The power from the massive 766 cubic inch engine reverberated throughout the cabin. The operator of the colossal machine, that weighed in right around 32,000 pounds, sat in a comfortable chair, surrounded by a bank of video and computer monitors. Gauges tracked everything from speed, ground clearance and flow rate, to everything else that could possibly be needed. He didn’t even have to steer if he didn’t want to. A cutting edge GPS, or Global Positioning System, could do that with far greater accuracy than a mere mortal. He could concentrate on more important matters, such as which song he should play next through his equally powerful and sophisticated sound system.
Danny Forrester was ensconced in the climate controlled, glass encased control center of his combine tractor, snapping up rows of corn faster than a contestant at the local hot dog eating contest that was held each year at the county fair. He sat, listening to music and enjoying the scenery while the machine worked its way tirelessly through the unending rows. Danny was a farmer, as was his Daddy, as was his Daddy before that, as was his Daddy before that and so forth.
The Forrester's had been farming this land since Thomas Forrester had received a land grant for his service with the Continental Army in the Revolutionary War. Danny’s son, Todd, would almost certainly do the same. Danny was young, only twenty-three, but his father had died of a heart attack last year and he inherited the ancestral land much earlier than he normally would have. Fortunately, the Forrester’s were very successful in their business and they had little problem dealing with the exorbitant estate taxes that caused many farmers to lose the land that had been in their families for generations.
He liked the work. It was peaceful, rewarding and he dearly loved the land. He could not dream of doing anything else and took all of the hard work and the pitfalls of the job in stride. The only thing that really bothered him was the wanton destruction of his crops, and he was seeing signs of that right now. Off in the distance, but getting closer with each pass, was an obvious path through the corn to the approximate center of this particular field. Obviously, someone had driven a car from the road, right through Danny Forrester’s corn field and in to the middle. There was a large blank space in the corn at the end of the path as well.
Danny had seen it before, too many times for his liking. A group of kids looking for someplace to party, safe from the prying eyes of cops and other adults. Or perhaps some lovers who also wanted to be safe from the searching eyes of cops, other adults and in some cases, spouses. Whatever the reason, the results were the same.
As the combine got nearer on every successive pass, he looked closer at the damaged area. The downed corn had been young when the destruction occurred, so what ever had happened here had happened some time ago, obviously months earlier. Danny had gotten his crops planted early this year, dangerously early and a cold spell nearly ruined his efforts. This vandalism had to have been done shortly after planting. One area in the center of the field looked particularly barren. That was strange. He wondered what had been done there to cause that? Bonfire perhaps? One more pass and he would be over it. He looked straight down from his lofty perch on the last roll by and noticed something that glinted in the sunlight, a sudden, bright flash, then it was gone. ‘Probably a beer can.’ He thought. Still, there was something about the way the sun reflected off the object that didn’t set right with him. The flash appeared too tiny, too bright to be cast from something as course as aluminum.
The big machine turned around at the end of the field and started chomping it’s way back, heading directly for the barren patch. Just before it got there, Danny stopped the machine and clambered down the ladder to the ground. He walked over to the area in question and stood,

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