Prologue: The One from Space

1957. The sky's but a splotch of dark navy blue splattered across the heavens. Clouds cover every inch of the atmospheric dome, the sun and moon but distant points far in outer space. But something - suddenly, something! - streaks across this dreary landscape. A bright, flaming ball of unrelenting light, a sense of energy that refuses to yield. Nowhere near craggy or small enough to be a meteor, but too small to be anything man-made. Of course, everyone saw something different. Some say they saw nothing but a glint in their eye, a trick played on them by a sun yet to come out to play. Others would describe it as little more than a shooting star seen far off in the distance. But among the dozens of deniers and disbelievers, there are always a few who do the contrary. Who believe. And they would tell you that someone, something, emerged from the polished stone as it screamed across the sky. They would tell you that when the stone hit the ground, it left neither a mark nor remains. That it simply exploded in a sad, pathetic little fizz on the ground. They would tell you that the fireball of 1957 was special. And for once, they would be right.
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