by Rob Rosen
“But Tag said there are workers.”
He nodded. “The first tissue was part one of the test.” Another tissue appeared, this one also dropped, also fluttering to the floor, the robot again appearing. Only, this time, when it slurped, we, or at least Craig, was a not so innocent bystander. That is to say, the robot slurped and Craig kicked, the robot tipping over, filling the otherwise noiseless cavern with a slight buzzing sound.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Bathroom!” he shouted. “Run!”
The bathroom again parted open and in we ran. The doors, or whatever they were, slid closed behind us. When I turned, expecting to see metal, I could, in fact, see the station beyond. “Cool.” I had a feeling that the houses did the same thing. It was dark when we were in Milo’s home and when we were riding the sidewalk. I hadn’t noticed windows before. Now, I gathered there simply weren’t any.
He shushed me. “Watch.”
I watched. A minute or so later, a man appeared in a grey jumpsuit. He looked around, apparently confused that there was a robot on its side and no people in sight. In any case, he righted it and the robot went back to whence it came. The man then walked to the wall and also disappeared from whence he came.
Craig looked at me. “People, or at least people in this station, only work to repair anything that is automated, which, it seems, is everything. I bet, if we go through that same wall he just went through, we’d eventually come out onto the transport platform.”
“If we can go through the same wall,” I said. “But how? The wall had to have scanned him before he went through. Your average person can’t get in there, I’m betting.”
He smiled brightly. “Good thing I’m not average then.”
In fact, I was thinking the same thing. I gave my brother a lot of shit—seriously, a lot—but I certainly appreciated his genius, especially now. And as for that aforementioned now, we were now headed back to the bathroom.
“Tag,” he said, once inside.
“Yes, sir?”
“Craig. Please, call me Craig.”
“Yes, Craig?”
“Do you have some sort of weapon, a protection device. On Earth, we would have what we call Mace.”
“All arms, weapons, ammunitions, are illegal, Craig. I searched this Mace of yours. I am not equipped to spray.”
“Uh-huh,” he said. “But if you were used to protect, or at least momentarily immobilize, even if illegally, are you equipped?”
“Yes, Craig,” Tag replied. “Who would I immobilize?”
“There are workers here in grey uniforms.”
“Government employees, Craig. Even more illegal. Long confinement if caught. Possibly worse.”
Craig nodded. “So, we won’t get caught.”
To which, sadly, at least for us, Tag informed, “Probability of getting caught ranges from seventy-four to ninety-three percent.”
“What is the probability of an Earthling standing in a bathroom on Planet Six.”
“Infinitesimally small, Craig.”
Craig rubbed his hands together as his smile reappeared. “Yeah, there you go then.” He then turned to me and said, “Now all we need is a distraction, something to get that jumpsuited dude in here.”
We were in a bathroom. There were stalls. That was all. I walked into one of them. There was a bowl below and a bowl above, tissue paper off to the side. I assumed the bowl below was a toilet, the one above a sink. These people hadn’t invented the bidet, yet, or perhaps simply didn’t enjoy the technology. A wet asshole is not to everyone’s liking, after all. “Clog the toilet bowl,” I suggested.
He snapped his fingers. “Good idea.” He scooped up a massive roll of paper and stuffed it into the lower bowl. He looked around for a way to flush it, but there was none, and so, “Flush,” he said. Only, the bowl didn’t flush. Instead, the bowl lit up and the paper instantly evaporated. Poof!
“Cool,” I said, once again.
“Not cool, dude,” Craig said. “That was our diversion.”
“Oh yeah. Right.” I looked around. I stuck my hand in the bowl above, hoping I could somehow clog or break that instead. “Wash.” And no, water did not shoot out. Again, the bowl lit up. I assumed I’d just been disinfected and deodorized. Perhaps irradiated. I hoped for the former. “Damn,” I said, then added, “Tag, how is the door of this stall held on?”
Tag scanned the stall. “Magnetically, sir.”
“Randy.”
“Dictionary defines as impassioned, lustful, horny.”
