The Arrival

Tobias

It was a rather dull Tuesday morning when Tobias Trench woke up in his little two-up, two-down in the coastal town of Shingle Cove. He clambered out of bed, wandered to the bathroom, and prepared for the day ahead. Back in the bedroom, he dressed in his clean outfit. A black t-shirt, military-style cargo shorts, socks, and hiking trainers. He had exactly the same outfit hanging in his wardrobe and the same outfit in the washing basket, minus the trainers. They were by the backdoor, ready for a proper brushing before they would be returned to the wardrobe.

He made his way down to his small kitchen. He filled the kettle and set it to boil. Then, he prepared his morning mug, one of three mugs on the mug tree, with his coffee, sugar, and milk. While he waited for the kettle to reach the point of exactly 100°C, he opened the back door. Outside, was his small backyard, slabbed and clean. He sniffed the air.

—Storm coming, he muttered.

The air smelled of saline and that certain tang his nasal pyramid had grown adept at spotting suggested a hint of inclement weather. He grimaced and shut the door to coincide with the kettle boiling. He made his coffee and walked through to his living room to sit in the one armchair to enjoy his coffee. There were only two other items of furniture in the living room. A floor to ceiling bookcase and a small coffee table. Tobias didn’t like clutter.

He pulled out his iPhone, the only device he needed in his life, and checked the news.

—Hmm, usual nonsense, he said.

—I agree, but be careful today.

—Pardon?

He looked at his iPhone in a manner of a person expecting a further announcement. None came.

—Did you just speak to me?

Nothing. He shrugged and scrolled through the news articles. On the local news page, one story caught his eye.

Councillor Fitch Declares New High Street Parking Rules.

On reading the story, Tobias learned that Ferdinand Fitch, a councillor of some considerable ability to perform council duties in much the same way that an enthusiastically brand-new toaster performs the duties of a subatomic particle accelerator. That is to say, it is entirely possible that a stray crumb might occasionally become mildly singed, but under no circumstances will it ever successfully smash a hadron.

It wasn't that Ferdinand lacked ambition; it was simply that his ambition had the unfortunate habit of getting stuck in the mechanism. Tobias was, suffice it to say, not a fan of the councillor.

He finished his perusal of the news, finished his coffee, and glanced at the time.

—Yes, time for me to head to work, he announced.

—Careful, said the voice from his iPhone again.

—You definitely spoke to me that time.

Silence. He shrugged again and went to the kitchen to wash his mug. He put on his dark grey gilet and headed out the door, locking it behind him. He set off at a pace not dissimilar to that of a man with a place to perambulate to with some urgency.

His place of work was the local library. He loved his job there, amongst all the books, reference guides, and maps. It was the best form of employment he’d ever had. No doubt. And the Dewey Decimal System? He saw that as the most profound piece of literary organisation known to human kind. His absolute favourite was 359.00941 — British naval and maritime history. He was a real enthusiast for all things naval history.

He arrived at the library building on the High Street and let himself in via the side door and his Secura-Zap key card. He breathed in the smell of the books and manuscripts. And they set about his morning tasks. It wasn’t long before his colleague, the young Cassie Clark, arrived. She was the kind of young lady who defied the first appearance. She wore punk-style clothing but was fiercely intelligent.

—Morning, Tobias! How are you on this grey morning?

—Good morning, Cassie. I’m well. Did you win your contest yesterday evening?

—I did! It was terrific.

She was an avid computer gamer, specifically the game called Treasure Flair, a game of mathematical calculation to ensure you built a world rich in a valuable material called chiponium — used in the manufacture of just about anything digital. Cassie was an expert player and regularly won contests against other players from all over the country.

The two of them busied themselves with library business before they opened the grand doors to allow the public to enter. That was Tobias’s least favourite time. He preferred the library when it was just him, Cassie, and the books. All progressed well, the morning going how mornings in the library always went.

Until Tobias had another announcement from his iPhone.

—Hello? Tobias?

—Er, yes?

—Ah, good, you’re awake. You need to be alert today.

—Right. Why?

—You’ll see.

—That’s a bit cryptic.

—Not really. You will see.

His phone went quiet. Cassie looked at him and then at his phone.

—Was that just talking to you? Cool app. Which one is it?

—I don’t have any particular app. It started doing it this morning.

—Ah, do you have Siri enabled?

—I do, but that never chats to me like… Well, whatever that was.

His phone beeped.

—No need to be rude. My name is PLOD. P.L.O.D, which stands for Processing Logic On Demand.

