Sam Witwicky successfully got in touch with the beautiful Mikaela and drove her home. The process had been full of comedy and a few awkward little problems, but they had at least become friends who could talk to each other—a major step forward. It also made him temporarily forget about the problem with his car. He found it absurd, and when he got home, he looked at his laptop and smiled.
Naturally, Murphy would not let him ignore its existence. The laptop screen went black again. "Now isn't the time to be happy. Everything will change tonight. If you're not sleepy, we can talk!"
Sam Witwicky's expression changed, but this time he knew he could communicate by typing. "Come on, man, you still haven't given up on this boring prank? My car is perfectly normal."
"Do normal cars change radio stations by themselves?" After Murphy said that, Sam Witwicky froze.
His surging hormones had left him muddleheaded all day, and he had completely overlooked that strange occurrence. Still, he refused to believe it. "It's a junker. Its radio is broken."
"Sam, you're in danger. You have something they need, and they are divided into two factions—one mild, one violent. You need my help."
"Then who are you? How do you know all this?" Sam Witwicky was fairly calm now, because Murphy posed no threat to him so far and had not made him feel afraid.
"I've studied them for a long time. There were traces of their existence on Earth long ago. When your great-great-grandfather explored the Arctic, he discovered something extraordinary. The giant Iceman he spoke of was actually a robot—an extraterrestrial mechanical life-form. And the symbols he found were their writing."
"Really?" Sam Witwicky asked.
Most people were unwilling to accept that one of their elders had been