I blushed. At a watch. Weird, but true. “Randy. It’s my name, Tag.” And frequently occurring adjective.
“Magnetically, Randy.”
I nodded. “Can you demagnetize it so that the door comes off?”
“Yes, Randy. Please move outside the stall and hold me up to the hinges.”
Which is just what we did, the door falling off in a loud clang a moment later. We then turned and stared through the wall behind us, the man in grey quickly appearing before heading our way.
“Hide,” Craig said.
Fortunately, there were stalls on either side, and so hide we did, just as the jumpsuited man walked inside.
He cursed, I think. Hard to tell, since he was speaking Planet-Sixian, but it sounded like a curse. Something, I imagined, along the lines of: what the fuck?
I crouched down. The stall door had a few inches of space between it and the floor. I stared at the man’s legs. I stared beyond at Craig, who was smiling and waving at me. I waved back. I pointed up. The man in grey was lifting the door from the floor.
Now, I mouthed.
Craig held his wrist out of the stall and whispered, “Immobilize government employee, Tag.”
Said government employee said something, something that again sounded like: what the fuck? Then he screamed and dropped the heavy door onto his foot. That is to say, he screamed and dropped once Tag shot out some sort of bright beam of light, which must’ve temporarily blinded the government employee, causing him to, you know, scream and drop.
That was our cue. We jumped out. The man was on the floor, one hand rubbing his foot, the other his eyes. He had a card attached to his jumpsuit. I grabbed it. Craig said, “Sorry, dude.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry.”
To which the man said, yet again, or so I’m assuming, something like what the fuck?
We were running across the cavernous station a moment later. “Open!” I shouted, holding up the card we’d stolen.
The hidden doors slid open. We, in turn, slid inside. I was huffing. Craig was puffing. I turned. I could see through the wall and beyond. The government employee had yet to give chase. I again turned around. We were in an antechamber of sorts. There were jumpsuits hanging from the wall.
“Put them on,” I said. “Then at least we can blend in, in case we run into anyone back here.”
He nodded. “Good idea.”
“Really?” I said, then smiled.
He shrugged. “Too bad it took hopping between universes for it to happen.”
My smile promptly flatlined.
We were dressed a few seconds later, the uniforms, like the clothes beneath them, shrinking and/or growing to fit our bodies. I held the card we’d purloined up to the material. It somehow locked onto it.
We turned, we ran out of the room and down a hall. There were no rooms, no doors, no end, but there were signs here and there, signs in a language we couldn’t, of course, translate. Well, not me and Craig, anyway.
“Tag,” Craig said. “Where is the entryway to the station platform that will take us to City Northeast Nineteen.”
Sadly, for us that is, before Tag could reply, a very loud alarm sounded, echoing down the hallway.
I looked at Craig, eyes wide. Craig looked at me, eyes wide.
“Fuck,” we both said in unison.
To which Tag added, “Probability of getting caught is now ninety-eight percent.”
“Shut up, Tag!” I shouted. “Shut t
he fuck up!”
Chapter 6
We jumped through the first entryway on our right. Amazingly, we jumped correctly. That is to say, we were on the platform we needed to be on. Two minutes later, we were on a train headed to City Northeast Nineteen. Actually, we were sitting in a massive metal box, on a seat, with hundreds of other seats on either side, staring through the metal to the landscape beyond. There was another row behind us that faced the opposite way. The seating condition was unnerving, as we were speeding at an impossibly fast rate while staring through the metal, which made it seem like there was no metal there to begin with, so that it felt more like a rollercoaster ride than public transportation.
It was late. We were alone on the train. “To recap,” said Craig, turning my way, “we’ve been on this planet less than an hour; we’ve mugged a government employee; stolen government-issued jumpsuits; have a veritable stranger’s credentials on us, namely Milo, who has probably been kidnapped; we’re on the lamb from the law; and our only friend in the entire universe—a universe not our own, for that matter—is a watch named Tag Heuer.”
