The Legacy ~ Part 1

The Legacy ~ Part 1 

   It all began when my estranged grandfather died leaving me his house and its grounds.

We'd not been on speaking terms, for some years, so I was surprised to receive a letter from his solicitors inviting me to the reading of his will.   I remember it vividly, why didn’t I listen to my wife Elaine and tear it up?

"Clive Alexander Perry," intoned the solicitors’ clerk.   I was the only person left in the room yet he peered around with a questing myopic gaze.

"That's me," I said.

 He started reading... "To my indomitable grandson Clive I leave the family estate, which stands in one and one-half acres of private woodlands, and cultivated gardens.   The land and buildings have been under Perry stewardship, for a dozen generations.   I expect Clive will learn to love and cherish it, as I have, continuing a family tradition by becoming its custodian.   Should he choose not to do so, another will be appointed to take on the task.   To this end, I impose the following conditions.   Namely, that 'the custodian' should take up and prove permanent residence, on a daily basis, for a period of not less than three months, prior to taking up stewardship," He paused and peered over his spectacles in my general direction.    

 “Is that quite clear Mr Perry?"  He asked.  So, I nodded, but he continued to wait...

It wasn't exactly Buck house, but it certainly wasn’t a ruin.   The furnishings were serviceable; mostly antique and excellent quality.  Then there were one and a half acres of prime Essex countryside encircled by a forbidding six-foot granite wall; privacy assured.   It would certainly be worth a bob or two I thought.   It seemed I would not come out of this situation too badly after all.   Despite having been a complete ass-hole, to poor old Grandpa Perry, during his later years.  

The silence and his questioning gaze persisted.
"Yes," I said.

"The estate had a book value of £1.2 million at last valuation," the clerk continued.  
"Mmm," my mind was far away, hatching schemes for spending the 1.2 million.

"There will, of course, be inheritance tax, the current rate is 40%," he added.

I nearly choked; the reality of the situation was not as simple as I’d thought.   But, after some quick mental arithmetic, I cheered up.   Yesterday three-quarters of a million was beyond my wildest dreams.   All I had to do was to remain in residence for three months.   Just answer the phone, at 08:30am & midnight, and talk to the solicitors’ clerk.   Simple!

So, what could go wrong?   Well, I hadn't counted on Elaine’s reaction.  

"If you think I'm giving up my comfortable semi to live in that monstrosity for three months you can forget it!   It’s a cold, damp, rat-infested ruin!”

 She’s a little emotional, with a tendency to over-react, but her pronouncement had the ring of finality.   Well, that’s my wife…

 "My career is more important than a rundown estate out in the sticks; I need to be here, close to the city, where I can keep my fingers on the pulse--" she ranted.

"It's only thirty miles fer cry sake and you've never been closer than ten miles..." I interrupted her flow.  But, when her mind’s made up, nothing will budge her.   So I resigned myself to fulfilling the requirements of the legacy; alone.  

I walked outside, "Thank you, Grandpa Perry," I yelled at the sky, assuming he'd headed off in that direction. 

.-…-. 

   I tied up the loose ends in my life a week later by dropping two suitcases inside the main hall and took up official residence.

  Opening the refrigerator, I sniffed gingerly at the milk, expecting the worst.  It smelt and tasted quite fresh.  The bacon, eggs, butter, cheese, and bread were fresh.  Maybe somebody had come in the previous day to restock, a neighbourly act?   As I recall, Perry hadn’t been very neighbourly.  I sat down and ate a hearty breakfast, it was good, so I helped myself to seconds.   Halfway through, I got to thinking about that refrigerator.   The more I thought the stranger it seemed.   It was incredibly large for domestic use; covering a third of the kitchen wall, extending from floor to ceiling, it was more like a bank vault or a hotel deep freeze.  There was no manufacturer’s name, logo, model or serial number on it, but it looked brand new.   Yet I knew for a fact, it had stood in that same spot for as long as I could remember, since before I was born, and I hadn't set foot over the threshold in eight years.   It had a brushed steel finish but did not feel cold to the touch.   On impulse, I took out my pocket knife and attempted to scratch my initials on it - a recessive vandalism gene at work - "so what?"   It would soon be mine anyway but, it resisted my worst efforts.   At this point, my hackles rose.   I was ready to run away.  From a refrigerator, I thought?   If my friends get wind of that I’ll be a laughing stock.  

