+++

The pod lids opened and an African guy was staring back at them.

Before Trig or Salvo could stretch their arms or share with each other how weird the induction video was, he was already yapping away like an insurance shark.

‘Incredible, Chinese faces. First time in twenty-seven years, according to available records.’ He grinned, tapping the lids of both pods. ‘I’m assuming one of the science teams opened the portal to your neighbourhood and did a Pied Piper shift to get you back through. That’s what happened with the last guy. Or maybe you were on holiday in one of the feeder states. My own beloved Tanzania, perhaps?’

Trig looked at Salvo, who had already forced her away out of the pod and was now stumbling back into the alcove like a dizzy drunk. The African guy…or Tanzanian guy, apparently…noticed she’d got behind him and turned, putting his arm out to stop her going too far.

‘Slow down, comrade, we’re just getting started. Gotta get through the FAQ and give you the map pads before we go pinballing around in that chaos.’

‘We’ve already been out there,’ said Trig, stepping out of his pod and instantly losing all mental bearings. Fortunately, the Tanzanian guy was fast enough to grab him and keep him upright.

‘In a delirious state, sure, but what I’m talking about is real exploration. Now, I’ll allow you back into the alcove, that’s okay. Correction, that’s more than okay, it’s routine. Unless they’ve modified things and not put it in the database.’ He paused, looking left. ‘No, confirmed, it’s still routine. Wait, wrong input. Hang on a second. Checking. Yes, confirmed. It is routine. Okay.’

The Tanzanian guy smiled, more apologetic than jovial.

‘Sorry, I’m a bit haphazard, haven’t been activated for this kind of duty in a long time. Usually, they go with the Icelandic girl for humans. Something about her eyes looking kind and soothing. But I’m here so I guess she’s off-line right now. Or malfunctioning.’

‘I don’t-…are you the hologram?’ stuttered Salvo, leaning sloppy against the alcove wall and rubbing her temples.

‘Ah, your first question. Good. Means the brain is coming back.’ He held out both his hands and made a whistling sound. Two electronic pads appeared out of nowhere. ‘Here, take these. Green dot activates it, swipe screen for the rest. Don’t worry, the menu is pretty self-explanatory. Basic Qs, my profile, map of the station, alien profiles, DA-BOT history, taxonomy and rules of engagement, time differentials, music archives.’

‘DA-BOT?’ Trig took the pad, looking for the text explaining even one of the things he’d just heard.

‘Okay, I can see by your squinting that all this is brand new. Let me guess, you didn’t get picked up at all, did you? No, you must’ve chanced your way into the welcome port somehow…then had a re-con shepherd bring you over here.’

‘Re-con shepherd?’ Trig played the word back in his head, having a pretty good idea what it was referring to but not completely sure. ‘You mean the human or the aliens?’

‘The one who picked you up from the portal lobby and got you here.’

‘Katya…’ said Salvo, looking up from her own pad.

‘Ha, Katya. She’s still here? Basha. I remember when she first came, swore to Baba Yaga she’d be gone after the first mission. It is the same Katya, no? Blonde hair, tall, serial killer face.’

‘She was Russian,’ replied Trig in a flat tone.

‘Good point, that was a vague description. Let’s see. Did she try to get away from you at the earliest possible opportunity?’

‘Not the earliest…’

‘But she was impatient to leave?’

‘Sometimes. After the green mist thing.’

‘Nah, it’s her, it has to be. No other Katya in this place, and I would’ve heard if we’d got a new one. Man, it’s good to know she’s still around. Really good. I should go up to the loop lines later, see if she’s still knocking it out at Yum La.’ He coughed, noticing that Trig and Salvo were still there. ‘I mean, we should go find her. I assume you like her…or she must like you if she gave you her name. You do like her, no?’

‘Actually, we’re not gonna be around later,’ said Salvo, leaving the wall, wobbling a bit then stopping completely. ‘We’re just here to pick up our friend and then we’re going back home.’

The Tanzanian guy frowned, then whistled again. Two jets of mist came out from the wall near Trig and Salvo, startling them at first, then confusing them as the particles started to take solid form.

‘Don’t shit yourself, they’re just seats.’

‘Made of mist?’

‘The malleable kind.’

‘Real mist?’

‘They’re ready now, sit. No, not real mist it’s…ah, forget it, you don’t need to know exactly what it is, just sit on the thing and take a few breaths.’

‘It’s definitely solid?’ asked Salvo, touching the fuzzy-looking entity that was allegedly a seat.

‘I believe your finger just answered that.’

She nodded and sat down, carefully then comfortably. Trig stayed on his feet, looking at the pad again.

