by Rob Rosen
“Wow,” he said, once we were both dry and dressed. “I’m guessing there aren’t any seamstresses or tailors on this planet.”
I grinned and plucked at my shirt. “Plus, this stuff must grow as you grow, so far less shopping needed.” I smoothed out the silky fabric. “Too bad it’s in green, though; not my favorite color. Blue would’ve been nicer.” And yes, holy fuck, the shirt instantly turned blue. I pointed at the logo over my right pec. It was of a tree. Or maybe a bush. Heck, it could’ve been a hairy rock, for all I knew. “Shirt,” I said, still grinning at Craig. “Change logo to the wording: rescue squad.” Yep, bye-bye tree, hello requested lettering, stitched beautifully in gold.
“Dude,” Craig said, wide-eyed. “I have a feeling that this world is gonna be full of surprises.”
And it surely was.
Though the biggest surprise had nothing to do with the shirt on my back, or the wallet, which I’d taken, or the watch, which I’d slipped on my wrist, or the shoes on my feet, or the world waiting for us outside.
Nope, the biggest surprise was…well, come on, we’re far too early in this story for that, aren’t we?
Chapter 5
The wall parted at our approach. Craig and I left the bedroom, tiptoeing our way into a hallway. The house was silent, sparsely and coldly decorated, most of the furnishings familiar yet still different from what we were accustomed to. There was little color, no warmth to anything, no real signs of, you know, life.
Still, the tour needed to be a short one. If anyone was home, namely a parental unit, we thought it best that they didn’t find us there in clothes that didn’t belong to us, with a watch on my wrist and a wallet in my slacks that also didn’t belong to us.
In other words, we were standing by a wall a moment later, desperately looking for a door. Thankfully, one slid open before I could even reach for a nonexistent knob. I jumped as it did this, and jumped even higher once we were confronted with the outside.
Okay, so I’ll tell you what the outside looked like, but if all I’m going to do is explain the fantastical objects and sights we were soon to see, then this tale will quickly turn to nothing more than a travelogue of this strange and exciting world, whose name we still didn’t know yet. In other words, a hat and a tree and a sidewalk and a car will henceforth be known as a hat and a tree and a sidewalk and a car, however, yes, fantastical they might be. If an added description is deemed necessary, don’t worry, I’ll provide it.
Fine?
So, here we go…
It was indeed nighttime. The sky looked just like the bedroom ceiling. It looked, in fact, like the sky on earth, except for the three moons instead of one, two of them larger and brighter than the distant crescent third, which glowed a beautiful orange.
I breathed in. The air smelled clean and fresh and cool. Craig breathed in with me. “Well, at least we didn’t suffocate or inhale something poisonous,” he said. “Points for that.”
I nodded as I took in the neighborhood. It looked like the burbs, with houses separated by lawns of blue grass, the trees of various shapes and sizes, all of them well-pruned, most of them in flower. I heard what sounded like crickets, but could of course have been any manner of beast. It was all lovely, very otherworldly—which seemed apt, considering we were on another world, and all.
“Nice place,” I said. “A bit cold-looking, a bit sterile, but nice.”
He also nodded. “Let’s take into consideration what you told me that Milo told you, that God belched this universe first and ours last. If such was the case—and that, of course, is a big if—then we can assume that the building blocks of both worlds were the same, that the atoms and molecules and elements formed similarly, that evolution took place in much the same way, that both worlds are somewhat similar, but with variation in color and shape and size. Still, similar just the same. Then take into account that, as Milo said, God gave them more stuff to work with, that they therefore evolved quicker. That would explain the advanced technology.” He pulled at his shirt, which he’d changed from red to yellow. “Even these clothes are advanced. Still, for all intents and purposes, the people on this planet are human-like, presumably with human-like feelings and foibles.”
“And?”
He shrugged. “Like you sad, it’s all nice, familiar, so all we have to do is act normal and blend in.”
“Should be easy enough.”
He grinned. “If you were normal, then yes. In any case, don’t be surprised by anything you see or hear or taste.”
We began to walk down the sidewalk, though the sidewalk had us covered in that regard. Mainly because we didn’t have to walk. As soon as we stepped onto it, it began to move. No muss, no fuss.
“Hear, you said. But they won’t speak our language, so hearing won’t be of much use. Milo only spoke English because he studied it, so that he could communicate with me.”
“Yep,” Craig said. “I thought the same thing. Hand me your watch; I have an idea.”
I took off the watch. I snapped it on Craig’s wrist. That is to say, I touched it to his wrist and it snapped on itself, fitting like a, uh, glove. Craig spoke to the device. “How many languages are spoken on this planet?”
The watch lit up. It replied in English, “Eighty-seven.” It didn’t sound computery. In fact, it sounded, I don’t know, sort of, well, sexy. Perhaps, I then reasoned, since these aliens had studied us over a period of years, English was recorded into their databases, that all things electronic, mechanical, could understand us and communicate with us, not just the watch.
In any case, Craig continued. “What is the name of this planet?”
“Planet Six. Planet Six is the sixth planet of twelve that revolve around the sun.”
“How many are habitable?”
