Thirteen-point-eight billion years ago, the universe existed as an infinitely small, infinitely hot and infinitely prevailing singularity. According to modern cosmetology, the universe thereby expanded in a massive explosion which inflated the infinite singularity to what which presently exists as the universe, or the cosmos that we know of today. The theory which elucidates the process of universal expansion is what’s now known as the big bang theory, introduced as an expansion model by the Belgian scientist-slash-priest Lemaitre in 1927. According to him, the universe is constantly expanding. Galaxies move away from one another, the space of light years between planets and galactic objects constantly increase. The universe today is never the universe tomorrow. Though one cannot certainly notice a significant change by observing the night sky with eyes, it is wrong to say that universe hasn’t, indeed changed.

Regardless, whatever the cosmetologists would say, Kim Sung Gyu’s universe definitely hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s more or less the same one which he’s been born into, and has continued to exist for the past thirty-five years. His universe, for some reason, doesn’t expand. And his has often felt that, if anything, it’s shown the prospects of progressively shrinking. For one, the biggest planet in his universe has moved further and further away, as it had for countless number of times before. His wife, Jung Eunji, has yet again, left him.

The thing is, he doesn’t even have fair grounds to say that he isn’t at fault for her leaving. When Eunji packed her bags, thrown her jacket on and grabbed the keys to her car, she asked him in a soft, tearful voice; “You will never change, will you?” And Sung Gyu couldn’t say anything in return that time; not even that it wasn’t true, not even that he will, one day, because the fact of the matter is that he hasn’t, certainly, changed. Nor could he assure that he ever will. His life, as it happens, is as constant as the moon above. Cold, boring and has no gravity. The fact that he has just returned from a long expedition in a faraway land doesn’t even change anything.

Kim Sung Gyu, aged thirty-five, has been married to Jung Eunji for three years. Sung Gyu is an anthropologist, a lecturer in probationary at Busan National university who specializes in Primatology, which basically means that he conducts most of his studies on, well, monkeys. He met Jung Eunji during one of his visiting lectures at the same university he works at seven years ago, when he conducted a class on anthropometry for the medical students. Eunji was a student, Sung Gyu was a lecturer, and just like the single dimension of time connected with the three dimensions of space, building the space-time continuum, Sung Gyu and Eunji found the lost pieces of themselves, floating in each other. The day he asked her if she’d like to accompany him to an alumni dinner of their university, Eunji had impulsively grabbed the nearest human skeleton, whom they called “Yeong-Yeong” due to it having been in the lab as long as they remembered, and had so confidently told him that she’d rather go with that. Four years later, however, the two were married and madly in love.

It’s not that their marriage is particularly unhappy. Sung Gyu loves Eunji, and Eunji loves him back. Despite being unable to conceive a child for the past three years of trying, Sung Gyu believes that they were content and that the comfort of each other’s presence is enough. But since recently, Eunji has started claiming that the relationship between him and her has lost its spark. Sung Gyu isn’t sure what she means by that, because, as a scientist, he hasn’t really taken note of anything remotely close to what one would see as a ‘spark’ between them. Despite being a doctor, she certainly has an uncanny was of perceiving things. Sung Gyu hasn’t changed. He’s pretty much the same as he’s always been. Calm, composed and has a peculiar fascination of monkeys. He has tried in at least thousand different perspectives to understand her, and each time he has ceremoniously failed. The trigger to her leaving, however, was him bringing the stuffed carcasses of a rare species of a primate to their family home after his two-week long expedition in Sri Lanka (In addition to the five different monkey skeletons, two carcasses of new world monkeys he’s found in northern America, and Yeong-Yeong the skeleton he’s begged Eunji to let him keep as a memento of them) and setting it in their living room as what he had told her a decorative ornament. Eunji’s been unable to conceive a child for three years, and a baby of their own has always been her biggest dream, no matter how much Sung Gyu has assured her he’d love her without a child all the same. And in her opinion, keeping dead monkeys in their home was a bad omen that’s been preventing them from having a child. She’s told him this as he stood in their living room, proudly looking at the stuffed slender loris, and once she was done, he’s pulled her towards him, hugged her from the back and laughed, telling her that there is no way some dead monkeys could control a biological process in a human being. This set her off. And the next thing he knew was that she was packing her bags, yet again, crying and muttering under her breath that she was tired of living in a house filled of dead primates. He supposes it has never occurred to him that living in a house of which the basement is literally a primate museum would result in ruining the relationship with one’s spouse. He decides now, that it’s time he comes into terms with this. After all, it’s not even the first time that she left him (Only to come back home, crying)

