and I would have given anything to have had him sitting next to me and watching the television now. He would have been so bloody excited. It all would have meant so much to him. `So what do you think the politicians are going to say?’ Rob asked. `Don’t know,’ I replied. `You would have expected them to try and play things down but I don’t see how they can now.’ `Why?’ `Because so many people have seen so much, that’s why.
            They’ve got to come clean and tell us everything they know.’ `Everything?’ `Well they’ve got to make the population believe that they’ve been told everything, haven’t they? They’ll do more harm than good if they don’t. The more they tell us, the less there is for people to make up for themselves. And the less people make up the…’
            The picture of the ship on the television screen disappeared and was replaced by a news reader’s face. The Government’s announcement was imminent. The speed of events only served to emphasise the potential gravity and scale of our situation. For me the appearance of the first grey-suited politician on the screen instantly took away the edge of excitement and replaced it with a sobering degree of nervous uncertainty. I sensed that the words I was about to hear would set an important tone. Any hostility or fear in the diplomat’s voice would indicate that our safety was not as guaranteed as we might naively have presumed in the bewilderment of the afternoon.
            The official walked towards a speaker’s plinth and as he did so he was showered with a relentless stream of light from a hundred camera flashes. He paused for a second to collect himself and then cleared his throat before speaking. `Earlier this morning,’ he began, his voice initially unsteady, `various observatories and