“I have no idea.”
“Twenty?”
“Maybe.”
Carlos looked genuinely distressed.
Michael frowned.
“They’re rocks.”
Carlos stood.
“Maybe.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because visual identification is not enough.”
“Enough for what?”
Carlos took off his glasses.
He cleaned them with his shirt.
Then put them back.
“I think these may be meteorite fragments.”
Michael stared.
Danny stopped smiling.
“What?”
Carlos lifted one sample.
“I said may.”
“I need laboratory tests.”
Michael laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the alternative was taking him seriously.
“From space?”
“Yes.”
“Bruno is bringing me space rocks.”
“That is currently a possible explanation.”
Michael looked at the cat.
Bruno licked one paw.
“That sounds ridiculous.”
Carlos nodded.
“It does.”
“Which is why I need to test them.”
“What makes you think meteorite?”
Carlos pointed.
“High density.”
“Strong magnetism.”
“Possible fusion crust remnants.”
“These shallow depressions could be regmaglypts.”
Michael stared.
“English.”
“The surface may have melted during atmospheric entry.”
Carlos rotated the piece.
“And some exposed metal here looks consistent with iron-nickel material.”
“Could it be industrial scrap?”
“Yes.”
“Which is why I’m not telling you it’s definitely extraterrestrial.”
Danny said:
“You kind of already did.”
“I said may.”
Michael rubbed his face.
“What happens now?”
Carlos looked toward the boxes.
“I take a few representative samples.”
“Document exactly which ones.”
“Run non-destructive analysis first.”
“If those results support it, we cut a very small section from one sample with your permission.”
“Then microscopy.”
“Nickel content.”
“Trace elements.”
“Structure.”
“How long?”
“Three days for preliminary.”
“Longer for certainty.”
Michael looked at the rocks.
Then Bruno.
“All right.”
Carlos chose six pieces.
Photographed each.
Weighed each.
Placed them separately in labeled bags.
Before leaving, he turned back.
“Do not throw anything away.”
Michael laughed.
“Bruno will stop me.”
The next three days became irritatingly slow.
Michael worked.
Bruno brought more pieces.
Michael checked the tracker.
Same industrial parcel.
He started looking at the boxes differently.
Not treasure.
Not yet.
But maybe not trash.
On the second night, Michael washed one carefully with plain water.
Carlos had specifically told him not to scrub.
Mud rinsed away.
The surface beneath was dark.
Dense.
Metallic in spots.
Michael felt something shift in his imagination.
He immediately stopped.
“Don’t get stupid.”
Bruno sat beside him.
“If these are worth fifty bucks, I’m buying you expensive food.”
Bruno meowed.
“Hundred?”
Another meow.
“Greedy.”
Carlos called on the third evening.
“Are you home?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming over.”
Michael’s stomach tightened.
“Good or bad?”
“I’m bringing the data.”
“That did not answer anything.”