The Meteor Problem (4)

It was a tense journey to the Antarctic, as I was sharing a boat with the great rivals Aaron and Alun Davies, who both claimed full rights to the golden meteor they had jointly discovered, and the UN official who was also claiming the meteor on behalf of the UN anti-poverty fund (with which he was planning to purchase a great big yacht).

 

I had done my best to mend the rift between the Alun and Aaron, by subtly moving their deckchairs closer together over the course of the journey, and equally subtly shifting the conversation to the UN official, who both hated with a passion. I made some progress, as by the time we docked they were able stand nearly two chevrons apart without breaking into a fight. All I had to do now was move the chevrons closer together.

 

As we disembarked, the captain helpfully directed us towards the next scene.

 

“Tourists wanting to gape haplessly at penguins follow the guide to the right, main characters here to witness the landing of the golden meteor, follow the signage to the left.”

 

Though the meteor was not due to land for another twelve hours, the location of the meteor’s landing had long been a tourist destination, the original Jules Verne story having been written over a century ago. Indeed, the site was much worn away by the hundreds and thousands of Jules Verne fans who had been there over the decades. A nearby giftshop sold the full range of ‘I saw the landing site of the Jules Verne golden meteor’ merchandise, from mugs and tea towels to commemorative spoons and T-shirts.

 

The meteor wasn’t due to land until the early hours of the next morning, so we booked rooms at the Golden Meteor Hotel.   

 

The next morning I was woken early, by a hammering on my door. It was Alun and Aaron Davies.

 

“What on Earth is it?” I asked. “It’s barely four O’clock, the meteor isn’t due to land for another two hours.”

 

“Yes Jed,” Alun said, “But we’re several miles from the actual landing site, we need to set off now if we’re going to be first to see it.”

 

“We need to be there before ‘HIM’” said Aaron. “He’ll try and claim it for the UN.”

 

Aaron and Alun seemed to have formed a strange alliance. They spoke not one word to each other, nor so much as looked at each other, yet they had visited me together and were on a joint quest to be first to see the meteor. Their mutual hatred of the UN official had clearly thawed the rift between them.

 

It was a three mile walk from the Golden Meteor Hotel to the actual landing site. The meteor, when it landed, would leave a massive crater, with the aftershock liable to destroy any building within a two mile radius. Sometimes it’s better to stay at hotels that aren’t too close to the tourist site.

 

We arrived in time to see the meteor land, a burning ball of fire blazing through the sky, like a shooting star, only bigger, and burning its way through the Earth’s atmosphere like a moon on fire. Imagine every firework display you’ll see in a lifetime combined into one amazing, furious blaze of wonder.

 

The meteor landed with a bang louder than any explosion I’ve ever heard and the impact was so fierce Alun, Aaron and myself were literally thrown up in the air like so many small boys being tossed around by wanton gods making small boy salad.

 

“Don’t go near,” Alun warned, as I staggered to my feet.

 

“The meteor’s hot enough to melt lead,” Aaron added.

 

“But when it cools,” Alun said.

“It’s ours. Our gold,” Aaron added.

 

“Enough riches to buy Canada,” Alun said.

 

“Not that we’d want to buy Canada,” Aaron added.

 

I decided not to disillusion their dream by mentioning the UN official and international law, which would mean that neither of them would get so much as a penny of immense riches that had just appeared from the heavens.

 

We sat and waited for the meteor to cool sufficiently for Aaron and Alun to claim their gold. It would take approximately two months. A long time, you might think, but neither of them had anything better to do and one of the marvels of the short story is that a two month period can pass in the matter of a few lines if nothing is happening. It’s why the written story will outlive reality TV.

 

However, it was not to be.  The wear and tear of millions of Jules Verne tourists to the crash site over the past century had weakened the structure of the cliff on which the meteor was perched. Combined with the sudden impact of a giant, golden meteor blasting into it at immense speed it proved too much for the fragile earth, and a great rip suddenly tour through the cliff.

“Run,” said Aaron and Alun simultaneously.

 

We turned and ran, somehow managing to escape to safety before the entire cliff collapsed into the raging, icy sea below.

 

“Oh well, at least we’ll be able to fish the golden meteor out of the sea,” Alun said.

“Yes, and the meteor will cool quicker in icy cold waters, we won’t have to wait around quite so long.”

 

Alas, this prediction also proved false. For below us, the ocean suddenly exploded. The fiery heat of the meteor had reacted with the icy chill of the Antarctic ocean, causing the meteor to explode, and thereby spreading the gold across miles and miles of isolated sea.

 

“We’ll never be able to extract it now,” Alun said. “It’s been blasted into smithereens.”

 

“Somewhere in that ocean are the richest fish you’ve ever seen, though what good that gold will do for them I don’t know,” Aaron added, philosophically.

 

As we pondered the problems of aquatic wealth and watched the final traces of the golden meteor disappearing forever into the oblivion of the sea, we heard footsteps behind us. It was the UN official.

“Have I missed anything?” he asked. “Only I was having a bit of a lie-in. Has it landed yet?”

 

I handed him the first draft of this chapter so that he could catch up on the events he had missed, while Alun and Aaron stood staring sadly out to sea, contemplating what might have been.

 

After a very long while Alun and Aaron turned, linked arms and begun to walk back towards the dock.

 

“Oh well, that’s that adventure over,” Alun said.

“Yes, we must hurry back to our telescopes. We wouldn’t want to miss the next meteor.”