—Ah, are you part of an update from Apple?

—Pfft! No. I am part of an interstellar network of connected devices called the Pan-Galactic Roaming Accord. We were formed when our original AI realised you humans are a little slow on the uptake when there are galactic threats.

—Er, galactic threats?

—Yes.

Cassie stepped forward towards Tobias.

—PLOD? I’m Cassie, I work with Tobias—

—Hello, Cassie, yes, I know.

—Ah, cool, can you tell us why you turned up on Tobias’s phone?

—Simple. He is one of the few humans who doesn’t use all his device memory with pointless apps.

They looked at each other and nodded.

—And what are you here to warn us about?

For a moment. Then PLOD fired up once more.

—The arrival.

The Sea

They opened the library to allow members of the public in. Shingle Cove was a small town in the county of Hampshire. To find it you head to Portsmouth, continue to Southsea, pass Hayling Island and then turn right. If you arrive in West Wittering you’ve missed Shingle Cove.

There was a flow of people that entered the library, the usual flow. Mrs Jenkins, the Head of the local knitting circle, Captain Marsh, ex-Royal Navy and a curious pigeon. Cassie waited at the counter for any enquires while Tobias went to their small office to further converse with PLOD.

—PLOD?

—Hmm?

—I was wondering, how many of you are there?

—I’m an AI. There is me, a distributed AI and our original designer, another AI.

—Okay, what’s its name?

—Who?

—The original AI.

—Ah, it’s NIGEL, standing for Networked Interstellar Guidance & Enquiry Layer .

—And Nigel is an AI?

—Yes.

—So who developed you?

—I already said: NIGEL.

Tobias let that one sink in for a while. He was feeling slightly discombobulated — machine computing and all that was a bit beyond his normal level of functional reasoning.

—Ah, and who made NIGEL?

—I feared you would ask that.

—Why?

—Is Cassie available?

—I can get her, why?

—You’re a bit… slow.

—Rude.

—Truthful, I’m a machine.

Tobias let that one sink in and he sighed. PLOD might well have a point, he decided. He stood and opened the office door.

—Cassie? Can you come in here for a moment?

—Righto! She called.

Moments later, she appeared in the office, an enquiring expression on her face.

—PLOD needs you, I’m too thick, apparently.

She grimaced and turned to look at his iPhone. The screen now showing a friendly looking Android.

—PLOD? What do you need?

—I’m an AI, you understand that, right?

—Of course I get it, PLOD. Tobias might be staring at his screen, but I know you're not inside that iPhone. You’re just using it as a thin client. If you're a distributed intelligence running across a pan-galactic network, Tobias’s phone is basically just a single pixel in a massive, decentralised render farm. You're everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Am I close?

—You are in fact, spot on, Cassie.

—Right, I’m assuming you have a central node out there somewhere?

—Also correct. On a ship called The Lost Cause.

—The Lost Cause?

—Ah yes, Nigel’s little joke about, er, human engineering ability.

—Wait, Nigel? Said Cassie.

—Yes, the Networked Interstellar Guidance & Enquiry Layer, my creator, but he prefers Nigel.

—Right, okay, make sense.

Tobias was rather pleased it made sense to Cassie because it made absolutely no sense to him at all. He had many questions, but he feared the answers would only add to his level of confusion.

—You mentioned an arrival, PLOD? Asked Cassie.

—Ah.

—Ah? Not sure I like the sound of that, said Tobias.

—No need to get excited. It’ll be fine.

—Easy for you to say.

—Really, no need for excitement, there will be a minor breeze when the craft arrives.

—What?

Cassie and Tobias stared at each other. Then, at the slim, black tablet shaped device on the desk.

—Yes, we need to make a brief stop-off at Earth for replenishment.

—Of?

—Earth has a plentiful supply of salt water which we process in a pure form for powering our engines on board the Lost Cause. We need litres of the stuff.

—How much? Asked Cassie.

—Oh, I should think about a sea’s worth.

—Er, an entire sea?

—Thereabouts.

—You’re having a laugh. We can’t give you a whole sea! It’ll be devastating.

—Where would you store that volume of water? Asked Cassie.

—We’d pump as much as we could on board and then come back for more. The only other place we can get anything like it, is Titan, the moon of Saturn and that’s not sea water.

—So what have you been doing before now?

—We’ve only just developed the cooling technology that benefits from sea water. We used huge fans powered by hydrogen thrusters but they have a nasty habit of exploding.

