I t was a cold and windy Friday night, just like any other at the Bermuda Triangle research centre in Roswell, New Mexico. There had been no incidents or reports of monster or alien contact in weeks, and the researchers had dispersed from their posts to spend the weekend with their families. A skeleton crew had been left on at the compound, monitoring for any signs of activity, led by two of the institution's leading minds; Dr. Maxwell Lightman and Dr. Bryant Ashford. They had been monitoring the centre for years, and were veterans of the "dull, lonely years of nothing", as Dr. Lightman called it. The pair had been drinking and listening to music in the lab, when it happened. The readings on the computer had spiked, before the entire device burst into flames. They were quick to react, and soon the blaze was contained. The computer's hard drive, however, had melted into a pile of copper and plastic, before it had crumbled into dust. The pair mulled over the anomaly for hours, before settling down for what was left of the night.
The following morning, the pair revealed the readings to the board of directors at their monthly meeting. The readings made no sense at all, as it measured a force, at the centre of the Bermuda Triangle that was pushing rather than pulling, and the readings were so strong, they had destroyed the device measuring them. It was all top secret of course, as having such information out in the public domain would open up a Pandora's Box of unanswerable questions, and the pair wouldn't get any funding for their equipment in years.
That very evening, whilst drinking in a bar, they were approached by a fellow scientist, who introduced himself as Dr. Adam Turner. He was a plump, frizzy-haired, slightly clumsy man, who was an expert in computer science. He, too, had attended the board meeting and heard the readings, and wanted to know more. They obliged and accepted him into "The Triangle Initiative", as they had so named themselves, and invited him to join them for drinks that evening. Why not, they wondered, when it looked like an increase in the field was certainly on the horizon.
That very evening in the bar, Dr. Turner was treated to a spiel, only the second he had ever heard in his life; it was all too much, and he needed to get back home, so he could review the files on their computer and make sense of it all. He would call him in the morning to discuss the readings, but it was too late to complete the reading on the computer. The pair bartered that Dr. Turner could explore their files and leave in the morning, but he was out the door before they knew it, laughing and toasting with his finger to his lips. To this day, Dr. Maxwell Lightman and Dr. Bryant Ashford do not know what happened that evening, and Dr. Turner never called them in the morning.
That very night, Dr. Turner's home was broken into. The doors were kicked in and windows smashed, whilst he was asleep. The burglars made quick work of their home, and left with his only prize; the computer. Once they had taken what they wanted, and had left, they encountered an unexpected problem. The computer was linked to a network and had Dr. Turner's security application installed, against his wife's wishes. The burglars were unable to crack the code using both man and device, so they resorted to extreme measures. They worked tirelessly on the device and finally removed one of the printed circuit boards. They were immediately rewarded with access to the computer, and were able to remove the data, before piggybacking the device and removing it from the network once more.
Dr. Turner was awoken in the morning by his watch and his wife, who had completely missed out on the events of the night before. They went and cooked breakfast, before going to the doctor's office, as normal. Before setting off, he received a disturbing call from the police. They had recovered a computer from home, which matched the profile of his, but there was no sign of forced entry and the burglars have not yet been identified. The police chief warned him of a rising trend, in remote locations, of intruders targeting the homes of computers, and ending up with short, fat "stop me if you can" lovers.
Dr. Turner thanked the police and went back to his home, to face the media. There was nothing left of him, save what he had sat on that night, and the burglars were never identified or caught. The police chief was later shown the evidence and found it incredibly compelling, but he couldn't explain the cause or nature of it. There was no foul play involved, and the burglars had worked perfectly as burglars.