‘Fight your Dragons’, was dad's favourite saying, so I walked right up to it and opening the door…

   A closer inspection of the contents showed they were quite normal.   They were fresh but, cool to the touch, nothing was actually cold.  There was milk, eggs, bacon, butter, cheese, bread, booze, cash boxes. 
"Cash boxes!?"   
Two of each I observed identical pairs.   I could swear there had only been two bottles of milk, but there were two inside and one-half empty on the kitchen table.   On impulse, I removed one of the cash boxes, surprised to find them there, the box was locked.   I searched the large bunch of keys the solicitor’s clerk had given me.   Sure enough, there was a small key…   
"Yes!” I said, as the box opened.   
My mind went wild at the sight; it was completely stuffed with cash.   Large-denomination notes, new crisp twenties and fifties,   Thirty neat packs (3'x2'x6') still bearing official treasury bands with the words 'Bank of England £1000' printed on them.   I counted each stack, without removing the band, my mouth was dry from licking my fingers, £30,000!   I was suddenly fearful and checked the serial numbers, watermarks, and holograms, this time my pessimism was unfounded, all the notes were genuine.   I recovered slowly and stashed the money in my briefcase.   I'd often dreamed…   But, I would have to spend three months here before I could consider fulfilling dreams.   Best not think about it, I can do patient.   Trembling with excitement, and feeling thirsty, I quaffed the remaining milk straight from the bottle.   It didn't have the desired effect; did I see beer in there? 

 "Yes,” I reached in and grabbed a large amber bottle, then stepped back in shock.   There were still two cash boxes inside.   A quick glance at the kitchen table confirmed, a third identical box sat on the table empty.

   I sat down and stared at it listening to an ancient timepiece ticking away tiny fragments of my life.   I drank the beer slowly and deliberately, it had warmed a little before I binned the empty bottle.   I was determined, not to be intimidated, I would ignore the red tin box on the kitchen table…   As an afterthought, it followed the bottle into the rubbish bin.  I returned to the refrigerator, for the second bottle, and there on the shelf were two!   I removed one and closed the door it wasn't going to spoil my evening.   Next time I looked there were only two bottles left, I ignored them, my math was correct, instead, I took a bottle of Glenfiddich single malt scotch whiskey and went in search of a glass.   “Two minus one equals two,” I recited.

   At some time during the evening, I dozed off.   Just after midnight, I awoke vaguely aware the phone had been ringing for a spell.

"Yes," I said.

"Ah!   I was about to give up on you, just needed to know you are still there, I'll ring again in the morning goodnight," said the solicitor’s clerk.  

 I awoke in time to prepare and eat breakfast before the phone rang.

"Look here," I said, "you can hardly expect me to dash home every evening before midnight just to hear you bid me goodnight, I'm not Cinda-fella you know…"

"haha, very droll!  It was your grandfather’s stipulation."   He answered frostily, "you can stick with it or move on and give somebody else a chance, the choice is yours but, if you fail to comply even once, the legacy is forfeit."

"But, what if I had an accident, and was taken to hospital…"

"Then you would lose everything!   Be there at midnight and at 8:30am for the next ninety-one days,” he said.  

"What would happen to it if I did default?"

"I imagine your grandfather has made a clear stipulation regarding our course of action in such an eventuality.   Next in line would have to meet the same stipulation."

"You have a list?"

"We will speak again tonight," he said and hung up. 