“Three. Planets Three, Four and Six all sustain life.”
“Is there interplanetary travel?”
“The inhabitants of planets Four and Six travel between each other.”
“Are they genetically similar?”
“They are identical. Planet Four was populated by Planet Six eighty thousand and twelve years ago. The two planets, however, speak numerous different languages and have different customs. The laws are similar. Relations are friendly.”
“Enough,” said Craig. “Off.”
He turned to me. “Well, that was interesting,” he said. “So, if we get caught, we can say we’re from Planet Four, which might explain why no one has a record of us. And if someone tries to communicate with us, pretend to be mute and let the watch answer for us. Fingers crossed that none of this sets off any bells or whistles.”
“Or nuclear bombs or death rays.”
He winced. “Yeah, or those.” He again looked down at the watch and spoke. “Will you be able to cover for us if questioned?” he asked. “Do you understand the request?”
The watch replied, “I will, and I do. No problem. I have covered for my owner numerous times before.”
I wondered for what. I wished we had time to find out. Sadly, time is something we did not have.
We continued on our way, the sidewalk meandering us through the neighborhood at a fairly good clip. In the distance, brighter lights could be seen. This, I figured, was a city. From there, we could probably access the rest of the planet. From there, we could hopefully get to Milo. Except, of course, we hadn’t a clue where Milo was—or if Milo himself still, uh, was.
I turned to look at my brother. “Well, this is great and all, but it’s not getting us anywhere.”
“I guess we could simply ask the watch where he is.”
“That easy?”
He shrugged. “Seems to me, everything about this planet is about making things easy. I suppose that’s the purpose of technology, how it evolves over time. With each generation, things just get easier and easier.”
“Okay, so ask it.”
Craig paused. “What if…what if we don’t like the answer?”
My heart pounded, belly gurgling at the inference. �
��Then we go home, right?” Again, fingers crossed. I mean, Planet Six was a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. I mean, blue grass and purple leaves? No thanks. Green is just fine for me. Plus, I like clothes shopping. I find it quite Zen. Seems like by making it so easy on Planet Six, they took out all the fun. And yes, I was procrastinating here, postponing answering Craig, terrified at what we might find—or might not find, namely Milo.
“Hello,” said Craig, thereby shaking me out of my reverie. “Earth to Randy.”
I forced a smile. “That phrase seems to take on a whole new meaning here, little bro.”
He nodded. “Is it weird to feel homesick after just fifteen minutes?”
I’d been feeling the same. “Nope.” I pointed at the watch, a gulp riding like a runaway elevator along my throat. “Ask. Quickly. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”
He lifted his wrist to his mouth. “Where is the owner of this device, the person familiarly known as Milo.”
“Current exact whereabouts unknown,” came the reply. Actually, the watch sounded like a coffee commercial. A sexy coffee commercial, but still. Good to the last drop.
“Last known whereabouts?”
“Body GPS was last recorded in City Northeast Nineteen, two days ago.”
Fear suddenly gripped me. “Two days ago, his body GPS got turned off. Does that mean he’s…does it mean…that he’s dead?” The last word came out part whisper, part sob, all misery.
“No,” replied the watch. “Body GPS would still register in death, unless the body was incinerated.” I clutched my chest. It felt as if I’d been stabbed there. “Other options for body GPS cessation: intentional blockage of signal by outside source; device malfunction; encasement in thick enough material so that signal cannot transmit properly.”
Craig nodded. “And the probability of malfunction?”
To which the watch replied, “Point-two percent.”
“Off,” said Craig, and the watch went black. “So, that leaves death or intentional signal blockage or possible imprisonment. In any case, at least we know where to start looking for him.”
“City Northeast Nineteen,” I said, and the sidewalk abruptly stopped, which meant that, as suspected, all mechanical devices on this planet, or, at the very least, the people movers and a lone sexy-talking watch and a few articles of clothing, understood English.
“Huh,” Craig said. “Seems this sidewalk doesn’t go that way.”
“Think they have Uber on Planet Six?”
Craig shrugged. “Probably something similar.” He again talked to the watch. “What is the easiest way to City Northeast Nineteen?”
“City Northeast Nineteen is approximately seven Earth miles from your present location. Underground transport will take you four minutes. Mover at southwest corner will have you at the terminal in sixteen minutes. Board at station four, heading north. Cost in Earth currency is three dollars and forty cents.”
I looked at Craig. “We don’t have any currency.”
“Hand me Milo’s wallet.”
Milo’s wallet was a thin metal case with several cards inside. I assumed these were some sort of credit cards or card keys, and, to quote Craig, ergo, that it really was some sort of wallet. In any case, I handed it over to Craig.
“Is there a payment method held within this?”
The watch emitted some sort of scanning light. The wallet, for its part, seemed to activate upon being scanned. An image of Milo appeared on the cover. It was some sort of photo ID, it seemed. My heart pulsed at the sight. A second later, my dick did the same.
“Payment method within,” replied the watch.
“How do we pay for underground transport?” Craig then asked.
“Underground transport will scan case. Payment will be made upon scan.”
Craig looked at me. “Not a good idea.”
