I get called out of bed at 4:00am. It’s all hush hush top secret. After putting a leg to trousers, I am herded with a few dozen others into a truck. A gruff sergeant forces waivers and pens upon us. Squinting through sleepy eyes I read something about losing my livelihood if I tell anyone about what’s what. Hurry up, shouts the sergeant. I quickly scrawl my name.

Twenty minutes later and the truck screeches to a halt. The canvas is ripped up, and I spy the tarmac of an airport. Into the belly of one of those Boeing beasts we go. Once strapped in I take the opportunity for some shut eye. Army 101, take sleep when and where you can get it.

I awake to the metallic clank of the plane door coming down. A gale colder than a yeti’s nipples enters the compartment soon after and leaves me shivering. Up, up, up! Fuckin sergeants again. When we file out I see a glamorous little Antarctic institute, all lines and no curves. I must have been asleep longer than I thought.

Inside we’re forced to don goggles, masks and all body suits, with zippers that run from your ass to your elbow. Looking like a cross between Breaking Bad’s Heisenberg and an Oompa Loompa we’re next guided to a helipad.

Thirty minutes in and the pilots start to get excited. I poke my head between their seats. Now I can see what all the fuss is about. In the distance, tiny orange speckles cover the snow, obscuring a massive metallic object. As the heli lands and I drop to the ground I summon just one more thought: It’s a goddamn UFO and we’re here to dig it out.