‘Okay, now that we’re settled, names first, then the rest. I’m Jemba, your personal holographic guide. You are…’

‘Salvo.’

‘Trig.’

Jemba repeated them out loud with an uncertain tone. ‘Those are Chinese names or…’

‘English names.’

‘Ah.’

‘It’s normal in Hong Kong to choose one, I don’t know why.’

‘We have Chinese names too,’ added Salvo. ‘But they might be hard to pronounce.’

‘What, harder than a Canni Tut first honorary?’

‘Err… I don’t know what that is.’

‘You will later.’

Jemba tapped the pad on Salvo’s lap then clapped his hands together.

‘Okay, Trig, Salvo…down to the details. I don’t know how braindead you were in that induction presentation, how much sank in, but there’s one rule you’ve gotta know straight off the bat. If you wanna go back home, you’ve got to do a mission first.’

‘I remember hearing that,’ said Trig, vaguely gesturing towards the pod room.

‘Yeah, hearing it is fine, but it doesn’t always sink in. And you don’t know what missions are yet, so…basha, I told them it was pointless putting it in there, but they’re traditionalists, they never change anything. Okay, fine. The missions. Sounds scary, but in reality, they’re pretty relaxed. Especially the first one. They give you a memory patch, one month only, no need to do any huge tasks, just kind of exist and work as you would back home.’

‘Hold up.’ Trig waved his pad in the air. ‘What mission? To where?’

‘I’m probably going too fast. Sorry, it’s just…it’s been a long time since I’ve performed this role, I’m a bit rusty.’

‘You said that already.’

‘Maybe it’s easier to do it with the pads. Or just leave it to tomorrow. That’s when you have to choose your mission portal. Nah, no need for that face, Saldo, it’s nothing dramatic. You just choose then come back out here, relax for a bit. Adjust to station life. You know you’ve got two weeks before you have to do the first mission. Do you remember that from the presentation?’

Salvo stood back up, holding out her pad to Jemba.

‘Nah, it’s yours, comrade. You don’t need to give it back.’

‘I don’t care about missions. I just want to find our friend and go. Can you help us?’

Jemba ran from puzzled to more puzzled to camp counsellor in the space of three seconds, punctuated with a hand clasp at the end. ‘Okay, I can see this is getting a bit messy. Let’s slow things down a bit, take it easy. You guys must be thirsty. How about some water?’

‘No.’

‘Trick?’

‘Trig.’

‘Sorry, Trig. You need anything?’

‘Our friend’s location.’

‘Ah, you too.’ Jemba turned his head and scratched the back, as if he specifically wanted to show them that action. ‘This is a bit irregular. In fact, I’m not even sure what you mean about your friend being here…but…okay. As you both look so resolute. Why don’t you tell me about this friend of yours, and I’ll see what I can do?’

Salvo cleared her throat, badly, forcing another four attempts to actually get it clear. ‘His name’s Cav. He came through the portal before us, by accident-…’

‘About a day before us,’ Trig interjected.

‘Yes, about a day. Give or take a few hours. And we think he came here too, but no one’s told us anything about him.’

‘Ah, one whole day…’

‘He’s probably in a bar or café somewhere, knowing him. If you can help us look for his name on this pad, we can go get him. Then you can teleport us back to Hong Kong.’

Jemba took the pad from Salvo and swiped his finger across the screen numerous times, his expression remaining consistently blank. Finally, he made a rasping ‘ah’ sound and handed the pad back.

‘I’m sorry, but there’s no Cav on the new arrivals list.’

‘How is that-…’

‘Are you sure?’ asked Trig, finishing Salvo’s line in his own way.

‘My holographic eyes never lie. Don’t panic though, he’s probably used a different name. All we need to do is find one of the HR guys after the tour and ask them if any humans have been here in the last month or so.’

‘Not last month, yesterday,’ corrected Trig.

‘Yes, that’s correct…in Earth time. Here it would’ve been a month ago, give or take. Depending on when exactly he came in.’

‘How is that possible?’

‘You really didn’t retain anything from that induction, did you? There’s a time difference between all worlds, most of them moving slower than the channel on this station. Sorry, they use the word channel for this kind of talk. You get used to it. Basically, according to the timeframe you’ve given me, your friend is already on a mission.’

Salvo’s face morphed into the same expression as the anime-style koala on her t-shirt, minus the leaf hanging out of her mouth.

Trig didn’t have quite the same level of shock, but he wasn’t far off.

‘However, like I said, all first missions are pretty sedate. Almost never any fatalities, and those that do happen are usually drunken accidents. He’ll be fine.’

