by A.K. Meek
***
The atmosphere outside the store swam in chaos, the inside of the store swam in tranquility.
Spirited electronic music wafted through the store from hidden loudspeakers. Happy people walked the aisles, browsing the varied selection of products. Bright, colorful toys covered every inch of floor and counter space. Stuffed bears, board games and mechanical Corinthian soldiers lined the shelves.
In the middle of the store, a large area was cleared of toys. There, dozens of customers gathered around the Menagerie display.
A virtua projector rotated through all the animals available as part of the Menagerie collection. The crowd cheered when the projector changed from one forever friend to the next. A snake spiraled a tree branch and people clapped. An old man whistled when the scene changed to a tan and black ferret that hopped along an invisible floor with a shiny toy in its mouth. Another spectator held up their ferret for all to see. The ferret faded and a small monkey appeared, swinging on a vine. A mom and dad gasped as the monkey swung right at their heads, but then laughed when they remembered the animal’s virtuality.
Another burly employee, similar to the one that guarded the front door, stood to one side of the display, arms crossed. His eyes shifted from the small crowd in the store to the large crowd in front of the store. Tim circled around the display to him.
“Excuse me,” he said.
The man jolted as Tim surprised him.
“Where do I get refunds?”
“Refunds for what?” the burly man said.
Tim raised his box. “For this. I want a refund.”
“What is it?”
Tim slid his hand along the beveled Menagerie lettering printed on the box. The employee huffed. “What’s in it?”
“A toad.”
Behind Tim, the crowd gave a collective ‘Ooh, yuck’. Tim turned to see.
A bloated, splotchy brown three-foot wide floating toad sat on a jagged, floating rock. Its thin, pursed lips barely moved as it croaked.
“No refunds for Menagerie, especially toads,” the burly man said.
The Big Decision
Tim caught sight of her on his way to work two weeks after he first talked with her. He didn’t let another opportunity pass to get the name of the girl with a squirrel.
When they reintroduced, she gave him her name, Maine, and gave him her profile number. Her Menagerie was named Maine Two.
For the next three hours in his work cubicle, Tim scoured Maine’s profile; family, friends, friends of friends, and favorite foods. After those three short hours, he knew more about the last 10 years of her life than he knew about the last week of John’s life.
During their second transit tube encounter, Maine had invited Tim to a housewarming party. She just moved into Babylon, the newest development in town, located in the posh northern section of Corinth. Her apartment: Tower One, floor 353, apartment 353-85.
Tim frequently dreamt of an apartment more than 200 floors above the street, but 300, unimaginable.
She also told him to bring his Menagerie.