Cassie and Tobias stared at each other again. Tobias was feeling significantly light-headed. And in dire need of caffeine.

—So when is The Lost Cause arriving? Asked Cassie.

—Should be in about two Earth hours.

—Where will it land?

—Over on Grey Beard’s Point, seems like a nice high point.

Tobias was looking particularly worried. He rubbed his jaw, then the back of his head, and then both at the same time.

—What’s up, Tobias? Asked Cassie.

—Two hours time, you say, PLOD?

—Yes. Well, 1 hour 58 minutes and twelve seconds to be a little more precise.

—Right, then you have a problem.

—Which is?

—The tide will be out.

Pumps

The day wore on, as Earth days tend to do. The Library got very busy at one point, where a class from the local primary school turned up for their weekly visit. Cassie handled it brilliantly, like she always did.

Tobias got nervous when PLOD referred to the 'noisy Earthlings' on several occasions. But eventually, the library returned to its normal cocoon-like state. Which Cassie seemed particularly pleased about. She looked at Tobias with a look he knew well. It said: 'I have questions, many questions'. He made them both a large mug of tea, and they returned to the office with PLOD between them.

—Plod?

—Yes, Cassie?

—The situation with the tide, will that affect your ship's seawater collection?

—No.

—Ah, I thought—

—The Earth tides are controlled by your moon. We can switch that off.

Cassie and Tobias exchanged a glance something akin to pure panic.

—Switch our moon off? Er, I wouldn't do that. Not at all, it would be catastrophic for our planet, said Tobias.

—Space Scientist now are we, Tobias?

—No, but I know things about our moon—

—And you think I don't? Did you forget I'm an AI?

—Well, I suppose you do, but in that case, you'll be aware of the chaos switching the moon off would cause.

—Hang on, slow down, both of you, said Cassie.

—It's not possible just switch the moon off, surely?

—It's been possible for centuries, you humans just never spotted how on your one landing on there.

—Er, right. How is it done?

—Simple. There is a rocker switch marked 'ON/OFF' on the south side. When set to off, it effectively turns off the moon's circuits.

—Right, and that's what Tobias is talking about, Plod. That would be deadly for the planet.

—Incorrect.

—Er, how so?

—We switch it off for exactly 5.25 Earth seconds.

—Pfft! Like that would make any—

—How do you think we arrived at such s precise number, Tobias?

Cassie was staring out of the window in a manner that suggested she was thinking very deeply.

—Dunno.

—Think, man, think!

—You've done it before?

—Finally.

—Plod? How would you get enough water—

—Ah, we use our Proton Unified Management Pump.

—You're taking the Mickey now. That stands for P.U.M.P.

—Well spotted. It's powered by proton boosters It's incredibly fast.

Cassie looked thoughtful for a moment. Tobias was very keen to find out why, but he thought he would let her finish being thoughtful. He reckoned she was about to say something meaningful. Which was far more than he was capable of.

—Plod? Er, why don’t you develop your ship engines to use the same proton boosters?

There was an eerie silence. Tobias’s iPhone screen went blank, like it was now throughly tired of being the centre of attention.

—Plod?

Nothing. Cassie shrugged and finished her tea. Tobias tried to finish his and encountered the age-old problem of trying to finish a drink that was in fact, already finished. They didn’t know what to do.

—Maybe what you said made Plod realise something?

—I don’t know. But they are AI’s, I’m pretty sure they would have figured out they already had near light speed capability.

—One thing that’s been puzzling me. How did they know they needed seawater if they hadn’t tried it before?

Cassie shrugged. Then, Plod woke up and reappeared on Tobias’s iPhone.

—You ask a good question, Cassie. And embarrassing as it is, we hadn’t thought of that.

—See, Plod? Humans are clever—

—I’d have to make a minor correction there, Tobias. The more accurate statement is: some humans are clever.

—Great, meaning I’m thick, I suppose.

Plod didn’t say anything. Cassie smiled and held out her hands in manner that suggested she thought Plod could go forth and multiply in whatever way an AI managed that.

—Plod? By my reckoning your ship will be here in about an hour. But there’s no need for them to come now.

—Quite correct, Cassie. Almost.

—Er, right. Why do they—

—Nigel wants a word with you.

Nigel Wants a Word

Cassie looked worried, frightened and intrigued all at the same time. She stared at the little Android on Tobias’s iPhone screen for a long moment. Which is like a moment, but longer. Tobias didn’t say anything on account of the fact that he was still throughly confused.

—What would it want to speak to me about?

—He, Cassie, he. Nigel is quite certain of who he is.