After breakfast, I placed £10,000 in each of three manilla envelopes placing them in my briefcase.   I drove into the centre of Dorriton, and opened accounts for £10,000 each in the two main banks, and £5,000 in the Building Society.  Next, I visited a prestigious local jeweller where I purchased platinum and diamond ear studs and a matching pendant, on sale or return for £4500, subject to my wife's approval.  I ordered a necklet and bracelet, with matching one and a half carat blue diamonds for £15,000 leaving a deposit of £500.   I ate at a local restaurant and bought a new Mercedes car at the local dealership.  I promised to pay cash the following morning, inferring I’d won a large sum on the lottery.   Back home I placed the jewellery in the refrigerator; I’ve decided, from now on, to call it ‘the box’.   Helping myself to a bottle of beer, I settled to watch horse racing on TV.   Later, I took one set of jewels.   I finished my beer and returned the jewellery to the store accepting a cheque for £4,500, which I deposited in one of the banks.   I drew £5,000 from each of my accounts and placed it in the box with a bottle of fine Cognac, noting as I did so there were two jewel cases in 'the box'.   I closed the door; reopened it to remove a bottle of Cognac.  I checked the serial numbers on the two stacks of £10,000, which confirmed my growing suspicion, stack for stack the numbers were identical.  I would have to bank the money in different locations and allow time for the notes to be well circulated; I could therefore not touch the two cash boxes, each containing £30,000 for at least a month.   I settled down to drink my Cognac in front of the TV and was again roused at midnight by my friendly neighbourhood solicitor’s clerk.

To be continued/...

The Legacy ~ Part 2

The Legacy ~ Part 2

  I had hoped Elaine would soften and join me, after a few weeks, even for a few days.   But she adamantly refused to set foot inside the place, and so my lonely monastic existence continued without remission.  

I plotted, planned, and schemed, increasing my stash; it’s harder than you'd think even when your activities are not illegal.   I was neither producing forgeries nor passing off reproductions as being originals.   The duplicates are as authentic as the originals.   When I realised this I began buying and selling things at auction.   Then somewhere around my fortieth day, I heard that a number of rare Victorian cash boxes had been discovered at a local tip, and had been sold on through the local antiques market.   I reasoned it would only be a matter of time before they were traced back to me, so I destroyed and disposed of the two remaining boxes.   I placed their contents in identical plastic bags.   Unfortunately, they were not identical enough; I wound up with four stacks of money, £120,000.  Ok?  I admit it, I started to panic; it was all getting out of hand.  So I purchased an incinerator and burned two stacks, you wouldn't believe how long it takes to burn sixty thousand quid!   Duplicates are bad enough, quadruplicates plus those I had already put into circulation, cash had become far too rich for me.   So, I went back to antiques, a game I’m familiar with.

Several weeks later, a delivery van arrived at the front gates with the rest of my personal belongings.   Not only was Elaine's job too important for her to miss, she'd invited Jerry, a friend from her health club to move in with her.   It was then self-evident that I had neglected her.   So, on Saturday I drove home to surprise her.   Elaine had neglected to tell me that Jerry was a 6ft 6" muscle-bound ape suffering from acute testosterone poisoning.   She was apologetic; she explained that she had needs…

Another week passed and I reached my lowest ebb, I visited the Slater's Arms, where I’d become a regular, for my usual two to three pints in convivial company.

Laura and her friends were out on a hen night.   She was a student at the local polytechnic; her course was applied aromatherapy, physiology and massage.   We started chatting, one thing led to another, so I invited her back for coffee and some hands-on experience…   She came around six or seven times in the next two weeks, that was when I noticed the stash of cash I kept in the top drawer of my dresser was dwindling.   I asked her outright if she’d been helping herself, she didn't deny it.

“But, if you need money, all you have to do is ask,” I said.

"What do you think I am a prostitute?” she yelled, slamming the door behind her as she left.

It was two more lonely weeks before I met Dawn.   She was the proprietor of a select local antique shop.   I purchased a few incomplete and damaged sets of china from her.   I placed the good pieces in the box and smashed the damaged pieces, hey presto I had complete and matching sets.   This effectively doubled their value overnight.   I explained I had contacts in the trade who were happy to acquire pieces for me or purchase the incomplete sets from me.   Within the week she was supplying me with some quite rare singles, and one-offs.   By then, we both knew we had something special going between us but, with women, you’re never really sure if 'the something' is the same for her as it is for you.   She wanted me to go home with her, so I had to explain the stipulations of Perry's will.   She then offered to come home with me instead.   She got up for a drink in the night and found all my priceless china.

