THE LONG WAY AROUND

PRESQUE ISLE, MICHIGAN 

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Burnham’s Landing
PRESQUE ISLE, MICHIGAN
NAMED AFTER THE HISTORIC SITE
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A football game drones on from the television mounted above the bar.

Three men nurse cheap beer while a bartender wipes down glasses.

> TV ANNOUNCER
"...another disappointing afternoon for the Lions..."
> BARTENDER
Turn that thing off.

Nobody moves.

> BARTENDER
I don't wanna hear about it anymore.

One of the regulars reaches up with the remote. The television clicks off.

> BARTENDER
Fuckin' Bengals.
> MAN #1
Could've been worse.
> BARTENDER
How?
> MAN #1
Could've bet on them.

A couple quiet chuckles ripple across the bar.

The front door opens. Cold air rolls inside.

A man in a hunting jacket shakes the rain from his cap before taking a stool.

> BARTENDER
Evening, Hank.

The bartender slides him his usual before he even asks.

> BARTENDER
On the house if you can tell me something that'll make me forget today's game.

Hank shrugs, nothing he can think of.

> HANK
Can't help ya there.

He takes a sip. Silence fills the room again.

> MAN #2
Heard about that satellite yet?
> BARTENDER
What satellite?
> MAN #2
That Blue Oyster thing. Been hearing about it all week.
> BARTENDER
Thought that was just a hoax.
> MAN #1
Fuck if I know man.

Another patron, who'd been quietly eating peanuts, joins in.

> MAN #3
My nephew's in college.
> MAN #3
Seeing if it lines up with when folks hear from it.
> MAN #3
Says there's people online tracking where the damn thing's supposed to be.
> MAN #2
Yeah, yeah!
> MAN #2
My grandson keeps telling me it's real.
> BARTENDER
People have got too much damn time.
> MAN #2
Still...
> MAN #2
Wouldn't it be somethin' if it was real?
> BARTENDER
Wouldn't hold my breath.
> MAN #1
My wife's been nagging me about it too.
> MAN #1
Like im the satellite expert.

A few laughs. Hank finishes half his glass before speaking.

> HANK
Friend of mine talked to it.

PAUSE. PAUSE.

> BARTENDER
BULLSHIT.

Hank shrugs, looking at the others.

> HANK
If I keep going, will my drink be on the house?

The bartender snorts.

> BARTENDER
Sure as shit.

Hank raises his glass.

> HANK
'Cause I ain't payin' eight bucks to repeat a story you won't believe anyway.

A few chuckles.

> MAN #2
Go on then.
> HANK
Friend's name is Mathias.
> HANK
Lives by himself out near Barrie, Canadian fella.
> HANK
Keeps mostly to himself. Spends most nights screwin' around with old packet radio equipment.
> MAN #1
Ham radio guy?
> HANK
Something like that, yeah.
> HANK
Spent his day on this radio-freak forum. Says he was just about to log off.
> HANK
Then someone joins.
> MAN #2
Then someone joins?
> HANK
Yeah, it was like midnight.
> HANK
And they start talking, thing keeps spewing out buzzwords acting like its mission control.
> HANK
Mathias figured it was somebody screwin' around.
> HANK
Asked where he was from.
> HANK
Thing answers, Current position unavailable.
> BARTENDER
That's creepy as hell.
> HANK
Gets weirder. Every answer sounded like it came outta some government manual.
> HANK
"Negative", "Clarify”, "Mission designation."
> MAN #3
Maybe some autistic kid.
> HANK
He figures its some, military-nut.
> HANK
Then he asked what it was.
> MAN #2
Lemme guess.
> HANK
"Earth Observation Probe Blue Oyster."

Brief silence.

> MAN #1
That's the satellite.
> HANK
Right.
> HANK
Mathias thought somebody was pullin' his leg.
> BARTENDER
I'd think the same.
> HANK
So he starts asking questions nobody pretending would've thought about answering.
> MAN #2
Like what?
> HANK
Stuff about its mission, designation, about earth.
> HANK
About why it'd gone quiet.
> HANK
Says it answered every one.
> HANK
Says it doesn't know why it malfunctioned.
> BARTENDER
And he believed it?
> HANK
Fuck no.
> HANK
Not at first, at least. Nobody did. Hell, a lotta people still don't.
> HANK
Then the thing leaves. Says it'll reacquire the link later.
> HANK
Next morning, Mathias wakes up and finds out it'd talked to somebody else.
> MAN #2
Same forum?
> HANK
Different one. Couple hundred miles east.
> HANK
Then the news does a report on it.
> HANK
Then another report comes in.
> HANK
And another, from some guy in Algonquin Park.
> HANK
Folks started comparing timestamps, comparing where people were and when they heard it.
> HANK
And it all lines up as it should.
> BARTENDER
Lined up how?
> HANK
Like something moving.
> HANK
First one was up near Port Clinton. Then Lake Simcoe. Then Algonquin. Hours apart but they line up.
> MAN #2
Could still be some guy drivin'.
> MAN #1
Yeah.
> HANK
Through Canada? These days?

A few of the men exchange glances.

> HANK
Half those towns barely got a connection anymore.
> HANK
Some of 'em aren't even on the same networks we use.
> MAN #2
Maybe there was more than one guy.
> HANK
That's what folks said.
> HANK
But then again, connectivity issues, coordination . . it's one hell of a lot of work just to say hello.
> MAN #3
So what, everybody believes it now?
> HANK
Hell no.
> HANK
Some think it's real, the other half says somebody's running the longest practical joke in history.
> BARTENDER
Which side're you on?

Hank looks into his beer for a moment.

> HANK
I don't know.
> HANK
Doesn't matter anyway.
> BARTENDER
How come?
> HANK
Because tomorrow people are gonna wait for it either way.
> HANK
Last I saw, it's headed over Newfoundland then the Atlantic.
> HANK
Should be a while before it comes back around.
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