‘What are these missions?’ asked Trig, regaining a little bit of composure. ‘What is he doing exactly?’

‘Big question. And one that is in the FAQs, I believe.’

‘Can’t you just tell us?’

‘In a clear and concise way, probably not. I mean, I could give it a shot, but you’ll be squinting and saying ‘what’ a lot at the end of it.’ Jemba took Trig’s pad and played with the menu a bit before handing it back. ‘There. Take a seat and read that. It’s not too long.’

Trig looked at the seat, but still didn’t trust it. Besides, Salvo needed to read the pad too and it was easier if they both just stood.

‘What are the purposes of the missions?’ he started out loud, eyes running top from bottom on the pad.

‘Eight different portals, each one fixed to a location outside of the Five-Planet Alliance jurisdiction,’ continued Salvo, already halfway down the first column.

‘Streams of renegade DA-BOTs, cunning and dangerous, IQs the equal of an average human…’

‘Observe how the native elite treat their workers and organised labour unions…’

As they read, Jemba walked along the border of the alcove, his left hand playing with his right, either shaking it on purpose or stopping it from doing that naturally. After a few minutes, the last thirty seconds of which he mumbled out loud, he turned back to Trig and Salvo and asked them if they’d got it yet.

‘This is insane,’ muttered Trig to the padd.

‘A strong reaction. What about you, comrade Saldo?’

‘I don’t get it.’

‘Which part?’

‘Almost all of it.’

‘I’m gonna need some specifics.’ Jemba stretched his fingers out, cracking the bones. ‘In fact, this is taking up more time than it should. We should be on the tour of the station by now, which is the fun bit by the way. Did you know there’s a book centre where the books can be acted out with you in it? Not you participating, but with all the characters going-…’

‘These missions,’ said Trig, cutting off Jemba’s rhetoric mid-flow. ‘It says the first one is only one month.’

‘Ah, back to the missions. Okay. Yes, the first is a month. In fact, all of them can be one month if you wish them to be. Or six months. Or a year. Or a ten year slog, which is basically a prison sentence. I definitely wouldn’t recommend that one.’

‘Okay. One month. And the point of the missions is to gather information on…these other worlds.’

‘Among other things, yes.’

‘Like capturing robots…’

‘DA-BOTs. Capturing or terminating them. But I wouldn’t dwell on that part, it’s way out of your league at the moment. Out of your friend’s league too.’

‘Okay. Then what is Cav doing on his mission? Observing?’

‘And where is he?’ added Salvo.

Jemba’s face flickered, maybe anger, maybe a glitch. ‘As I already explained, I don’t know. I mean, the first one, yes, he’s observing, which is completely safe ninety-nine point nine per cent of the time…but his whereabouts, no idea. Again, we’ll have to check with HR for that, find out what name he’s using. But I assure you he’s perfectly safe.’

‘Where’s HR?’

‘Outside.’

‘Outside where?’

Jemba pointed to the main room outside the alcove.

‘It’s in here? The same building?’

‘Yes, on the second floor. But we don’t really have time for that right now, I have a schedule here that I have to-…’

‘Wah, what are waiting for?’ asked Salvo, looking directly at Trig. ‘Let’s go and ask them, then get Cav back.’

‘Look, Saldo, your friend is fine, I assure you. There’s no need to-…’

‘Which desk?’

‘Desk?’

‘The HR desk, which one is it?’

‘You can’t just go up there randomly and disturb them. They have a system, appointments they have to deal with. Not to mention remote monitoring of mission crew.’

‘Okay, I’ll ask that guy over there.’ Salvo pointed vaguely at the nearest figure, but then her brain caught up with her resolve and she realised it was a no-legs alien. Dropping her hand and scanning quickly, she spotted a replacement, someone a little more familiar. ‘No, we’ll ask that one…the Curly Wurly guy.’

‘The what?’

Salvo dodged round the side of Jemba and headed over to the Curly Wurly alien, who was standing…no, swaying…next to what seemed to be a floating terminal nearby. For reasons probably relating to alien whimsy, the terminal surface was shaped like a fallen cello.

The alien didn’t notice her approach, nor did they notice when she was standing right behind them, so she cleared her throat to rectify things. Again, it took more than one hakk to achieve zero grog, probably because she’d only drunk a quarter glass of alien raspberry juice in the last six hours.

‘Hello again…’

The tulip head part of the alien swivelled round, grew another eight or nine inches [it had been slouching, obviously] and potentially looked down at her. It was hard to tell, there were no visible eyes. Just strips fluttering. Dark brown strips.

This was not the same alien as before, the shorter, gentler-looking one that had helped them into the pods.