"Why do you keep it in there," she asked, curiosity piqued.

"Who would think to look for valuables there?" I asked.   A week later somebody broke-in during the day.   When I returned home the cupboard was bare.   It was then I noticed the shelves were later additions, so if I removed them I could get larger pieces inside.   Such as Tables chairs and motorbikes.   Dear grandpa had some very interesting furniture and it wasn't cheap.   As a precaution I had all the locks changed and installed a sophisticated alarm system, at the suggestion of the local crime prevention officer.   I found several of my stolen pieces at Dawn’s shop, when I confronted her she asked me to leave.   That was when I decided I could make it on my own.   

Ten days to go, and I was coasting, then Laura arrived at my front door in the early hours.   I told her to go away and leave me alone.

"I need your help Clive, It's a matter of life and death!" She sounded distressed so I opened the door.   Laura stumbled in, stoned out of her skull, closely followed by a heavy set 'man-cum-mountain', reminiscent of Jerry.

"Hi babe," she said in a false theatrical voice.   I just looked at her.

"I owe this guy, and I need a loan?"

"Whose he?"

"The names Percival Fitzroy Hammond, Fitz to my friends, you can call me Mr Hammond."

"How much," I asked.   I had already decided to pay him off.

She gave a silly laugh and hesitated, immediately I knew it would be a lot.

"Five K?" she said quickly in a whisper.

"Five thousand?" I said incredulously.   "I don't keep that sort of money in the house, not since you were here last," I said.

"What about your fridge?" she asked.   Her face puckered and tears slid down her cheeks, filling her slightly parted lips.   "He's going to kill me Clive," she whispered, looking so vulnerable.   "You’re my last hope.   Please?” she begged, trembling like a fawn.

"I was burgled, it's empty," I said.

"I ain't got time fer dis shit!   Are you gwina cough up?   Where’s dis box yoo talknabout?"  He yelled producing a telescopic police baton.

"Sit Down!   Chill,” I said with a confidence I didn’t feel.   I emptied my pockets how much do you have," I asked.

"Whas dis," he began.

"You’re in my home, am I likely to run off with the contents of your wallet?   Where would I go," I asked.  

He removed a fat wallet from his inside breast pocket and laid two-fifty on the table,

"Is this a scam?"He eyed me suspiciously, taking a packet of white powder from his jacket and placing it beside the money, on my 'fifties' glass coffee table.

"What's that," I asked.

"Snow," he said.

"What’s it worth?" I asked.

"Wholesale, a thousand."

I picked it up together with the cash, "Coffee or tea?" I asked moving into the kitchen.

"Whiskey!" he answered, "I never allow non-alcoholic beverages to pass my lips."

I returned ten minutes later with five packets of powder, £1,750 in cash, a bottle of Glenfidich, and three glasses.

"This is the best I can do on the fly," I said.

He eyed the powder suspiciously and tested it, "How'd ya do dat," he asked.

I tapped my nose conspiratorially.

"I aksed yo a question!" he snarled.

"I aksed you first," I said, glaring right back at him, with a mean attitude to match.

"It’ll do," he said deliberately, "But, we ain't finish, by a long stretch."   He stood up and they left.

"Thank you sweetheart, I'm forever in your debt," she said kissing me clumsily.

"Just don't come back," I replied, "I don't need this aggravation."   Even as I uttered the words, I knew the flood gates were about to open, just a matter of time I thought.

"He loves me really," I heard Laura tell Fitz, as I reached for the phone.

.-…-.

   Next morning Hammond's face stared back at me from the front page of my newspaper, large as life.    He was dubbed ‘Public Enemy No. 1'.   He had been apprehended the night before carrying two pounds of pure Heroin with a street value of half a million pounds. 