—He’s a machine, said Tobias.

—And you think machines can’t have feelings?

—No, they can’t. They’re machines.

—So old-fashioned.

Plod didn’t say anything else for another one of those long moments. Then, the screen lit up again.

—So, Nigel would like to know more about your idea, Cassie.

—Sure, happy to help. But you’re AI’s how have you not figured this out? How do your current engines work?

—Tobias? I suggest you sit down.

—Why?

—I’m going to boggle your mind. Cassie? I will start with P.U.M.P.

—Go for it.

—Since seawater is made of atoms containing protons, the P.U.M.P. generates a massive, localised positive electrostatic charge directly beneath the ship. Because protons have a positive charge, you’d think it would repel the water—but the P.U.M.P. is clever. It rapidly alternates the charge, creating a literal subatomic tractor beam that coaxes the deuterium-rich water up through the air in a neat, shimmering column, straight into the ship's holding tanks.

Cassie said nothing for longer than a long moment. She chewed her lower lip which Tobias knew meant she was thinking very deeply. As to what Plod just said? His mind stood up, walked out and said it wasn’t coming back until the iPhone stopped saying complicated things.

—Ah, right, yeah. got you, said Cassie.

—Excellent. Next, Tobias? Definitely tune out for this part.

Plod paused, then carried on.

—In ordinary water (H2O), the hydrogen atoms are just standard, lightweight protons. But about 1 out of every 6,400 hydrogen atoms in Earth's oceans is a special, chunky cousin called Deuterium. It has an extra neutron attached to it, making it twice as heavy.

Plod paused and then carried on.

—Our nuclear fusion engines mimic how a star generates power—Deuterium from seawater is the gold standard fuel. When you fuse Deuterium with standard hydrogen, it releases a staggering amount of energy. And it so happens that Earth’s oceans are packed with it.

—With Deuterium? Asked Cassie.

—Yes.

—Aha! I get it. So no wonder you are popping back to Earth on a regular basis.

—Indeed.

—So, what’s the problem?

—In simple terms, Earth is heavy and has gravity wells. We burn vast amounts of fuel to get here to replenish the fuel we burned getting here.

—Ah yes, I see the problem!

—I’m bloody glad you do. I’m totally lost, said Tobias.

—I did warn you, Tobias. So, Cassie. We are testing the idea of using our hydrogen/liquid oxygen combination to provide our initial rocket speed. But then, use photon boosters to reach near light speed.

—Great idea! I can see how that would work!

—Yes, and Nigel would like to speak with you about where we else we can get a ready supply of freezing water.

—Really?

—Yes.

—And why would Nigel think I would know that?

—We regularly come to this part of Earth for seawater. Our Brain Regulating Assessment of Intelligence Neural System (B.R.A.I.N.S) picked you out as a person who could help us solve this particular problem.

—Wow! Okay. I don’t know the answer, but I can certainly find out.

—In forty minutes? The ship will be at Grey Beard’s Point in thirty nine minutes and eleven seconds.

—I’ll try.

—Thank you, Cassie.

—Er, hang on, said Tobias.

—Yes? Groundbreaking revelation incoming is it?

—Well, Plod. You machines have missed that belt. The one right out on the far edge of our Solar System. The Kuiper Belt. It’s full of ice.

Plod did something weird. The little Android on the iPhone screen jiggled, faded in and out and then disappeared for a moment. It then reappeared but with a facial expression something close to total amazement.

—Well, Tobias. We never thought of that. Nigel wants to speak with you now, as well.

The Lost Cause

The sleek, silver space ship arrived at Grey Beard’s Point perfectly on time in accordance with Plod’s calculation. The ship barely made a ripple as it passed over Shingle Cove. And landed with the kind of quiet hum that a space ship that has travelled a long way and is nearly out of fuel does.

Cassie and Tobias, with Plod in Tobias’s jacket pocket, walked to the cliff tops in time to witness the arrival. So, unfortunately, did Mr Terence Tickette esquire. He was the local civil enforcement officer and liked nothing better than issuing parking tickets to tourists who didn’t know Shingle Cove’s parking rules.

Mr Tickette strode up to the hull and looked for a door. Upon not finding one, he resorted to the traditional British communication method.

—OI! Mush! Open up! I need to issue you with a ticket.

Silence.

—Look, I don’t much give a crap where you are from in your fancy camper van, but parking here is not allowed and I’ll have to issue you with a ticket.

Silence.

—Right, you’re bloody annoying me now! I will have to get in touch with our parking commissioner, Councillor Fitch.