It was the sadistic prison guard version.

Or that’s what it felt like.

‘Err…’

Salvo tried to get out her question, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Her brain was too busy telling her to run.

‘Your hologram is not here,’ said the alien finally, their tulip strips fluttering on the sides as they spoke.  Or transmitted.

‘HR…’ Salvo stuttered, trying to bat away images of Venus fly traps in her brain.

‘I do not understand.’

‘Looking for it…HR…our friend.’

‘This is not HR.’

‘Hey, sorry about this,’ said Jemba, sliding over and doing a circular rotation of his torso. ‘She’s still a bit flustered from the transfer.’

‘It is not the set pattern for her to be here.’

‘I know, she’s a bit out of sync. I’m trying to get her back on track.’ Jemba held out his hand to Salvo. ‘Shall we go back to the alcove, sit down again?’

‘Ask him…’ Salvo replied, ignoring the hand.

‘Who?’

‘Him, the alien.’ Salvo stared directly at the centre of the tulip-head, the confidence returning to her voice now that Jemba was there to act as a defensive shield. ‘Ask him where our friend is.’

The alien swayed backwards, one of their strips covering their middle part. ‘My species does not have the human gender concept.’

‘Sorry, seedling mistake. She hasn’t covered alien profiles yet.’

‘There is no offence.’

Jemba put his right arm out straight, flipped it sideways and moved it down diagonally left with a dancer’s flourish. Craning his head upwards, he addressed Salvo. ‘You still want to do this now?’

‘Ask the question.’

‘What was your friend’s name again?’

‘I told you, Cav.’

‘Okay, give me a second. I need to fit this delay into our schedule.’

‘How long will that take?’

‘Let me have a go,’ said Trig, sliding into the space between them, his eyes on the electronic pad. ‘Taa’aa sheeesh. We are looking for our friend. He came here yesterday, in Earth time. Can you help us?’

The alien returned to their normal position and resumed swaying. ‘You are an adept learner.’

‘I just looked at the pad, your profile…’

‘Saata’ksh aaa’t kahaaashaa’ta.’

Trig looked down at the pad and did some quick swiping, finally acting out the facial approximation of a shrug. ‘Aavaaat’aa ka’aat,’ he said, in a very human-sounding accent.

The alien’s tulip tilted to the left, their petal strips visibly vibrating.

‘What’s going on?’ Salvo whispered into Jemba’s shoulder.

‘Formalities.’

‘You mean Trig is actually speaking their language?’

‘Err…not exactly. I think he’s just reading out the list of common greetings from the pad. Excuse me, how are you? nice to see you. In truth, his pronunciation is awful, but the sentiment seems to be appreciated.’

Salvo looked at her own pad, frowning. ‘I don’t get it. Wouldn’t their translator just translate our excuse me into their language?’

‘A version of it, yes, but it wouldn’t mean much to an Asaaaaa.’

‘Huh? That’s their name?’

Jemba nodded. ‘They would understand the concept, from experience, but no more than that.’

Salvo stayed with her pad, swiping across to the alien profiles tab.

‘Too vague? Okay. Look at it like this. In their language, politeness is expressed differently. The word choice, the syntax…it stems from the idea that they command the immediate space around them. Example, the phrase Trig started with, if translated directly back into English, would be something like ‘share your space.’ In Chinese, probably the same.’

‘Share your space…that means excuse me to them?’

‘It is synonymous.’

‘But…I still don’t get it. If I say excuse me in my language, wouldn’t they hear share your space in theirs?’

‘Not necessarily. There are many factors, like connotation and…yeah, many factors. Listen, it’s a lot to get your head around. There are translations that are dynamic and complex, and others that are direct, literal. Between humanoids, it’s mostly dynamic, very accurate, because a lot of our concepts are similar, but with the exotic aliens…’

‘It’s half-assed?’

‘Well, in a word…yes.’

‘So how do we understand them at all, if it’s like this?’

‘Due to their language tailoring, mostly. Choosing neutral words, foregoing slang, idioms etc. Of course, their sentences still sound a bit odd to us, but god knows what we sound like to them.’

Salvo sucked in her bottom lip, which was her way of saying I still don’t get it but I’ll pretend to cos this conversation will be endless otherwise, and then looked back at Trig and the alien.

The conversation was on its last legs, Trig pulling a few more alien pleasantries out of his ass [or from the list on his pad, the cheating bastard] and the alien responding with some symbolic swaying. After that, the alien consented to check the database, and quickly came back with a result.

‘Your friend utilised the name Emma Goldman.’

‘Who?’ asked Salvo, looking at Trig, who was equally puzzled.