To be continued/...

The Legacy ~ Part 3

The Legacy ~ Part 3

On the morning I received my last phone call from the solicitors informing me that the grounds, house, and contents were officially mine I was barricaded inside; a virtual prisoner.   Every hour or so one or other group of undesirables was at my door, offering incredible sums for the use of my facilities.   At first, I refused, and then I simply disconnected the doorbell.   There were a number of vehicles parked outside my gates.   The gates were now chained and padlocked.  The word was out, that I had something pretty unusual inside.   My police acquaintance who had investigated the break-in had been more than delighted with the tip-off, about Laura's friend Fitz.   So, I called him and asked him how I could contact a government agency.

"It would depend on the nature of your enquiry, which office you will need to reach," He explained.  I told him it was a confidential matter for the highest echelons of security.  He said he would make enquiries and get back to me.

I had thought a lot about the box over the last week.   It was definitely not a refrigerator.    Nothing living could survive inside it, hence the milk and food didn't go off, the germs and bacteria that cause decay were killed off the instant the door was closed.   I had seen a mouse enter whilst the door was ajar, I thought I would capture it and put it outside.  But, in my haste, I managed to shut the door, only for a fraction of a second, when I opened it the mouse was warm and physically unharmed but dead.   I experimented with a goldfish in a glass bowl, closed and opened the door.  So, living creatures are not duplicated.   Of course, I wound up with two globes filled with water, one with a dead fish inside, one without.   But, when I placed the dead fish in the box I got a duplicate.   From then on, the more I thought about it the more certain I became that the box was created by an alien race.   It may have been hundreds, thousands or even millions of years ago.   It had, I knew, always been kept a closely guarded secret by its guardians.   Realising its significance early on they hid it away from the rest of mankind.   Now I had committed the cardinal sin of allowing greedy unscrupulous and selfish people to learn of its existence.   My only hope was to involve the authorities, to talk to people with more than a passing knowledge of such things.   I would seek out people prepared to study it, for the benefit of mankind, without greed or self interest in their hearts.   That was alright for me but, I had made a lot of money out of the box by using it for my own ends.   Suddenly I realised why Perry had been the kind of person he was.   Reviewing my life following his death, I could see that I'd become just like him, and I didn't like that one bit.   My mind was made up--.   The phone rang…

.-…-.

Within hours, the place was sealed off tight.   The grounds and walls reinforced with razor wire, all comings and goings were monitored by special forces.   My first contact was Captain Alastair Sneider of the U51SF (Unit 51 Special Force) assigned to the case, his staff consisted of engineers, bomb disposal, artillery, chemical biological and nuclear specialists, and counterintelligence operatives.   He introduced me to Doctor Emillio Lanning, who had been assigned project leader on the investigation team.

   Doctor Lanning was the epitome of a career scientist.   He walked up to the box and placed his lunch pack inside.   I fully explained everything that had happened; it was as if he couldn't hear me or, I was speaking a foreign language.   He spent an hour trying to identify the metal it was made of, without success.   He insisted on repeating every action himself.   He even acted surprised at finding two lunch packs inside.   Despite having drunk tea brewed from tea, milk and sugar from the box; he refused to eat his lunch.  Instead, he sent it to his lab for testing.   He was quite happy to smoke cigarettes he had duplicated in the interests of science and took a childish delight in duplicating his Arsenal season ticket, which he could have done on any photocopier.   
Without warning, he stepped inside.
"NO!" I shrieked as he closed the door. 

"Bloody fool!" I yelled, "He's committed suicide."   I couldn't believe his stupidity…

I went to bed leaving them to it.  

When I awoke, a team of so-called professionals were busy duplicating the contents of their pockets.

"Who is in charge here now?" I asked.

"Doctor Edmund Davis" somebody replied, "He’s currently speaking with the PM, in the next room.