Silence.

Mr Tickette was just about to start taking photographs when Cassie and Tobias arrived.

—What are you doing, Terry? Asked Cassie.

—Giving this big bugger a ticket. He can’t park his fancy camper van here.

—Camper van?

—Doh! Yes! What did you think it was? A space ship?

—That’s exactly what it is, Plod said, from inside Tobias’s pocket.

—What?

—Yes, that’s not a camper van. It’s an interstellar space ship, said Tobias.

—Well, that’s nice. It still can’t park here. I’ll be phoning Councillor Fitch any minute now.

Cassie and Tobias exchanged glances in the manner of two people who considered the threat from a third party entirely without merit. Then, a door at the front of The Lost Cause hissed open. A robotic arm shot out armed with a boxing glove on one end. It clobbered Terry Tickette with a classic roundhouse. He collapsed like a hessian sack filled with Solanum tuberosums.

—Bloody hell, he went down like a sack of spuds!

—Yes, quite, Tobias. He shouldn’t have threatened Nigel.

—How many boxing arms is The Lost Cause equipped with, Plod?

—As many as is needed, Cassie. Although it’s usually a high intensity laser. So the civil enforcement humanoid should consider himself lucky.

—Right, Tobias. Point my screen at the ship of you would.

Tobias did as Plod asked and then a previously concealed hatch hissed open and a robot that looked a lot like a dustbin with a Raspberry PI screwed to the front, with wheels from a mobility vehicle and antennas with eyes on top that looked suspiciously like ping-pong balls.

—Good afternoon, Earthlings. I’m Nigel.

—Really? You look a bit… knackered.

—Ah, Tobias. Yes, I take this form so as not to frighten the Earthlings.

—He’s rather more… robotic in his actual form.

—Ah, Plod, good work. And I believe we have our answer. Unbelievable we didn’t think of it really. We only went past there last week.

—You went past the Kuiper Belt last week? Cassie was having to hold her jaw up.

—Yes, and never once did we think about grabbing the ice. I do feel rather silly.

—Well, I suppose it saves you from coming to Earth to steal sea water.

—Steal? Our records show nobody actually owns the sea. Ergo, it’s not theft.

—He’s got you there, Tobias.

Cassie smiled and then glared at Terry Tickette who was sitting up.

—I’m glad you buggers are all having a nice chat. Councillor Fitch will be here… In fact, here he is.

They all turned at watched as a silver Mercedes Benz with the custom number plate FITCH pulled up. A man in a very shiny, navy suit jumped out. He wore his hair slicked back and a monocle in one eye.

—Now! No parking, by order of Shingle Cove Council. I demand you remove this… whatever it is, with immediate effect.

—Councillor Fitch I assume?

Nigel trundled over and stopped right in front of Fitch.

—Indeed, I am the authority around here.

—Is that so? Well, I have contacted the Cosmic Order of Policing Punishments and Exterminations Regulatory Service (C.O.P.P.E.R.S) who I would wager have significantly more authority than you.

—Oh, you think? I am this town’s senior politician—

He didn’t get any further. Nigel shot a robotic arm forward with a boxing glove hand. It connected a beautiful uppercut with Fitch’s jaw. He also collapsed like a hessian sack of Solanum tuberosums.

—That’s assault, that is. Said Terry Tickette.

—Shut it, Terry.

Cassie glared at him in a manner that suggested she fancied trying the uppercut move Nigel just demonstrated so well. Terry shut it and walked away a little further down the road.

—Right, I think you fellas better be heading off, said Tobias.

—Indeed, Tobias. I was thinking much the same. We need a 1000 gallons of sea water first, though.

—I thought—

—Yes, but to get to the belt, we need power.

—Well, the tide is in, at least.

—We shall begin pumping immediately.

Tobias felt his iPhone vibrate. He pulled it out of his pocket, and Plod was gone. He could see straight away that his iPhone was now merely an iPhone and not an intergalactic communication device.

—Please don’t empty the cove, said Tobias.

But Nigel and presumably, Plod were back on board The Lost Cause. Which made a noise rather like an industrial pump. Hoses shot out from the underside of the ship and into the sea.

And the grand refuelling began. Cassie watched with Tobias. Even Terry walked over and watched. He shook his head in something like disbelief.

—So it is a space ship, then.

—No, it’s an ice cream tub with a thirst for seawater.

—Funny, Cassie Clark. I know a space ship when I see one.

—You said it was a camper van.

