+++

The route to the Enrolment Centre was a short one.

Out of the Language-Implant Centre, left at the end of the alley then a short stroll down the inner ring.

That’s what they were told anyway.

Of course, when they actually reached the end of the green-lit alley and looked out at the lunacy of the inner ring, everything quickly became scattered again. The same number of aliens scrambling about as before, possibly more, the same manic swerving, the same sense that this was an alien shopping mall set on triple human speed. The only discernible difference was that there were more humanoids mixed in now, possibly an intentional soothing strategy from station command. If there was a command. Or a strategy. Or if anyone beyond the Russian woman even knew they were there.

‘How far is it to the Enrolment Centre?’ asked Salvo, standing infant-like on the tips of her shoes to try and see above the crowd.

‘Nothing worth putting a number to,’ replied the Russian, adding something inaudible to the Curly Wurly alien standing near the end of the alley. ‘Just keep your head down and don’t bump into anyone.’

‘What if they bump into me?’

‘Then you say sorry and move on.’

‘Even if it’s not my fault?’

‘Unlikely.’

‘What do you mean?’

The Russian woman looked into the crowd, scanned for a moment then pointed out one of the atom-stalk aliens. ‘That one there…Canni Tut…has no concept of fault. Only intent. Did you mean to bump into them or did they mean to bump into you? Do you want to start a fight with them or do they want to start a fight with you?’

‘I don’t get it,’ replied Salvo, rubbing her hand against her jacket.

‘Then leave it for your hologram. This way. Stay close. No clinging.’

Shifting nonchalantly out towards the centre of the floor, and dodging a no-legs alien in the process, the Russian enigma continued on without looking back.

‘I guess she’s used to being followed,’ muttered Salvo, shifting a hand to her armpit and rubbing the edges of it.

‘You okay?’ asked Trig, observing her.

‘Fine.’

‘We can stick to the outside lane again, the quieter part…’

‘It’s okay. I’m better now, fully acclimatised. Really.’

Trig gave a slight nod.

‘Wah, she’s already that far ahead…’

Salvo edged her way into the main traffic, narrowly missing one of the atom-stalk aliens zooming past, and quickly settled in behind two humanoids with red skin. Trig hurried after her and took up the same channel. For some reason, the red-skinned aliens could get away with walking at the pace of an elderly person, which was lucky as it gave them both an opportunity to have a proper look at their surroundings.

It was at once a surreal and familiar place.

Archetypal and alien.

Mundane and outlandish.

And that was just the basic infrastructure.

Since they now possessed the translation upgrades, the signs around them became comprehensible, despite the script remaining in its original, alien form.

Or perhaps legible was a better word than comprehensible as the names on the signs were a little odd.

Bar Trauma

Give you Language Two Way

Upward Health Centre

Learn Trv Station

Those were just a few of the places they could see, though Bar Trauma was the only one that dazzled enough to make them step out of their protected spot to get a better look.

‘What a bland name,’ said Salvo, deadpan.

‘Looks kind of like a Wan Chai bar,’ replied Trig, looking at the higher part of establishment to see if there was another floor. There was, a narrow balcony not that far up, though only one customer was currently up there; a no-legs alien with two, fizzing, test tube-shaped glasses.

‘You think they serve human drinks?’

‘There are humanoids inside.’

‘Yeah, but are they drinking human drinks?’

‘Not sure.’

Trig brought his gaze back down to ground level, seeing if he could pick out anything recognisable. Actually, the place as a whole wasn’t that exotic, not from a distance of five metres.

A typical Earth bar, counters of varying sizes, metallic tables, drinks in glasses, groups of humans and humanoids drinking and chatting together. The foreign aspect came when you got to the other patrons. Aliens with gas tubes running into their heads…or what appeared to be their heads…the octopus-riding-a-huge-atom-stalk-ball type of aliens bathing their tentacles in tanks of purple liquid, with darker purple chunks floating around inside; a Curly Wurly alien folding themselves backwards into a twisted arch and…exercising?

‘Wah, she’s waving at us,’ blurted Salvo a little too loud, tapping Trig on the waist. ‘We better catch up.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Don’t want to get bumped into.’

‘Nope.’

Trig took one step forward to follow Salvo then another step sideways to pull himself closer to Bar Trauma. Deeper inside, beyond the surface drinkers, a small crowd had formed, and through the gaps he could see a pair of atom-stalk aliens sliding around a small hole in the floor.