Sung Gyu looks up at the night sky above him and lets out a dejected sigh. It’s been only a couple of hours since she left. He isn’t sure how long, since he hasn’t kept track of time. But he misses he. He could be watching the stars, lying on the beach with her, tonight. Not in the company of his self-loath, loneliness and twelve cans of beer. The sky is clear and stars are scattered throughout despite the season. The universe above them is vast, and in any case, pacifying. A strong wind coming from the ocean rushes past him and he breathes in the salty air. Their family home is situated in a tranquil suburban region of Busan, a quiet line of the beach bordering them. The stars are visible from the patio of their house as well. But without Eunji inside, he feels as if the souls of the dead monkeys are haunting their home. He hates how the sound of his footsteps echoes inside. He stares at the dark, monstrous ocean before him, the waves crashing endlessly on the rocks, lingering on the white sand and retreating. The hazy twilight is slowly disappearing in the horizon, the sky shaded in grey and lavender meeting the big blue. He watches the evening slowly becoming dusk, all for the lack of better things to do. Two cans of beer have been already consumed, but that sure isn’t enough to numb his mind. Regardless, he thinks he’s got to be pretty darn drunk, because suddenly, a bright neon light appears at the edge of the horizon, colliding where the sky and the ocean meet, and with what he can only define as an explosion (though it hardly has the likes of one) the light expands into hues of hoary lavender lights.

“What the ?” He mumbles, and sits up to observe more clearly, if that will actually help him understand this strange phenomenon.

The hues inflate, grow larger and larger with a hint of orange and crimson dispersing where it hit. Sung Gyu can swear he hears an unbearable sound of a lowly whistle from the direction of the explosion, one similar to what they make when a jet takes off. Sung Gyu watches the colours with wide, fascinated eyes, then blink a few times to see if he’s dreaming, and decides he’s just drunk. No air crash would make that kind of a reaction, not one virtually similar to what you’d call a Halo effect, nor would a meteor or an asteroid or the crash of any known galactic object. What’s stranger is that whatever the collision is, the aftermath is still there, yet to disappear, brightening the night sky in a soft lavender illuminance. Sung Gyu lies back then, giving up on trying to understand what it actually means. As of now, nothing makes sense to him. Not the sky, nor the stars, especially not his life. “I’m probably just drunk” He thinks, and finally picks up the empty and still unopened cans of beer, stands up, and makes it across the beach towards his house. When things that he doesn’t want to understand actually happens, Sung gyu would do just one simple thing. He sleeps on it.

*

The next morning, Sung Gyu is startled awake by the incessant ringing of his phone. The bright morning sun is filtering in through the curtains. which are fluttering gently in the breeze coming from the ocean below. He opens one eye, takes in his surrounding, then opens the other. Through his hazy gaze, he locates the phone thrown haphazardly somewhere among the covers and answers without even bothering to check who the caller is.

“Hello?”

“Sung Gyu” It’s his mother. Relief washes through him knowing that Eunji has safely made it back home, despite the fact that she’s left him. Eunji has grown up in Busan with only her mother after her father left them when she’s been only twelve. Ever since her mother too, passed away in a chronic sickness, Eunji’s been finding solace in Sung Gyu’s mother, who, unfortunately lived more than 100 miles away. Regardless, she’s always welcomed into her home after every one of their quarrels, warmly, as if Eunji is her own child. His mother loved her, so much so that Sung Gyu, at times, finds himself questioning the love his mother might have for her own son.

The other thing about his mother is that, she had her…tendencies, and one of them is that she can get really, really scary when she needed to be. When she speaks, Sung Gyu knows that voice, and he mentally prepares himself to be drowned in her reproach so early in the morning, slips on his house slippers and makes it across his empty house towards the patio overlooking the beach. His mother is going on and on, on the other end of the phone, and he replies briefly with a meek “Yeah mum”. Or “I understand”. Eunji and his mother together are a team. A team unified for the sole purpose of bullying Sung Gyu whenever they think he deserves it, which is also frequently.

“And you definitely crossed a line there, Sung Gyu. You know how sensitive she is about…” her voice goes down an octave, and Sung Gyu sits in a garden chair, leans back and covers his eyes with his arm to avoid the balmy sun above. “…You know, children” Whispers his mother.

Sung Gyu lets out a sigh. It’s something they are both sensitive about, and she really doesn’t have to make it sound like what he did, he did with intention. “Mum….” He begins, exasperatedly. “I didn’t mean it in that way. Besides, mum, she understands how important this is for me”

“I don’t think anyone will understand your obsession with monkeys, Sung Gyu” She deadpans.

“Primates” Sung Gyu corrects her helplessly, and sits up when a strange grinding sound comes from the beach down below over the low rumbling of the waves. “Anyway mum, how is she? Is she around to speak?” The grinding sound erupts yet again, and he stands up, curious, and makes it across the patio towards the railing.

“She’s having breakfast…” Replies his mother thoughtfully, and shuffling sounds are heard from the other end before her voice echoes in a muffled yell; “Eunji, sweetheart, Sung Gyu’s on the phone”

Sung Gyu turns his back to the railing, for once giving his wife his complete attention, trying to ignore the increasing sound of whatever’s being dragged on the sand below, and waits. He can hear her yelling back, and she sounds like is full. “Did he ring himself?”