"Damned stupid of him PM, he was always impetuous, seldom listened to others, he always knew better.   My regards to your charming wife sir…   Goodbye."   
He turned to face me, a smile etched on his wrinkled face, He offered his hand,  "just call me Ed everyone does.   I'm not about to repeat the mistakes of my predecessor, as far as I'm concerned you're the expert in this situation Mr Perry.   After all, you've had three months in which to observe this phenomenon first hand and come up with an educated guess as to what we are dealing with."

"Call me Clive," I said.

"Very well Clive, what is your assessment?" he said putting me on the spot.

"The refrigerator, which is what we have always assumed it was, has been here as long as I can remember.  I inherited the property from my grandfather, and according to his journal this house was actually built around the refrigerator, and has been rebuilt several times.  The house was actually destroyed by fire in 1744, but the box, my preferred description, and its contents were unscathed.   Whatever you put inside is duplicated, the moment the door is closed, but only once, as if to encourage you to put new things inside.   It would seem good sense to put valuable and expensive things inside.   If you've looked you will realise there are innumerable pairs of things inside.   As your colleague has learned nothing living survives when the door is closed, nor will it be copied unless it is first removed and put in as an inanimate object."

"How did you first discover its purpose?" he asked.   
I described briefly the sequence of events that led to my calling on him and his team.

"But, you are almost sure you know what it is.   When were you convinced?" he asked.

I awoke early this morning with a conviction; it is a machine for matter transportation and or duplication.   I believe whoever, or whatever, brought it to earth, let's call them the visitors, intentionally left it for us to find.   They probably seeded many worlds, with the potential to sustain life, with similar devices.   The box always duplicates what is put inside it, and since the handle has to be manipulated that suggests a minimal level of intelligence would be required to open it.   If a signal were sent back to the visitor's homeworld when the door was first opened they now know there is intelligent life here on earth.   It's possible the first person or creature to enter could have done so by accident, a lucky coincidence." I explained.

“So it would require a repeated entry to prove sentience," he added enthusiastically, "do go on."

"The box always duplicates what is put inside.   Primitive creatures seek out safe hiding places where they can store things.   If they also learned they could double their wealth by placing it in the box they would put their most valued possessions inside."

"Thus allowing the visitors to gauge their current level of development," he said.

"Also indicating the speed of their development.   No doubt we learned early that to close the door on a living creature resulted in its death, suggesting reasoning creatures.   It could have been used as a means of execution if we were a bloodthirsty lot.   First time though, it would have happened by accident.   Only stupid or bloodthirsty creatures would repeat that mistake."

"Why do you suppose it happens?" he asked.

"What would be our greatest fear if we were to visit another inhabited world?" I asked.

"Being followed back or bringing back an unknown disease.   I remember reading that thousands of North American Indians died in measles and chickenpox epidemics, after contact with the first Europeans who landed; they had no immunity you see."

"Did you ever read 'War of the Worlds'?"  I asked.   "That is why food does not go bad inside the box, all the bacteria are killed when the door is closed."

"So they are able to keep track of our progress, and we receive duplicates of whatever we place inside, as a reward."

I nodded, "both sides gain from this transaction and if they like what we produce they can replicate it thousands or millions of times for their own consumption but, the transfer of matter seems almost instantaneous--"

"Nothing happens instantly, there is always a small time delay," Ed interrupted my flow.  "It may as you have suggested be a simple duplicator."   

"Simple?"   I said with incredulity.

"Or it may simply be an elaborate hoax," he added.

I smiled and said nothing.

"No, I don't think you would commit murder to preserve a hoax," he grinned.

I shrugged my shoulders and waited.   He was obviously going to make a point.

"It may be a simple duplicator, to those who left it here, but it is designed to be an early warning system.   When our technology reaches a certain level--" he said.
"That's exactly what my predecessors thought. We would potentially be ripe for exploitation or advanced enough to pose a threat to their civilisation," I said.

"Mmm," He showed concern.  "It's vitally important that we know what you've sent them thus far."

I quickly recited the items I had placed in the box, "mostly low tech and antique items.   But, what about your people, they have been here for two days." my voice trailed off as I remembered the items they were stuffing in when I arrived.

"My people?” he said, a surprised look on his face.