He moved another step, then shifted his position so he was looking through a gap between two humanoids.

No, it wasn’t a hole, it was a groove…like an inverted lump…and the atom-stalk aliens weren’t just sliding, they were circling each other, and then halting suddenly. Then sliding again. Then halting.

Each time they did this, the crowd went quiet, as if bracing for an attack. After watching for a minute, Trig noticed that he was doing the same thing; his breathing becoming faint, his palms moistening, yet he had no real idea as to what was going on.

‘Is it some kind of game?’ he asked, and when he got no answer, he turned and saw Salvo with dai pai dong face, walking back through the pedestrian river towards him. ‘Sorry, I was watching the-…over there, the thing in the bar.’

‘No time.’

‘It looks like some kind of game…I don’t know, it’s hard to tell from over here. But it’s really tense. My palms are almost sweating.’

He held one up, and it was instantly swatted away. ‘Forget the bar, Katya’s starting to get pissed off.’

‘Who?’

‘The earphone thing.’

‘Huh?’

‘Who do you think? The only person who actually talks to us here.’

Trig vetoed more like scolds us and frowned. ‘You got her name?’

‘Yeah, if you’d been over there, maybe you would’ve heard it too.’ Salvo put her hand out to grab his sleeve then pulled it back in fast as another alien whizzed by. ‘Fuck, this place is annoying. You coming or not?’

‘Right behind you, boss.’

‘You better be. The sooner we get this hologram, the sooner we can find Cav and get out of this weirdness.’

‘You don’t sound very relaxed anymore.’

‘I’m very relaxed,’ she replied, her voice over the top fierce.

Another classic Salvo trick, Trig thought. Exaggerate the tone and hide the feeling. Or a classic human trick really. After all, he did it too sometimes. So did Cav. So did most people he’d met.

He blinked, realising his eyes were back on Bar Trauma.

‘Okay, now I’m not,’ said Salvo, wiping her hand on her jacket again. ‘Stop gawping at the drunks and start moving those skinny legs. Or I’ll do it for you.’

Trig raised his hands in surrender and let her guide him across the throughfare. The corridor. The promenade. The riptide. Whatever name they gave this thing. Judging by the signs they’d seen, probably something insane and inverted.

Eventually, they made it back to the outer lane, and then to the circular hole in the wall that was apparently the entrance to the Enrolment Centre. That’s what the sign next to it said anyway. Nothing on the walls to explain what exactly they were being enrolled for, but that would probably be explained soon enough. Or forced on them as an unorthodox procedure and then explained afterwards.

‘I see you found the bar,’ said the woman now known as Katya, her arms folded and a very cold cup of something still lodged in her hand.

‘Sorry, my fault,’ answered Trig, half raising his hand like a shy schoolkid in class.

‘My last bit of advice. Avoid Bar Trauma, it’s chaos.’

‘I saw that.’

‘Full of hedonists and post-mission wind-down crew. If you want peace and quiet, go upstairs. Lots of restaurants, more humanoids, a few tranquil bars in the loop lines. Tranquil meaning you can actually hear the other person talk.’

Trig nodded, resisting the urge to ask what a loop line was. He did want to, of course, but Katya’s face looked volcanic, and Salvo’s wasn’t much better.

That red light effect must be wearing off, he thought, adding a second, more exaggerated nod just to be safe, and instantly getting a jab from Salvo.

‘But that’s for later,’ continued Katya, wincing at whatever she was sipping from the cup. ‘All you need to focus on now is this place.’

‘Enrolment…’

‘Yeah, don’t mumble it out loud, it’s weird. And don’t mouth it either.’

‘Err…’

‘And no err. Come on. They’re already expecting us. Or expecting you. They don’t really give a shit about me.’ Another sip, a slightly less disgusted wince. ‘Fuck, I hate baby-sitting.’

‘Is it…’ started Salvo, cut off by a swipe of Katya’s hand.

‘No more dialogue, we’re going in.’

‘Okay.’

‘And no talking to anyone inside.’

‘Got it.’

Trig tried to echo a got it of his own, but stopped when he saw that Katya was already five metres in and Salvo was tugging at his sleeve. ‘You don’t have to keep doing that, you know?’

‘No talking to anyone inside…’

‘Yeah, I heard.’

‘Right.’ Salvo let go and headed through the doorway. ‘We’ll see.’