“No, I did”

Sung Gyu slaps a hand on his forehead and his mother returns to the receiver. “She doesn’t want to talk until you would apologize yourself, Sung Gyu” Sung Gyu rolls his eyes and turns back to overlook the sea. “Mum, that’s what I’m trying to do! Just-just…” He sighs. “Can you tell her that I’m sorry? I’m sorry, okay? And the loris is so tiny, it can still be a great souvenir-,”

“Kim Sung Gyu-,”

GRRRR!!

“Huh?!” Sung Gyu yelps, startled by the grinding noise which is now coming from directly down below the patio, near his house. He is certain the world shakes a little as the sound erupts. It becomes silent, all of a sudden, a moment passes, and there it is again, a racket so loud as if some kind of a drilling machine is puncturing into the wet sand on the beach underneath.

“What the ?” He mutters as he leans over the railing, trying to catch a better look of whatever is happing beneath his feet. He doesn’t remember himself calling for any repairs, he doesn’t remember if the house ever even needed any. There isn’t anyone around in this secluded area who would come and randomly…drill the sand on the beach…

But there, on the beach, is a strange person in a funny gleaming silvery costume, sitting atop what looks like a vessel of some sort which is halfway buried under the sand. Sung Gyu blinks a few times, convinced that he has begun seeing things, feigns ignorance to his mother yelling over the phone, wipes his face with the back of his hands and looks again. It’s still there the strange vessel, but only, the man is now easing into it through a round, opened door, and then suddenly the whirring erupts again, shaking the ground. Just as he watches it, the vessel begins to bury itself in the sand even further.

“Holy-!”

Sung Gyu concludes; it’s either that he’s being invaded by some sort of a strange cult of technical geeks, or he’s drunk and still in his dreams. Either way, Sung Gyu leaves the phone on the lounging chair nearby and darts through the house, down the stairs and straight out into the garden. He isn’t seeing things. There definitely is a strange machine buried under the sand in his part of the beach, and a man is effortlessly pulling himself out of a hole on it, a determined look on his face. Sung Gyu pinches himself. He feels it, he feels all of it. The balmy sun on his face, the saltiness of the air, his bare feet sinking into the soft white sand, and “Ow!” A particularly hard pinch on his arm. It is real. All of it is real. There is no other plausible explanation for that.

Neither there is, for the fact that there’s a spaceship buried in his garden, and that some strange man in a space suit is standing on the edge of the beach, looking him down with a look of resolve. Sung Gyu stares at the man for good ten seconds, close his eyes and shakes his head. For one, there is no way that anyone could ever survive inside anything as outlandish as that in this hot weather. Secondly, the glimmer of the material is making his head hurt. Lastly, though he doesn’t understand how it is even possible, he knows; none of this can be real.

“I’m just drunk. I’m really just drunk. I’m in my dreams…ah! get a hold of yourself, Kim Sung Gyu!” Sung Gyu finally wills himself to turn around and stomp back into his house. If he pretends that none of it happened, if he pretends that there isn’t some mad man in a silver space suit burying a space ship under sand in his private beach, then of course, it will cease to exist. Because it’s only just a fragment of his mind. This man, this ship, that sound, they are nothing but portions of existence in tiny, tiny fragment of his own wildly running imagination, trying to overtake the reality and the saner side of his mind in a hazy, drunkard dream.

Sung Gyu returns to his house, and is just about to pull the sliding door close when suddenly.

“Human!”

Sung Gyu turns around, and the strange man in the silver space suit is standing right before him.

“What the hell, why are you here, what do you want from me?” Sung Gyu exclaims exasperatedly. If a strange astronomic believers’ cult has decided to bury their weird space ship inventions in his home beach, then they might as well ask for his ing permission, or better yet, leave him alone and do their dirty work elsewhere.

The man blinks, his wet hair sticking to his forehead, and his face slowly morphs into a scowl, before it takes up that same look of pure determination. Sung Gyu almost wants to laugh, almost, because what he says next has him standing there speechless, hanging onto the frame of the door for his dear life. He isn’t sure how his life has suddenly taken such an eccentric turn; devoid of reasoning, but it certainly has.

The first time he hears it, it doesn’t make much sense. He grasps onto the door, nevertheless, backing into the house, and goes; “W-what?”

The man in the space suit, seeming exasperated, sighs loudly and finally regains his composure before he repeats his previous words with much emphasis on each and every syllable.

“I come from the Inter Galactic Planetary Federation, I come in peace, carrying a message of harmony and reconciliation for you earthlings; now, Take me to your leader”

“Uh…” Sung Gyu stalls, slowly backtracking into the house, deciding that he has indeed been invaded by someone who is inherently retarded, and without one look at the man behind him, he pulls the door shut, and drags down the blinders for good measure. He leans against the wall, closing his eyes and lets out a sigh. Right. If he pretends that none of this ever happened, then they’d never have happened at all.