"When I arrived they were copying everything in sight mini-disc players, mobile phones, pocket computers, laptops…" I stopped as he rushed past me into what had been my kitchen.

"It's stopped working sir," said one of the technicians.

Ed opened the box, it was empty.   "What was the last thing you put in here?" There was silence.   "Do I need to repeat myself?" he asked.

"A semiautomatic ceramic H&K machine pistol and a thousand rounds of armour piercing ammunition," said one of the security personnel, shuffling his feet.

I shook my head, "I called you clowns in, because this needs handling with finesse, and because it was beyond my experience.  Your like kids in a sweet factory!   You may well have settled the fate of the human race with your stupidity."

There were some angry looks on the faces around me, they may well have taken issue with me but, it was forestalled.

"He's right!   The doomsday clock is already counting down.  This machine has sent a signal home, warning its creators of a potentially dangerous life form in this part of the Galaxy.   It is now just a matter of time before they act.   Our first contact with a new life form could be our last," he said.

I went over and opened the box, it was empty.    I smiled ruefully. "A really intelligent species might have gained so much more from this exchange."
"So true," said Ed.

"They now know everything they need to know about us," I said.

"And we know nothing whatsoever about them," he said. As he spoke a red light started flashing inside the box.

"We have to destroy it before they can send us something lethal," said captain Sneider hyperventilating.   

"Well, that's a damned good idea captain.   So far we have not shown them an act of aggression just a weapon we could use in our own defence.   We have not displayed any form of explosive device, conventional or otherwise.   We already know that biological attack would be useless, I've no doubt they will have an answer to chemical, and any other form of attack you might choose to throw at them."

"So, what do you suggest we do sir?"

"We wait!   They are testing our nerve.   Did you notice the red light begin to flash while we were watching?   I believe the door will now be locked."

I checked and nodded to confirm it.

"Right," said Sneider, his voice now several tones higher.   "Listen up; I want the grounds and buildings vacated immediately."   Half an hour later they began an abortive attempt to move the box.   To this end, the kitchen was demolished and heavy lifting equipment brought in.   When this failed, they tried to remove the ground from under it, to cause it to topple, but it confounded them by remaining in mid-air, two inches above the ground, demonstrating that the laws of gravity did not apply to it.   The door remained firmly shut!

"Shit Shit Shit!" Sneider yelled, displaying signs of panic.

Next came the cutting gear, diamond bits, thermal lances, and laser cannon nothing even marked it, and  Heat dissipated instantly.

  After several failed attempts to dent the box, Sneider totally lost his rag and packed several pounds of Samtex beneath it.   All the windows in my house and the eyebrows of anybody watching above ground disappeared.   But, in a thermal suit watching through tinted glass, I bear witness, the box did not move.

"Seems as though the physical world is unable to affect it," said Ed loud enough for Sneider to hear.  

The man glowered with silent malevolence.   An hour later, the earth shook with heavy vibrations.

"I've ordered up an SPG," he said.

"A what?"   I said.

"Self Propelled Gun," he snarled as if talking to an idiot.

"But, if Samtex won't tarnish it what use is a gun," Ed asked.

"Everybody fall back!   It's as well your house is isolated," he said to me.

"What house," I replied, "you've demolished most of it."

He grinned and spoke to the gun crew, then handed out ear protectors.

Half a mile away the box seemed small; you couldn't even see it was floating above the rubble.

"I hope you're insured for this!" I said.   I had tried reasoning with Sneider, but he was on another planet in a state of bliss.

"Do something!”  I yelled hysterically as the fourth round scored a direct hit and exploded against the distant target, peppering my pile of rubble with shrapnel.   Ed spoke urgently into his cell phone.   Moments later, in a lull between salvos, the ancient field radio burbled into life.

There followed a short, clipped, one-sided conversation, punctuated by static.  

Sneider yelled "Cease fire!  Stand down men, well done."  He favoured us with an angry glare.

"Thank god," I said.

"Despite his ego I am still in charge of this project," said Ed in a calm quiet voice, triumph registered in his eyes. 