‘What? I’m anti-social, remember?’

No answer.

‘Kind of,’ he muttered, pulling his sleeve straight and following her in.

+++

The interior of the Enrolment Centre was much more generic than the other places they’d seen up to that point, but still possessed an ineffable air of alienness to it.

Mainly due to the fact that there were aliens staffing the place.

Trig looked around, performing a quick count.

Seventeen in plain sight, maybe a few more in those shadowy alcoves cut into the back wall.

‘This feels like the immigration centre,’ whispered Salvo, pushing her fringe to the left, and tutting when it lapsed back again.

‘A little bit.’

‘Only without the immigrants.’

‘Yeah, seems to all be staff, wearing the same outfit.’

‘Not a lot of exotic aliens either.’

Trig did another count, this time cataloguing species type.

Salvo was right, the majority were humanoid; their heads and limbs and body shape roughly the same as humans, with only a few lumps or ridges here and there to mark a difference. One or two had no differences at all, at least on the surface. Maybe that female by the console had three breasts, or that androgynous person with the pad had spotted skin, there was no way to tell unless they suddenly ripped off their outfits and advertised it directly.

‘Are all these aliens from different planets?’ Trig asked, leaning against what he hoped was a stable console.

‘Obviously.’

‘Which ones? Are they far away?’

‘That is a question for your hologram, thank gods.’ Katya held her hand diagonally left and up in the air then sliced downwards. ‘Here, this staff will help you set things up.’

‘You’re going?’ asked Salvo, looking over at the two humanoids and one Curly Wurly alien coming their way.

‘I should’ve been gone half an hour ago, but someone side-tracked me with sexual consent questions.’

‘Sorry…’

‘Ah, don’t do the apology shtick. We were all new once. I’m just not trained for babysitting, that’s all.’

‘You did okay,’ said Salvo, attempting a smile. ‘Besides, we won’t be here long. We just want to find our friend then we’ll be going.’

‘Ha…not without a mission under your belt.’

‘Mission?’

‘Ah, big topic. Shouldn’t say that.’

‘What mission?’

‘Like I told you already, that’s a question for your hologram.’ Katya stepped to the side, allowing the Curly Wurly alien she’d called over enough space to slink into. ‘See you in the loop line sometime.’

‘Wait,’ said Salvo, but it was no good, the non-human Russian was already on her way out of there, leaving them alone with another alien who didn’t seem interested in communicating with them. And Katya had told them not to talk to anyone inside.

Naturally, there was an awkward span of silence.

Background conversations became audible.

Salvo put her hands in her jacket, started scrunching up the inside of the pockets.

Sensing another panic attack from his friend, Trig cut the cord on Katya and quickly piled through the list of greetings and body language freshly implanted in his brain, but oddly enough there was nothing for this species. Nothing for the other exotic aliens either. Maybe humans were incapable of those body movements.

Ah, did it matter?

The two Curly Wurly aliens they’d met so far hadn’t been aggressive or rude, and this one seemed to be smaller than the others. Not quite as low as Trig’s 182cm, but not much bigger. And its tulip head petals seemed to be a paler shade of brown too.

‘Please, come over to this alcove,’ said the Curly Wurly alien in words that weren’t words but, thanks to the new implants, were easily understandable.

‘Are you the hologram?’ asked Salvo, hands still buried in her jacket.

‘No, no.’ The alien paused then added another, much more lethargic, ‘no.’

‘Err…okay.’

‘I am the one who shows new arrivals to the alcoves.’

Salvo nodded, tempted to say ‘and then…’ but deciding against it. When dealing with aliens, better to say nothing, she instructed herself. At least until you know their sensitivity levels.

Trig, on the other hand, had no such qualms.

‘What else do you do, apart from show people to alcoves?’

‘People?’

‘New arrivals.’

The Curly Wurly alien swayed to the left, detaching a strip of skin and swishing it over a green light on the wall. As a consequence, the eight alcoves lining the back wall did absolutely nothing. They were wide open and doorless before the swish and they continued being wide open and doorless after it. Whatever function the green light served, it was certainly covert.

‘We help to enrol new arrivals and set up their hologram guides,’ said the alien finally, entering the alcove.

‘Ah, and that’s the thing that will tell us everything,’ Trig commented, peeking round the corners before trailing them in.

‘Yes, yes. Yes.’

‘A hologram person?’ asked Salvo, perched at the alcove entrance.