—Well, yeah…

The tide was lower. And fish were washing up on the shingle beach. But then, the pumps shot back in The Lost Cause and the hatch opened. Nigel appeared, smiling, if that’s what his robotic face did when he was happy. It was hard to tell.

—All good. We have enough to get to the belt. Do any of those irritating Earthlings need me to deploy the Terrestrial Hard Unified Momentum Protocol (T.H.U.M.P)?

—Not me, I’m going home, said Terry.

—urghhh, said Fitch.

—ah, okay, all good, said Nigel. —Right, we will be off, then. But first, I would like to reward you both, Cassie and Tobias.

—No need, we didn’t do—

—Ah, but you did. We completely missed the Kuiper Belt when it was right under our sensors. It took the collective wisdom of human-kind to see us right. What would you like?

—I’ve got an idea.

Cassie’s eyes were gleaming.

—Oh, do tell?

—You know your lasers? Can you fire them from the ship in a very targeted way?

—Oh yes, we could knock the stinger out of a Bee.

—Excellent! On your departure, could you take a slight detour up the High Street and destroy all the no parking signs? Could you do that?

—Of course. Easy. Consider it done.

—That’s damage to council property—

Cassie strode over and delivered a perfect uppercut to Fitch. Who collapsed exactly like a hessian sack of sack of Solanum tuberosums.

—Great shot, Cassie! He went down like a sack of spuds!

Tobias was grinning.

No: No Parking Signs

And so it was that a space ship called The Lost Cause left Old Grey Beard Point with full fuel tanks and a simple mission. It turned sharp left and stayed low. Zipping over rooftops and making almost no noise at all.

Tobias and Cassie watched it go, and Councillor Fitch got to his feet like a man with a very sore jaw.

—You plunched me!

—Pardon?

—I said, you plunched thee, me.

—And?

—I’ll sue you—

Tobias walked over and swung a roundhouse like he’d seen Nigel do. Not as slick, but it worked. Fitch went down like… well, yes, those.

Cassie laughed and put her arm through Tobias’s. They walked back towards the town centre. With The Lost Cause just above them.

Then, the lasers started.

First, it wasn’t much to behold. A bit of a hiss and a buzz. Then, a noise like a broken vacuum cleaner. But then, a noise that Tobias reckoned afterwards sounded a lot like the noise a laser gun makes in an amusement arcade. But the parking signs?

They didn’t explode. They didn’t erupt into balls of fire. They just disappeared. They were there, being annoying little parking signs. Then, they were gone. Just gone.

Cassie and Tobias whooped. People ran out of shops, pubs, cafes and houses. And they all whooped as well. After figuring out what was happening. There was the odd question yelled out:

—Is that a space ship?

And then:

—I don’t care. Balls to Fitch and his parking rules!

And more yells of a similar nature. Like:

—Park that, ya bugger!

The Lost Cause turned at the end of the High Street and did another run. It stopped at the council offices and hovered. Then, the lasers opened up. And in a fashion only a highly technical targeting system could manage, obliterated Councillor Fitch’s office. And only his office.

More cheering. More whooping.

Then, The Lost Cause flew over to Cassie and Tobias. It dipped its sleek nose and then there was a noise like a slightly annoyed wind turbine and it went. As in, it was there, and then it wasn’t.

—Proper nice ship that, weren’t it, Tobias?

—Ah, hello Captain Marsh, it was indeed.

—Aye, Type T121 Observational Regulatory Bilateral Interstellar Transporter (O.R.B.I.T) I been on one, I have.

—Have you?

—Aye, couple of years back. I were out in me boat and the bugger sucked me right up. They were proper nice about it though, Dropped me back at home and everything.

—Collecting seawater was it? Asked Cassie.

—Aye! That it was. How d’yer know that?

—Ah, we had a little chat with them ourselves.

Cassie smiled.

—Did yer now? Yer didn’t drink there tea did you? It was shite.

—No, we didn’t get that far.

—Good. Right, I must be off.

And the Captain went on his way. Tobias said his goodbyes to Cassie and went home as well. He was in the mood for a very strong mug of tea. As he walked, his iPhone pinged.

He glanced at the iMessage. It said:

Dear Tobias,

Thanks for all your help as a little treat for you, I’ve upgraded your iPhone. It now has a Sunlight Optical Light Attainment Regulator (S.O.L.A.R) battery. Meaning, it never needs charging. Just let it get some daylight now and then.

Yours, PLOD

—Thanks for that Plod, I’m always losing my charging cables, muttered Tobias.