I nodded as I ticked each item off on my fingers. “Yep, seems about right,” I replied with a grin. “But at least we’re headed in the right direction.”
“Presumably.”
I touched my hand to my chest. “I feel it, still. I feel him. I can’t explain it, Craig, but that connection of mine, of his and mine, is real.” I smiled, despite that fearful recap of his. “Trust me, we’re headed his way.”
He shrugged. “If you say so, dude.”
“That word not getting old yet?”
His shrug shrugged higher. “Nope. Not yet.”
Four minutes later, as Tag had foretold, we pulled into City Northeast Nineteen.
The doors, or whatever they were, slid open, and out we stepped into another station, an even larger one than before. And yet, once again, we were utterly alone.
“Strange,” said Craig.
“Yeah. I mean, I know it must be late, but how can we be the only people travelling? How can that one guy we mugged be the only person we’ve seen.”
His shrug reappeared. “Like I said, strange.”
We exited the station, emerging into a city illuminated by the lunar trio.
Our heads craned up. And up. And up even more.
“Holy cow,” Craig uttered.
“Um, yeah.”
Picture New York. Now picture the buildings of New York made completely out of glimmering metal, no windows, no doors. Now picture the buildings of New York twice as high. Got it? Yes? Okay, now also picture New York with no cabs, no noise, no people, and, lastly, no pigeons.
Eerie, yes? And, you guessed it, beautifully stark. This was like a coloring book version of a city: all outline, nothing filled in.
Craig pointed up. “They don’t need windows; you can see through the metal from the inside, obviously. And the doors are hidden. You walk up; they slide open.”
“But where are all the people who either live or work in these buildings?”
“Maybe everyone sleeps at night. Maybe everyone works nine-to-five jobs? Maybe they have a curfew on this planet, or at least in this part of it. Maybe it’s dangerous to be out at night?”
I managed a smiled as I pointed at the both of us. “Muggers.”
He also smiled. “Exactly.”
“In any case, we’re here, and so now what?”
“Tag,” said Craig, his wrist held up. “Where was the last location Milo was known to be at?”
“Milo was last recorded at approximately one Earth mile from here. City Northeast Nineteen is the fourth largest city in this quadrant, Craig. Perhaps, it would be easier if you let me lead the way.”
Craig nodded eagerly. “Yes, please, Tag. Also, Tag, where are all the people?”
“I don’t understand, Craig.”
“The people. Why are we the only people outside at this time?”
“I still don’t understand, Craig. There are other people outside at this time.”
“In this city?” I asked.
“Yes,” replied Tag as his scanner illuminated the space around us. “In a four Earth-mile radius, which is the limit of my scanner’s range, there are six people outside.”
“Not including the two of us?” I said.
“Correction then, Randy,” said Tag. “There are four people outside at this time, not including the two of you.”
I blinked. I blinked again. That didn’t make any sense. “In an entire four-mile radius?”
To which Craig added, “How many total inhabitants live in City Northeast Nineteen, Tag?”
“As of the last census, Craig, City Northeast Nineteen was the home to eight-hundred.”
Again, I blinked. Again, I blinked again. “Eight-hundred-thousand or eight-hundred-million?”
“No,” said Tag. “Eight-hundred.”
“In the fourth largest city in this quadrant?” I said, staring up at all the mammoth buildings, which stretched out in every direction as far as the eye could see. “What, does each person get their own skyscraper?”
But before Tag could answer, we heard, “There they are!” Well, it sounded something like that, anyway.
I turned and spotted three men, all of them in grey. Jumpsuits were apparently very popular on Planet Six. Craig and I looked at each other for a brief, terrifying moment before we took off running. I’d like to say we ran into the night, into the shadows, but Planet Six had three bright moons and reflective metal buildings. In other words, good luck finding a dark corner to hide in. I mean, the place was like Disney during the Fourth of July. Bright, I’m saying. A Klieg light should be so bright. Which is why we decided to simply run around corners, around buildings, to try and lose them in the maze that was this weirdly empty, massive city.