‘Person?’

‘A human…like us.’

‘The selection will be made according to your initial scans.’

‘You mean-…sorry, I don’t understand. Scans of what?’

‘On arrival, two were scanned during the translator implant. The hologram will be extrapolated from this detail.’

‘Wah, she didn’t say we were scanned too.’ 

The Curly Wurly swished its arm-strip over another green light and this time it had a palpable effect; part of the wall faded out of existence, revealing a small, dark room within. ‘Step to the left, please, into the pods.’

‘Pods?’

‘Step to the left. Inside. You can see.’

Trig and Salvo followed the first part of the alien’s instructions, and then ran a preliminary search for the pods they were supposed to enter. The lighting wasn’t great, similar to a planetarium, but after fumbling in the dark for twenty seconds they managed to strike gold. It was an arbitrary thing, too, as it turned out the pods were propped up vertically against the side wall, not laid flat across the floor as most human movies would depict.

‘Like a standing coffin,’ mumbled Salvo, hands now out of pockets and knotted together.

‘Yeah. Quite creepy. How are we supposed to open them?’

As soon as Trig asked the question, an extremely dim light activated on the inside.

The Curly Wurly alien made a circular motion with its arm strip. ‘You have ten seconds to conquer your fear, then I can insist that you climb inside.’

‘We’re not scared,’ said Trig, putting a hand flat on the top of the pod to prove it. ‘We just don’t know what this is for.’

‘To facilitate the induction presentation.’

‘That happens inside these pods?’

‘Yes, yes. Yes.’

‘For how long?’

‘In standard humanoid time, twelve minutes.’

‘Does the top part close on us?’ asked Salvo, putting her fingers between the base and the lid of the pod, and trying to pry it open.

‘Yes, yes. Yes.’

‘I thought the hologram was going to induct us…’ Trig arched his neck back and peered into the main alcove area. There wasn’t much to see, just two fuzzy green circles planted into the wall, which he assumed were the alien version of computer screens.

‘Your hologram will be ready when you exit the presentation.’ The Curly Wurly Alien bent forward and to the side, the same strip of skin as before sliding over the pod and triggering something to open it. ‘Ten seconds have elapsed. Please, climb inside and prepare for induction.’

Salvo stood statue still, only making a move to her pod when Trig was halfway inside his own.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, trying on a reassuring voice, ‘not that comfortable, but okay.’

‘I’m not scared,’ Salvo said, ‘I just don’t like being trapped in small spaces.’

‘Maybe we can ask them to scan you with the red light again.’

‘No, I’m not that bad.’

‘You sure?’

‘It’s only twelve minutes, right?’

‘That’s what they said.’

‘And it’s just a presentation.’

‘Hopefully.’

Salvo hooked her leg into the pod, jumping a little when a spurt of gas shot out onto her ankle. Steeling herself, she forced her other leg in, then the rest of her body, and, as a shaky finishing move, reversed her back slowly into the rear cushion of the pod.

Trig was right, it wasn’t the most comfortable thing ever, but it wasn’t a medieval rack either, so she settled in as best she could and concentrated on controlling her breaths as the lid closed in and shut out the entire universe.

As soon as it was sealed tight, the Curly Wurly Alien faded out of sight, the pod tilted diagonally and the dark background morphed into light.

Images appeared, then a voice.

‘Welcome to Dah Station 7, new arrivals.’

Something about the voice was soothing, like Morgan Freeman reading out a Yoga manual, so Salvo stopped worrying about her breaths and focused on the presentation.

Dah Station 7…what a strange name.

Buddhist perhaps?

‘Whatever planet you are from, you can find a home here. But enjoy our rules. It is a must for all. Practice mutual acceptance of other alien species. Do not ask questions that also appear in the FAQ guide, this will be rude and annoying. Cautiously enter all new spaces. Attack with reverence and apt body movements. Avoid doors that will not let you in. There are some. Don’t fear.’

The monologue continued, moving awkwardly from topic to topic as if it were written by seventeen different people from seventeen different countries with seventeen different agendas.

As a result, the images that swirled around the pods were equally disjointed, some pleasant and soft, like the exotic aliens and humanoids swaying next to each other in a kind of greeting ritual, while others were stark and foreboding, like alien figures being stamped with neon blue bars and disintegrating.