“Why is that?” I asked. “Sounds easy enough. Just like the subway back home, more or less.”
He shook his head. “They scan the wallet, someone somewhere will know that Milo is travelling. What if bad people find this out? What if bad people are monitoring for such an occurrence? What if bad people already know that Milo can’t possibly be travelling?”
I sighed and put my mouth near the watch, which was as strange as it sounds. “Is there another way to pay for underground transport, other than by scan? A currency of some sort?”
“Currency on Planet Six was made inactive two hundred and ninety-four Earth years ago.”
I sighed and looked at the watch. If it was going to be our, you know, friend, I’d have to call it something. “Do you have a name?”
“Milo refers to me as Tag Heuer.”
I laughed. I laughed because it was better than crying. I laughed because clearly Milo had a sense of humor—and, of course, great taste in men, namely moi. “Okay, Tag, is there another way to get into the underground transport that doesn’t involve getting scanned.”
“Only other way is illegal.”
I nodded. “Still, is there a way?”
It paused, however briefly. I assumed it was thinking, so to speak. “Workers are not scanned for payment.”
Craig raised his hand to ask a question, old habits dying hard. I hope we didn’t meet the same fate—the dying part, that is. Hard or easy. “Um, but we’re not workers.”
“You asked a question,” Tag replied. “This is your answer. You could also walk to your destination. It would take approximately six Earth hours.”
Craig looked at me. I looked at him. “We’ll work it out when we get to the terminal,” he said.
I nodded as we made our way to the southwest corner of the block. We hopped on the sidewalk. Whoosh, we were underway. “Underground transport,” I said. The sidewalk kept moving, so we must’ve been headed in the right direction.
We passed houses, as before, but they began to thin out, replaced by small buildings, all made of various metals. There was no wood, no brick. Everything gleamed in the moonlight—or, as was the case, moonslight. I gazed up and around and over and down. All was new to me, but with a feeling of familiarity. A wall was a wall, a lawn a lawn, as if the evolution of both species tended toward a certain commonality.
Sixteen minutes later, and just as Tag had promised, we spotted the terminal. Well, it looked like a terminal, given that it was well-lit and wasn’t like the other nearby buildings. Plus, it had steps going down into the ground. But hey, it could’ve been a post office for all we knew, or even a police station. “Please don’t let this be a police station,” I whispered as we made our way in and down, and down, and down some more, the steps, thank goodness, becoming yet another people mover. As for them—the people, that is—it was late, as was evident by the sky and the moons high above, so, as yet, we hadn’t seen any. For that, I was both grateful and disappointed. I mean, did everyone look like Milo on this planet? Stunning, I mean? Like me, I mean?
Then, at last, we were in a vast underground cavern. It was reminiscent of the photos I’d seen of Grand Central Station, with tunnels trailing off from the outer walls. But where the station in New York was all brick and stone and cement, this was again metal, sheets of it in various metallic hues, all lit by recessed lighting. It was both beautiful and stark. In fact, as I thought about it, that expressed everything we’d seen thus far: beautifully stark, no adornments, simplistic.
We walked to one of the tunnels. There were sensors around the rim: a thin strip of metal with moving green lights—and sensors, we knew, were not our friend.
“There has to be someone working here, some station agent, a janitor,” I said. “Tag told us that the workers don’t get scanned for payment, so there has to be workers, right? But where? I don’t see anything, no ticket booth, no janitor’s closet, no security, nothing.”
Craig nodded and turned around, and around, and around again. “Nope, nothing.” He scratched at his chin and squinted his eyes. “They have to pee, don’t they?” He lifted his wrist. “Tag, where is the clos
est bathroom?”
“You must request it.”
“The bathroom?”
“Yes.”
Craig shrugged and said, “Bathroom,” his voice echoing in the vast, empty space around us.
And just like that, the wall closest to us split, a room inside revealed, brightly lit.
“This stark look is on purpose,” said Craig. “They seem to like things to look bare, plain. Everything has a function, but you have to ask for it, otherwise, it’s kept out of sight.” He moved to the bathroom. “Be right back. Need to test an idea.”
“It’s a bathroom,” I said as he walked inside. “What’s to test? You pee and poop in there.” Right? They did that on Planet Six, didn’t they? Or did Tag take care of that as well? If and when I ever made it back to Earth, I’d have to invest in the watch industry. You know, once I had two nickels to rub together.
Craig returned. “Nice bathroom.”
“Stark, I bet.”
He nodded. “Very.” He held up a piece of what looked to be tissue paper. “This is my idea.”
I grinned. “Are we going to festoon their trees. I bet these people prefer treats over tricks, little bro.”
He shook his head. “Just watch.”
I watched as he dropped the tissue paper. It fluttered slowly to the also metal ground. In a flash, a robotic device appeared from inside the wall. The tissue paper didn’t know what hit it. One minute it was minding its own business, the next, slurp, it was gone, as was the robot.
“Fascinating,” I said as I patted Craig’s back. “Who needs TV when you have that?”
He pushed my arm away, eyes summarily rolling. “No, you idiot. My idea was that there are no ticket agents, no janitors, no security guards, because everything, absolutely everything, is automated.”