Small victory, I thought.

The postman cycled down the street, unperturbed by the ensemble of uniforms lined up behind the six-foot wall.

"You can't come here!"  A sergeant said stepping forward to bar his way.

"Are you impeding the lawful delivery of her majesties mail?" the postman asked.

The sergeant stepped back, and several letters were pushed into a box set in the wall.

"I didn't know that was there," I said.

"It's locked, but you should have at least one key,” the postman smiled.

I pulled out the bunch of keys all that remained of my legacy.

"That’s the one," he said, pointing to a small brass key.   "This reminds me of the Blitz,” he said mounting his trusty steed and pedalling off down the street.

I had not received a single letter in three months now I understood why.   When I opened the postbox a deluge of mail fell out.   There were divorce papers from Elain's solicitor, deeds for the property, a demand from HM Inspector of Taxes, a pile of bills and circulars plus a letter from Grandpa Perry, judging by the ink it was not recent:

"Well Clive, it seems I have been dead for at least three months and you are now the custodian of our ancestral home.   I trust you have grasped the significance of our little secret.   It is not, as you may think, a legacy but a guardianship.   Its purpose was identified many centuries ago by a very astute ancestor.   The guardianship has been passed on through the generations, from father to son.   The instructions for its protection were, of course, passed to you by my solicitor, when you accepted the trust…

I re-read it, a blank look on my face, and then I saw a more recent envelope.   There was a letter in the same hand, but much shakier:

  I chose you as guardian many years ago, when you displayed the qualities required to carry out the duties of the office.   All you are required to do is continue feeding the box with simple meaningless objects, on a regular basis.   Nothing you understand, that would make men out to be a threat to their society.   No weapons, no recent technology.   They must be lulled into thinking we are a simple peaceful backwater society.  

  On no account should you ever allow the authorities to become aware of its existence.  It was decided early on, that they would see it as a threat to the status quo.  They would make indiscriminate use of it then finally try to destroy it.  That course of action would be fatal for us all, as I am sure you will realise.

   It is not an object that can be destroyed.   We have been unable to mark it with acids, tools or any other earthly means.   It is immovably fixed in the same spot it has occupied for thousands, possibly millions, of years we will never know.   It is not of this world, nor of this solar system, but here it will stay until the end of time.   Our only course of action was to build around it, a succession of huts and houses.   Thank you for taking on this burden for the good of humanity.

You’re estranged but loving grandfather:

Charles Augustus Perry

.-…-.

I squeezed my eyes tight shut, in an unsuccessful attempt to stem the flow of tears.   I looked at what had become of his legacy.  remembering all the ancestors who had passed on stewardship, from generation to generation, without wavering.   What would they think?   What had I allowed to happen?  I wiped my eyes and shook my head.   Ed came over, and I handed him the note.

 "Thank you, gentlemen," he said.   "This exercise is over, and you have acquitted yourselves well.   All the terrorists are dead.   Major Sneider, I want that box covered and hidden from public scrutiny,” he whispered.   “This whole episode is covered by the official secrets act, anyone divulging so much as - what they had for breakfast today - will find themselves in solitary for the rest of their natural, do I make myself clear?"  

 He gestured for me to come closer, and made a brief phone call, “Yes sir he’s here.   You want to speak to him?   It’s the PM,” he said handing me the phone.   

 The voice at the other end was immediately recognisable "Let me first say how much we regret the events of the past 24 hrs.   You have my assurances that the house will be rebuilt, if we survive the day, you will receive full compensation for your losses.   The house and grounds will become a listed building, and government property.   You understand we cannot simply walk away from this Mr Perry.   Since its original discovery, your family has grasped its significance and, acted admirably as its unofficial guardians.   We would like you to continue in the role of custodian and remain in residence in perpetuity.   The whole episode will be passed off, officially, as a hoax.   But, I or my successor would expect to be informed immediately of any future developments.”

“So how will I contact you?” I asked.

“You have that phone, keep it charged up, and ring in  from time to time…”

Ends.