Neither Trig nor Salvo could rotate very far in their pods, nor could they reach up high enough to see each other; in truth, they no longer knew where their pods were as they seemed to be moving position constantly. However, none of that was a problem as the presentation was utterly engrossing.

Odd, but engrossing.

‘Specifics of location for your personal map. Dah Station 7 is located in the orbit of an Outer System Dwarf Planet in the Dap Notta System. A co-operative of five alien races – Trv, Nabian, Terzo Collective, Pos Pos, Kontolian –  the station is dedicated to a pursuit of Scientific and Technological knowledge, Diplomacy and Intergalactic Peace and Security. In some alien cultures, these words translate as despotism, but that is not the case here. The station can defend itself if necessary.’

There was a pause in the narration, coupled with the image of a white moon exploding.

Then a melody started to play.

A soft, gentle tune that sounded a little like a hymn both Salvo and Trig had been forced to sing at school. Jesus Jesus something. They couldn’t remember the name of it, but they knew it had made them deeply bored at the time.

Now was a lot better.

‘Listen. As a new arrival, you are a guest on Dah Station 7. Enjoy the rules and facilities on the two lowest floors. Do not attempt to access others. Drink in Bar Trauma or rest in your dorms. Walk the loop line. Eat alien cuisine that can match your stomach capabilities. Observe the planet surface outside. You have two weeks. After this, you must with certainty choose a mission. Do not fear. Missions are a form of pride. The first one is one month duration and rarely fatal. Savour it. Training will tell you more.’

Trig squirmed in his pod, not liking the word ‘fatal.’ Salvo didn’t like it either, but didn’t squirm as she assumed they wouldn’t be there for that.

Two weeks to find Cav.

Didn’t seem too hard.

Probably wouldn’t take more than two minutes once they had their hologram to help them. Hopefully it would use less jarring sentence patterns than the narration they were currently being treated to. Or maybe not. Maybe that was true Dah Station 7 style.

The voice continued, oblivious to the thoughts of its viewers.

‘You miss your home. It is common for an average of three hours. Some aliens despise their home and never want to go back, others are nomadic, so if the average seems low to you then those aliens are to blame.’

The image of several planets flashed up in different parts of the room, each one growing large for a second before shrinking to the size of a malnourished dot.

‘Do not panic in those three hours. Dah Station 7 has enough diversity to distract you. One difference is very important and that is time. Your world and this station are certainly not on the same channel. One day in your time channel could be one year here. Typically it is faster on this channel, but not always. Be prepared.’

Trig stared at the naked humanoid template to his left, watching it slowly grow a beard. The words had filtered in too, but slowly. Time may not be the same here as on your channel. Meaning Earth.

‘If you have responsibilities back home, take breaths. Your absence will be invisible. After one mission complete, you may return home. Your familiar ones will say what are you doing, it is only two days, stop touching me. This is a temporary action. Most arrivals will choose to stay and do more missions. The pursuit and apprehension of DA-BOTS is alluring. Finally, they will achieve the designated target number. Their ID will turn them into a citizen of Dah Station 7 with free travel to selected worlds in the five alien co-operative. That is a good dream.’

He tried to work it out in his head, but all he could think of was a book he’d read a few years ago. The Forever War by some American guy. A man goes off to fight aliens, comes back and discovers hundreds of years have passed.

That couldn’t be the case here though, he told himself. If it were, Salvo would have an aneurism. And he’d lose his job at Zinc Burger. His sister would probably miss him too. At some point. Would she?

A bright red light shocked him back to the presentation.

‘Scared to die? Do not be. You will be upgraded with intriguing tech. Only certain scenarios will get the best of you. Accidents are a constant surprise, no time to endure pain. Good news. Fail permanently and you may continue beyond the missions. Others will recall you from time to time. It is very touching. Bar Trauma has impressions of our martyr heroes on its wall. But please, dying is rare. Do not spend magnificent time on it. Therapy Centre is free if necessary. Dating Centre is on the Second Floor.

Remember: Dah Station 7 is a compassionate place. A secure place.

Believe in these words, they are very true.

Now, new arrivals, it is your hologram time. Listen to them. Query within reason and schedule limits. Do not attempt to pass your hand through them, they are solid light. Enjoy the rules and first two weeks. Prepare for your mission. Sleep many times.

Nabian motto to you: death is the weight of a neutrino.

Trv motto: no black hole with a smile

Repeat them. Learn more.

Ending.’