The Shiny Package

It rained anticlimax.

Ian Bean couldn't quite get out of bed. He knew that it had happened again. Everything seemed less significant in the morning. It was becoming more obvious to him in the last four years. Perhaps it was the cold climate. Maybe the 6 months of winter in Chicago had an effect.

For the last twenty years, Ian suspected something quite extraordinary. He suspected that he was being abducted, by extraterrestrials. It was so bizarre and surreal that he was embarrassed just to think that. The apparent become more real to him recently, so much so that he was now sure that he was abducted. But he always woke up in bed.

At first, they just seemed like dreams. But then he started having the undeniable feeling that something was changing; he was changing, but nothing that he could put his hands around. There were signs that he could not understand, but he could recognize.

For example, he would spend days, even weeks in a room aboard what he only dared think of as a vessel of some sort. Not that he would know, as he spent all his time in a large room, consisting of a table and many unidentifiable instruments, which could be described as "medical looking". But when he awoke, he would find himself in bed, with just a few hours gone by.

He remembered the explanation. Something about the effect of gravity on time, and how manipulating the uniform acceleration, time could be manipulated. How did he know that? He often wondered. He was not a mathematician, he even hated math. He remembered someone telling him that, but he could not remember whom.

Then there were the scars that he found on various parts of his body, which disappeared within hours. Of course, he had an explanation for that also. This was something about how the waves, a million times smaller then the atoms are only converted to particles, if the participant engages them. He could not quite remember how he knew this, as well.

But this morning was different. He had proof. He held in his hands a package the size of a shoebox, wrapped in what looked like regular kitchen foil. And it was wet. No, it wasn't wet; he realized that his hands were sweating profusely. Which was a sign that he had just "returned".

In fact, Ian was abducted. What he didn't know was that he was abducted exactly 229 times. He was being abducted since he was six years old, for the last 25 years.

His experiences were not particularly pleasant. He remembered some imprecise accounts, such as a metallic representation of an ear swab being inserted in his ear, and extracting a bronze translucent gel that he had never seen before. Or, the white of his eyes being scraped to extricate yet another peculiar and unfamiliar substance. Or, his flesh being sliced open and his bones studied. None of which actually hurt as much as it should. Although, his last visit was particularly painful, and perplexing, which made him wonder if it truly happened, if it weren't for the shiny package that he was holding.

A week ago, Ian had an agonizing dental episode, when his wisdom tooth was extracted. Some bone had to be sawed, and some stitches were administered, leaving him in throbbing pain. During his most recent "trip", he endured a three-foot midget repeatedly hitting him on his affected area. He would start to bleed. At which point they would make him spit in a metal cup, and excitedly start analyzing with tiny glass instruments.

This was the first time he acted up.