It was a warm cloudless night thirty odd years before. By rights, it should have been a stormy wind torn night, but sometimes life has no sense of narrative effect.
The facility stood atop a hill. Alone in a field of electrified fencing, no sign outside proclaimed its purpose. Of warning and danger signs there were a plenty, and the dog patrols that could be spied by those who dared creep close enough were sufficient to spark rumours that it must be some sort of top-secret military base.
No one from the nearest village three miles away worked at the facility, or knew anyone who did. Although there was a main access road that ran up to the gates, it was often rumoured that the strange building was accessed secretly by means of a vast network of underground tunnels.
After a while, and despite the occasional stories of intrigue that often surrounds buildings like this, the facility gradually faded into the local background.
Occasionally people passing by on their way to somewhere else, would catch a glimpse of the facility or its long stretches of fencing but by the time it had passed from their rear view mirrors it was long forgotten about.
On this particular night however, if for instance you happened to be driving by and your car broke down on the motorway; you might be standing looking east, and as you were rubbing sweat and dirt out of your eyes, you might swear that just for a second you saw a great big flash of light burst out from the roof of a low brick building.
You’d probably just put it down to it being so late, and you being so tired, and you shouldn’t really be driving, and why don’t I just curl up in the back seat for a few hours. By the time you woke up, you would have forgotten about it and be wondering how far it was to the nearest petrol pump.
And because you had fallen asleep, you would not have noticed the other two flashes of light that followed not long after.