Craig suddenly stopped, both of us very nearly out of breath and very fully terrified. “I have an idea. Longshot, but we’re desperate.”
“Works for me.”
He nodded. “Okay, wait here.”
“Alone?” My mouth was so dry that it made the Mojave seem like the Mississippi in comparison.
He pointed to the nearest building. “I’m just going over there. Stay put.”
Again, I nodded and then watched as he ran to where the front door would be—had any of these buildings had front doors. He lifted his arms. “Open,” he said, and waved his hands. Nothing happened. The buildings, or at least this one, must’ve been locked. He ran back to me. “Now, you try.”
“You want me to give the building jazz hands?”
“Humor me, dude?”
I shrugged. It beat running like a chicken in a hen house. And so, I walked up to the building, flung my arms around, and said, “Open.”
Voila, the wall slid apart, revealing the inside. Thank the Lord.
Craig pushed me inside. I tripped and fell from the inertia. He tripped over me. The wall closed behind us. We were now both sprawled on the hard floor, but at least we were safe. He then pointed at the wall we’d fallen through. My heart literally stopped when we saw the three men who had been chasing us. They were milling around outside, looking everywhere for us. Craig put his index finger to his lips. Silence permeated the dark space around us, save for our breathing and my heart pounding in my ears.
A minute went by, two. It felt like hours. Still, eventually they disappeared from sight.
“Tag,” Craig whispered, “does a government employee card get you into the buildings?”
“Affirmative, Craig,” Tag replied. “Government employees have full access to all non-security buildings.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Multiple roles,” said Tag. “Government employees are similar to Earth police, Earth janitors, Earth mechanics. They require access. It is vital.”
I turned to Craig. The space around us was dark save for the meager light that worked its way to us from the outside. “I don’t get it. Why would a government employee need to have all three jo
b duties, and three that have seemingly nothing in common?”
Craig yawned, causing me to yawn in return. “Too tired to think, dude,” he said. “Been a long night.” He looked down at the watch. “Does this building have any beds, Tag?”
“Floors five through ninety, Craig.”
“Can you find us an empty apartment to crash in?”
“Floors five through ninety are vacant, Craig.”
Craig shrugged. I shrugged. We were exhausted. We were confused. Par for the course since we’d arrived. And so, we found the equivalent of an elevator and went to the fifth floor. There were no doors, just small plaques on the metal wall. By now, we knew the deal, and so with my ID card, I opened up two side-by-side entryways.
“I’ll come get you at daybreak, little bro. Maybe then, some of this will make sense. Better still, maybe we’ll be closer to finding Milo.” I started to turn, to go to find a bed, when I asked, “Can I have Tag?”
He nodded and handed the watch over. “Have him wake us in five hours. That should be enough sleep, and not too much time not spent finding Milo. Plus, hopefully, that will put five hours of distance between us and those guys in grey.”
I hugged him. I never hugged Craig. Now seemed as good a time as any.
“Weirdo,” he said, hugging me back.
“Nerd,” I said, and then turned and entered through the adjacent door, both doors closing in sync behind us. And yes, there really were no doors, but the correct wording, like most everything on the planet, escaped me.
The lights came on as soon as I entered. Not surprisingly, the apartment was, you guessed it, stark. In fact, it was empty.
“Bed,” I said.
A bed slid out from a wall. It was already made with a blanket and sheets and a pillow, of sorts. I had a feeling that if I asked for a sink or a shower or a stove, those too would appear. But I didn’t want any of those; I just wanted to lie down. And so I de-jumpsuited and de-clothed before hopping in. The sheets were smooth and silky and surprisingly warm, considering their thinness.
“Tag,” I said.
“Yes, Randy?”
I looked down at the watch. “You got any selfies of Milo?”
Tag didn’t answer, and no, a picture of Milo didn’t appear on Tag’s surface, nor did one project on the wall by my side. Instead, a 3-D image hovered just above me, Milo in profile, real as life, if not oddly illuminated.
