Carlos hung up.
He arrived forty minutes later without Danny.
This time he carried a laptop and a hard plastic case.
Michael let him in.
Bruno greeted him suspiciously.
Carlos sat at the kitchen table.
He opened the computer.
“Before I say anything, I need to explain something.”
Michael sat.
“Okay.”
“Meteorite identification is not based on one test.”
“We looked at elemental composition.”
“Metal ratios.”
“Microscopic structure.”
“Surface characteristics.”
“I also had a colleague independently review two samples.”
Michael’s heart began beating harder.
Carlos turned the screen.
Graphs meant nothing to Michael.
Carlos pointed.
“These have significant iron and nickel.”
“Not unusual by itself.”
“Industrial alloys can do that.”
Then another image.
“But this structure is not consistent with ordinary terrestrial industrial scrap.”
A magnified polished section showed crossing patterns in metallic material.
Carlos continued.
“We also found trace-element ratios strongly consistent with meteoritic iron.”
Michael stared.
“So?”
Carlos smiled.
“So they’re meteorites.”
Michael did not speak.
Carlos waited.
Michael finally looked toward Bruno.
The cat was sitting beneath the table.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“These rocks came from space.”
“Yes.”
Michael stood.
Walked to the boxes.
Then back.
“How?”
“They fell.”
“I understand gravity, Carlos.”
“I mean how are they in an empty lot?”
“That’s the interesting part.”
Carlos opened a map.
“Has anyone reported a meteorite fall around here?”
“Not recently.”
“That doesn’t mean the fall was recent.”
Michael sat again.
“The exterior weathering varies.”
“Some pieces have substantial oxidation.”
“They may have been in the ground a long time.”
“Years.”
“Decades.”
“Possibly longer.”
Michael looked at the boxes.
“Then why is Bruno suddenly finding them?”
Carlos shrugged.
“Construction disturbance.”
“Drainage erosion.”
“Animals digging.”
“Recent grading at the site.”
“Have they been working there?”
Michael remembered.
The abandoned parcel had been surveyed recently.
Piles of soil shifted.
Sections cleared.
“Maybe.”
Carlos nodded.
“That could expose buried fragments.”
Michael asked the question that mattered.
“Are they worth anything?”
Carlos became cautious.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Do not start spending money.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re already calculating.”
Michael was.
Three hundred for Dad.
Rent.
Credit card.
Maybe a car repair.
Carlos continued.
“Meteorite value varies enormously.”
“Type.”
“Condition.”
“Provenance.”
“Size.”
“Scientific significance.”
“Collector demand.”
“These appear to be iron-rich fragments, possibly from one parent mass.”
“They are not automatically worth thousands each.”
Michael’s excitement cooled.
“Okay.”
“But.”
Michael looked up.
Carlos smiled.
“Some are unusually well preserved.”
“If we can document a coherent find location and confirm classification, the collection could have meaningful value.”
“How meaningful?”
“Maybe a few thousand.”
“Maybe tens of thousands.”
“I refuse to guess until we know what you legally own.”