“Never have I ever left the country.”
A circle of teenagers, six in total, groaned around a campfire as half of them put down a finger on their open hand. The kid who spoke looked around sheepishly.
“Never, Quill?” said Annalise with the pink hair, pulling a bright blue blanket around her.
“Don’t even have a passport,” said Quill. “Just something my parents and I never got to do.”
The group fell silent, making space for the crackle of fire and chirp of crickets.
“When we graduate,” said Vic. “Apply for your passport now, and we can all go somewhere before we never see each other again.”
The very thought was dismissed with stark laughter.
“We can all save up,” said Vic. “We probably should put it towards college, but I’d rather see what kind of stuff Quill’s brain comes up with once they see someplace completely new.”
Quill felt their cheeks turn red; Vic was the first person to read anything they published online and then loudly talk about it on every corner of social media. He hyped the young introvert up in public, too, which always mixed up one part delight to two parts embarrassment in their gut. Quill looked up at the starry sky to avoid having to respond.
The night sky was always more beautiful on the campground. Annalise said that the light pollution from even their small town interfered with “optimal viewing conditions,” but out here with nothing but their bonfire they could see almost everything. Quill wondered how many more camping trips their group would have; the chill of October threatened them even tonight.
One of the stars in particular seemed to glow brighter than the rest. “Hey, Annalise, which one is that?” Quill asked, pointing up at it.
Annalise followed Quill’s finger up to the sky. She puzzled for a moment. “It’s really bright,” she concluded. “It’s got to be a planet of some kind, but I don’t remember reading that a planet should be visible tonight. Hang on, let me check.”
Annalise pulled out her smartphone—usually a huge no-no on these trips—and opened up an app that let you look at the stars. As it loaded, Quill kept their eyes locked on the heavenly body.
Was it getting bigger?
Finally Annalise put her phone up to the sky, letting the satellites pinpoint exactly what they were looking at.
“……Nothing,” said Annalise.
“What do you mean ‘nothing,’” said Ben across the circle. “That app uses data from the best satellites available.”
“It’s got nothing,” she continued. “It doesn’t even register that a star is there.” She shoved the phone in front of Quill. “Look.”
The thing in the sky sat between two stars identified on the app—Rigel and Saiph, of the constellation Orion. The app captured those two stars perfectly on its screen. But right where the thing in question should have been on the screen was nothing, just a collection of smaller dots that were decidedly further away than this thing was.
“Hm,” said Vic, coming up behind them. “Well. Never have I ever seen Annalise not be able to identify something in the sky.”
The group shared a laugh at the app’s expense. Annalise put it away, clearly troubled.
“I’m going to bed,” she declared, marching into her tent. The rest of the group concluded that it was a perfect idea and followed suit, putting out their fire and heading off into their respective tents.
In Vic and Quill’s tent, Quill’s mind was on making this weekend last for as long as possible. They pulled their sleeping bag up over their chin, bothered by the cold in both a physical and existential way.
“I mean it about the trip,” said Vic. “We can go wherever you want.”
“Yeah,” was all the response Quill could muster from underneath the down lining of their sleeping bag
Vic took that as his cue to shut up; he gave Quill a final good-night and rolled over onto his side.
Quill was about to drift off to sleep themself when they heard the cricket chirping grind to a halt. The noises of the campground were all missing. The silence outside was complete and uncanny.
“Vic?” whispered Quill, more to find out if they could make sound than anything else.
“Mm?” came the reply from a groggy best friend.
“Do you hear that?”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“That’s the point.”
As if on cue, a bright light began to shine outside of their tent, seeping into their sleeping space and making the two squint and rub their eyes.
“I swear,” shouted Vic loud enough for whoever was outside to hear, “if this is one of your pranks, Ben.”
But as Vic began to recite from the list of swears he knew, Quill was halfway out the tent flap to investigate. A concerned Vic was right behind them.
When the two climbed out of their tent, they were met with their friends all standing outside, staring at the strange vision in front of them. Quill pulled themself onto their feet and shielded their eyes from the light.
Before the group was a large metallic sphere, surrounded by a rotating disc that flashed with light made of all colors of the rainbow. It didn’t whir or hum like machines in real life or in the movies. It was perfectly quiet, and perfectly bright. There were no windows or views of the inside of the machine, but from the bottom of the sphere, a rope ladder dangled.
It wasn’t the most accessible of invitations, but it was an invitation nonetheless.
Quill looked back up at the constellation of Orion in the sky. The unidentified star that once sat at the feet of the hunter was gone.
“Well, if you were looking for an opportunity to leave the country,” remarked Vic behind them.
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