The Hunt

Mark stargazed in his backyard through his telescope on a clear night.

A shooting star blazed across the sky, swirled, and brilliantly exploded in a flash.

"What the heck?"

Mark logged into an amateur astronomy forum and reported it. His fellow enthusiasts confirmed the strange phenomena.

— — — —

Days later ...

Mark rechecked the forum. Official reports stated a meteorite fell to Earth, explaining the strange trajectory and flash as 'atmospheric anomalies.'

The forum members gave no further replies.

— — — —

Around midnight, on a Saturday, Mark heard a clamoring outside. His wife, Jane, remained sound asleep. He looked out a bedroom window—a new tenant moved in across the street.

"At this hour?" Mark grumbled.

"Mark, honey, I'm trying to sleep," said Jane.

"Me too. Some idiot is moving in very late at night."

"Oh, Mark." Jane got up and closed the blinds. "Go back to sleep."

Mark and Jane woke up at 6 am. He peeked through the window blinds. Across the street, piles of junk covered the entire rental property front yard with beat-up cars on the driveway.

"Mark, come and eat breakfast."

"Looks like we got a hoarder, Jane." He sat down.

"Oh, Mark, please don't obsess again. Every time there's a new tenant, you find something to complain about, giving me a headache." Jane rubbed her temples.

"Sorry, dear."

— — — —

Day and night, the new tenant worked in their garage, sawing, hammering, drilling, and welding every day of the week. Mark wrote to the city code enforcement office, without telling Jane, complaining about non-permitted construction, but no one showed up, or at least nothing changed.

— — — —

One morning, as Mark walked his dog, Lyla, he encountered his elderly next-door neighbor Fred, a retired electrical engineer, sitting on his porch swing.

"Mark! How are you? Oh, hi there, Lyla."

Lyla walked up to the porch and sniffed Fred's hands.

"Good girl." Fred petted her on the head. "How're you doing?"

"Okay, except ..." Mark frowned, glancing at the tenant's garage.

"Bothers me too." Fred shrugged. "But it's only for a year."

"Do you think something illegal is going on there, Fred?"

"I dunno, Mark. There's always that one that arrives in every neighborhood. We got unlucky this time. Probably a tinkerer or hobbyist."

"Right, let's just keep an eye out if anything strange happens."

"Sounds good, Mark."

— — — —

On another crystal clear night, Mark stargazed with his telescope and saw the meteor phenomena again, but instead of one, it separated into ten with no explosion.

He refreshed the forum. No one mentioned anything.

"Real UFOs?"

Mark returned outside.

Brightly lit flying saucers spun around in a tight circular formation.

He ran back inside and watched through the bedroom windows. The saucers hovered over the tenant's house and emitted blinding rays of light.

Meanwhile, on the street, several black cars with tinted windows drove up and parked.

The tenant's illuminated figure came out of the garage, holding a rifle and firing lasers at the saucers. The saucers' light rays vaporized the tenant's cars and junk and cleared out the garage.

Instantly, the saucers popped up into the sky through the atmosphere.

The black cars sped off ...

Mark stepped outside and saw Fred standing on the sidewalk.

"Fred, did you see that?"

"Yes, Mark. It was like something out of an old 50s sci-fi film. What in the heck happened? Let's go check it out."

"Fred, is that safe? What if ..."

Fred showed his holstered gun. "Don't worry."

Mark and Fred checked out the rental property’s front yard and garage—spotless.

"You know, Mark, I also worked as a government agent, not just an engineer. This tenant must've hidden something. I know, because I would've."

They checked everywhere inside the garage.

"Wait, Mark. I've got an idea." Fred closed the garage door and turned on the light. "Ah, ha. Just like I would. Could you give me a boost? I need to punch the ceiling."

Fred punched the ceiling while Mark lifted his foot—the drywall crumbled, and out came several blueprints with charts.

"Just as I thought, Mark. Let's roll these out. They look universal, so even I can understand them."

Fred laid the blueprints and charts on the garage floor. "Oh, this is interesting."

"What are you seeing, Fred?"

"Well, Mark, on these star charts, there's a corresponding symbol. Here's Earth. And check out this blueprint of a chamber, all the parts have symbols indicating various star systems as potential resources."

"What's the chamber supposed to do, Fred?"

"Let me see." Fred pulled out his phone, researched some articles, made calculations, and stepped back. "Wow. If this means what I think it means ..."

"Tell me, Fred. What's your theory?"

"It's hard to believe." Fred pointed at the wireframe. "It's a molecular assembly chamber. It constructs matter using energy after it captures a holographic image. Check out these corresponding symbols on these star charts. This thing requires collecting resources all over the galaxy, including right here."

"A replication device?" Asked Mark.

"Indeed. That would explain the hunt."

"The hunt?" Mark raised an eyebrow.

"Just a thought experiment." Fred laughed. "One of the questions my colleagues and I often mused over during breaks. What could you engineer that'd be so dangerous to cause everyone on Earth, or, in this case, the galaxy, to hunt you down and stop you?"

"Oh, I see. But, Fred, how would this be dangerous?"

"You sound like my old boss, Bob Cartwright, the optimist." Fred chuckled. "Thinking something like this would be embraced by everyone. But you forget about greed and power. Those who make a living off manufacturing and selling things would do anything to stop it."

"Oh, I get it." Mark smiled. "There's no profit in post-scarcity."

"Exactly." Fred nodded.

Mark pointed at another blueprint. "Fred, check this one out, it's a poorly hand-drawn saucer."

"Let me see." Fred's eyes widened. "Oh my ..."

"What is it?" Mark examined the blueprint closer.

"Mark, see here, all the parts share in common one resource symbol—Earth."