‘Not the anarchist Emma Goldman,’ muttered Jemba to no one.

‘Anarchist is not recorded in the databank,’ replied the Asaaaaa.

‘Where is he now?’ asked Salvo, going direct again.

‘Based on record, he is currently operating in the Mezta Yat Portal.’

‘Wah, another portal?’

‘Correct.’

‘Is it safe?’

‘In what context do you mean this?’

‘Huh?’

‘To your effort,’ said Jemba quickly in Asaaaaa language, performing another sway rotation and then pulling both Trig and Salvo back towards the alcove. ‘That was a bracing experience,’ he muttered.

‘He went through another portal?’ asked Salvo again, shrugging off Jemba’s hand and stopping by the alcove entrance.

‘Yes, to Mezta Yat. A common choice for first timers. Especially humans.’

‘Can we go and see him?’ asked Trig, holding up a hand of gratitude to the Asaaaaa, then dropping it when he realised he didn’t know the way to symbolise ‘thanks.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘This Metta Yat place, can we go there and visit him?’

‘And bring him back,’ added Salvo.

‘During a mission? No, no, no…he has to see out his month. After that, he’ll come back and then you can see him. Besides, if you went there now, he wouldn’t recognise you.’

‘Of course he would, we’re best friends,’ said Salvo, scrunching her nose bridge [a little melodramatically].

‘Not in his current state.’

Trig’s eyes went instinctively down to the pad. ‘The memory patch?’

‘Ah, you’re finally taking some of this in. Yes, the memory patch. Every new arrival uses one on their first mission. Then, when the month is up, their old identity resurfaces and they come out.’

‘So we have to wait for him to finish?’

‘That’s what I’ve been saying.’ Jemba’s eyes closed briefly, his hand going up to his temple and hitting it. ‘Yes, yes, before you ask any more obvious questions, why don’t I just continue based on assumption, okay? Let’s see, he came about a month ago…’

‘Actually, it was around 4am yesterday.’

‘What?’

‘We got a message from him around that time, and he was near the portal.’

‘A video too.’

‘Sorry, I have no reference for the specific time zones on Earth. How many hours between when he came and when you arrived?’

Trig looked at Salvo and waited for her to figure it out. ‘Around seventeen or eighteen hours, I think.’

‘Okay, we’ll go with seventeen. One hour on the Earth channel is around one point six days here, which means…your friend has been on our side for…twenty-seven point two days.’

‘Almost a month.’

‘Fourteen days for acclimation, thirteen days on the mission…that leaves another seventeen days before he gets out.’

‘We have to wait seventeen days to see him?’ Salvo couldn’t keep her voice steady, in fact, she didn’t even seem to care enough to try.

‘No. More than that.’

‘What?’

Jemba resumed the hitting of his temple, possibly annoyed at hearing what for the seven hundredth time. ‘In fourteen days, you will have to go on a mission. Three days after that, your friend will return here. The times do not match.’

‘Can’t we wait three extra days and then go on a mission?’ asked Trig.

‘Or just go home with Cav?’ added Salvo.

‘Not allowed. Every new arrival needs to accept a mission after fourteen days. No exceptions.’

‘But…’

‘No buts. It is the rule of the station.’

Trig shut his mouth and looked down at the pad. Salvo closed her eyes and muttered to herself in Cantonese. It wasn’t as quiet as regular mumbling, so Jemba and Trig were forced to listen to ‘this can’t be real’ over and over and over until the hologram gave up on his own head beating and decided to stage an intervention.

‘Look, I know it seems bleak, but it’s really not. In fact, in an objective sense, you’re all set. Your friend is on a mission in one of the safest portals, no one’s missing you back home because of the time difference, you have an exciting new station to explore, and you have me to guide you around it. And in six weeks, you’ll see your friend again…with lots of stories to share. ’

Jemba manoeuvred himself between Trig and Salvo and placed his hands on their shoulders.

‘Come, load up the maps on the pad and let me show you all the good stuff Dah Station 7 has to offer. What do you say?’

‘Do we have a choice?’

‘Ha, that sounds defeatist, but I detect the secret excitement in your voice, Trug.’

‘Trig.’

‘Sorry, Trig. And you Salvo, are you done with your muttering?’

‘No.’

‘Fine. Five more minutes. Though I doubt you are capable of sustaining it that long.’

Salvo opened her mouth to prove him wrong, but in truth, he was right. She didn’t like muttering for a long time, and there wasn’t much they could do about the Cav situation anyway.

But still…

A mission, a memory patch, only the occasional fatality…

Was he really okay?

And more than that…was any of this even real?