Unexpected Turns: Forgotten Words
their way down through the fog.
The probe listened and recorded. It filled its memory banks and converted everything to code. It was almost ready to go.
Three weeks later a helicopter thumped its way up the side of the mountain. It swept across the precipices and rolled over the sharp, knife-edges of black jutting rocks. The pilot searched for the place he had been told of and turned for another sweep.
"There it is!" the passenger said. He pointed.
"I can't land there," the pilot said.
"I'll go down on a rope."
The helicopter swung round and began to hover. Its black blades kicked up a flurry of new-fallen snow as a rope began to extend from its belly. The passenger clung to the rope until it touched the snow, then he jumped off.
"What do you make of it?" the pilot yelled.
"Can't tell yet!" said the man on the snow, "Never seen one like this before."
"Is it one of ours?"
"No."
"Any chance of us pulling it out?"
"We'll give it a try. Give us half an hour."
The helicopter cruised away and hovered about, looking for a place to land.
"Come on baby," the man said, as he chipped at the snow.
The probe began to come into view again. First it's long, silvery mast, then its body. The man dug the whole pentagonal shape out and stood back, breathing hard. He was more puzzled now than when he had started.
"What the heck are you?" he said, renewing his digging.
The helicopter returned and waited. The man attached a rope to the probe and snapped the clips together, then he waved to the pilot to take it away. The helicopter struggled to pull the weight out of the snow, but with a final wrench the probe rose into the air.
