Still disgruntled at the near miss by yet another of the young local kids tooling around on a dirt bike, Dr. Vickers collected the mail from the box out of habit. He made his way into the house muttering a mantra lamenting unsupervised minors making decidedly poor choices. He sorted absentmindedly through the mail, considering writing the city council another letter as soon as he resolved this situation with the young Miss Nash and the unfortunate misunderstanding about the extraterrestrial artifact. If she did have it, as Mr. Englehorn had seemed to imply, Dr. Vickers was certain that she could not begin to understand the scientific import of the artifact and her dangerous involvement, should she try to keep it a secret, or worse, attempt to contact the authorities for a reward. He was certain that, given a few moments to discuss the situation rationally with her, she would undoubtedly understand the potential volatility of the situation. If he could only speak with her, she might agree to allow him to assist her in unveiling the unearthed extraterrestrial artifact.

Dr. Vickers placed the sorted mail on the kitchen countertop, depositing the junk mail to the recycling bin, loosening his tie, and contemplating the aviary in the backyard, his brother’s sanctuary. Once the young Miss Nash agreed to allow him access to the artifact, if only to alleviate his brother’s condition, he could undoubtedly broach the topic of disclosure. Stepping through the sliding glass door to the back patio, Dr. Vickers was greeted by the comforting song of the aviary radio, still playing classical music to the gentle cooing and occasional flutter of wings. Just as he turned back into the house, the radio spiraled off to some disquieting rock station, adjusted itself for clarity, and then got louder. Dr. Vickers rushed back to the aviary, hoping to have caught the intruder, whoever it might be, before they managed to inflict any real damage.

Expecting to find a student engaging in some early summer chicanery, Dr. Vickers burst into the aviary hoping to frighten the fiend into a quick flight. Instead, he found only a very old man sitting slumped in the corner, not in his wheelchair, but in an old mahogany desk chair. He held one tremulous hand out as an invitation, trailing his IVs. A few doves fluttered at his fingertips and the gaunt figure let slip a childish giggle. “Hello, Kenny,” he said, grinning to show a few missing teeth.

Dr. Vickers reached back to set his keys on the aviary workbench, only to drop them to the floor with a loud clatter, startling a few perched doves from the shelves just above.

Rixy lifted his arm, to urge a contented dove from its perch on his wrist. “They're a lot heavier than they look!” He laughed.

Noticing Rixy's opened fist for the first time, Kent hoped that Rixy had simply dropped it absentmindedly upon waking and searched the floor beneath his brother. Having already lost his composure, he became increasingly frantic, and realizing that it might be somewhere in the wheelchair he searched through some moderately soiled blanket.

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Rixy looked on, amused at simply having a body again. He chuckled to see that his little brother had become so very old. “Look at you, Kenny! You got so old!” He glanced down at his hands and arms, inspecting strange, discolored spots and loose chicken skin.

Being trapped in the saucer hadn't been dark, he had been dreaming, sort of, and he did stuff, a lot! But most of the stuff was all cartoons, from memory, the painted landscapes of his favorite desert companions, indelibly written into his subconscious just before he passed into the liminality of the saucer chip. For decades without time, Rixy had existed in a world of his own, accompanied only by birds in flight, the movement of their wings synesthetically translated into his dream.

He also knew a few sentient clouds of color that reacted to his voice but weren't all that much for conversation in general. Most laws of physics hadn't applied to him there, and he'd like to tell his weird colorful cloud friends all about his new old body, but they were all gone, and he was just here, waiting for the final assembly. As such, form and substance were kind of funny to him. He chuckled nervously again, unable to change the matter around him with his thoughts, and hoped it didn't take the pilot too long to activate the ship. Having a body was somewhat troubling. “Whatcha lookin' for, Kenny?” He watched his brother tossing the remaining contents of the chair, nearly frantic. “Did ya lose your keys?”

Kenny didn't answer immediately, reluctant to admit that he needed that piece so badly. He grunted and muttered under his breath. “Where is it, Rixy?”

“Where's what?”

Without looking up, Dr. Vickers recognized a familiar old taunting lilt in his brother's voice, an impish tone that his younger self knew all too well. Unable to prevent himself, he slouched slightly. “Come on, Rixy.”

Rixy glanced around the floor, pretending to help his brother search. “What did ya lose, there, Kenny?”

“Dammit, Rixy!” Dr. Vickers stomped his foot once, surprising even himself. Gathering himself, he tugged lightly at the bottom hem of his waistcoat and adjusted his glasses. “I believe that you were holding something of some importance, and I was wondering if I might have a look at it, Richard.”

Rixy’s smile spread, as cruel and sadistic an older brother as he had ever been. He raised his eyebrows. “What’s the magic word, Kenny?”

Entirely indignant at being goaded into a childish game after over fifty years of catatonia, Dr. Vickers crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. They both well knew exactly what he was looking for, and they were both mature enough to come to a mutually satisfactory arrangement regarding whatever Richard might have had in his hands. Dr. Vickers was more than willing to share credit for the discovery, his older brother’s contribution to the scientific community being strictly ceremonial at best, but worth mentioning. Whatever his older brother’s demands, if he felt that he had some sort of legal ownership claim for fiscal gain, Dr. Vickers was certain that they could agree. As his older brother would not be offering a compromise, Dr. Vickers decided it was beneficial to take the moral high ground and entertain his brother’s insufferable immaturity. “Fine,” Dr. Vickers sighed, “please?”

After an excruciatingly long pause, Rixy smiled. “Nope,” he said. “Guess again.”