“Pump the trunk piston,” some killer from Earth said.


    The noise was abusive like a person repeatedly losing to a liquid powered hydraulic press


    in another room. Outside though all anyone could hear was the motor vehicle headed down the


    highway. In this case a ‘59 Galaxie. Inside the trunk, an innocent girl was knocked out instantly


    but the odd device pummeled her into a bump.


    “I wonder what she’ll feel like when we carry her from the car to the water,” the human


    said, “when I threw her in there she stood her ground for being so timid the entire time.”


    Her younger brother lightly smirked in the passenger seat. He was imagining a drape with


    a head.


    “What does that mean?” he asked. “Is the machine going to break all of her?”


    They both felt the Ford vibrating, but because alien technology was installed it could run


    practically unannounced.


    “Why do you think it wouldn’t?” the killer asked over the music.


    “I can’t ever talk to her again,” the boy whispered.


    Appearing around the curve of the highway was a super-lit, mega billboard. He could not


    help but gaze out forever through the window while the girl’s body continued to be mashed in


    the rear compartment. It was bigger than other ads, but not the biggest. As the images, numbers


    and wording came into focus a police unit raced past them, then turned on their flashing lights


    and siren, speeding away into the distance. The silver glow of the giant sign hit the hood of the


    car as he comprehended what he saw.


    There were huge Christmas colored bulbs around the edges while the background


    shimmered. Bright characters spelled ‘Call 999-666-333! Nothing Sounds Like Trunk Pistons!’


    above a short alien with its arms crossed, shrugging. Its sunglasses hid their eyes. All that


    remained was a car stereo silently playing music with animated notes fading in and out around


    the speakers. Just as the Galaxie cruised by the monopole he saw what looked like the same


    species from the display looking directly at him by the base near an open maintenance panel.


    Then it was gone.


    “Good thing that police unit got called because I didn’t know they were back there…I’m


    Moto,” said the driver. “After your sister sinks for a minute I will take you back.”


    “My parents were gone when we woke up.” The boy was speeding through thoughts.


    “I know nothing about that,” Moto replied.


    “Do you know my name?” he questioned.


    “You don’t have one.”


    “Does she have a name?” the nubile human probed.


    “Her name? Alpha,” the driver chuckled, “now it’s probably mMfph!ah!”


    Something about the revolting pressure his mouth made when he mocked her caused his


    passenger to worry. Dark swelling sounds echoed around the boy’s thought process making him


    uneasy.


    “Alpha,” the boy read.


    It wasn’t human, it was alien. She wasn’t a little girl! Like a supernova, his real name


    Beta, materialized into his mind. Was this the exact same reality or not, he needed to know.


    Although, there was zero information regarding turning into a human, waking up with a sister


    then getting kidnapped, and forgetting his identity. Except it came back. Her name is Alpha.


    Traffic was heavy but Moto wove through each lane, advancing so as to elude anything


    behind possibly in pursuit.


    “This is the exit ahead. 8C,” he announced like a chauffeur.


    His right hand moved from the steering wheel, gestured romantically, then popped the


    volume knob twice to shut off the piston. All Beta felt was a static sound of the radio replacing


    the terrifying feeling of his seat tickling him. They were going just over one hundred milometers


    an hour but had to slow until the older ride could handle the turn. Moto began patting the wheel


    again with both hands to the rhythm of a hit single.


    “The harbor is a maze,” Beta mouthed, feeling sadness profoundly at once as a human.


    “We’re stopping first,” Moto squinted while drawing his thumb and index finger down


    his chin a few times.


    The exit led to an intersection now based within the full density of Sector-0 on Earth.


    Streets with thousands of floors per block were quadratic and yet dim. Most things in the ward


    sector were delivered to residents directly from the harbor. Beta deliberately inspected the


    concept of disposing Alpha there, while the human seemed to be in more familiar territory. It was


    now clear to the alien that he’d awakened recreated hours ago.


    “Do you know which direction we’re going?” Beta inquired.


    Driving under another light, they were pushing deeper into the district, supposedly


    approaching the main harbor.


    “You know it!” Moto declared.


    He started to grin then put on the turn signal before arriving later at a random quad


    entrance illuminated by halogen and saturated with directions. Exclusive banners and streaming


    screens throughout the sector collapsed into just another node for navigating one’s way around.


    Cars were moving up the entrance ramp at a snail’s pace.


    “I’m going to fill up. Always wanted to get paid for something as simple as giving


    somebody what they’ve always wanted,” he added with slightly less exuberance. It was rare to


    refuel at ground level unless the government needed to.


    The radio frequency was silent. The stench of exhaust floated through the vents.


    “I get to keep this. She’s a button I had to press, I guess,” he concluded.


    Beta reached into his pocket and felt a ridge that rounded into a smooth rectangular


    shape. It was a card that appeared to be all he carried. Wrapping into the quad, the line of


    vehicles began to move as the arrows to the fuel station started flowing. Time was still standing and nothing made sense during the sequence of golden symbols sliding past his frame of


    reference.


    The corridors were sometimes dark tunnels, but coordinated like alleys. Wherever


    somebody could market their scams they did for the most part, even bathroom stalls. Along with


    faint traces of refined petroleum, the smell of food blended into the aroma within Moto’s newly


    prized possession. So much fascist architecture in S-0, Beta thought, and this detour for gasoline


    was like entering a military prison mall. A parking lot finally broke into sight above another


    ramp extending from the route they were on together. Both of them unbuckled their seatbelts and


    thought about their plans. Its slick cement, unlike the coarser road, was polished and buffered


    beneath rows of assorted transportation. It reflected several of the glowing aspects of the tucked


    away station.


    “I’ve never filled up at an empty one,” Moto said. The Galaxie pulled into a stall next to


    an unrecognizable hybrid made in another sector. Almost every line that ran the edges of its


    geometry was one color or another and energetic.


    “I’m going to ask someone what time it is,” Beta stated, then opened the door and got out


    cautiously. He scanned the area and gave the heavy metal car door a push, there was a decent


    amount of noise. Moto slammed his door, then stepped toward the trunk and glanced at it but


    nothing seemed off so he walked to the fuel booth to buy a credit. The mart was divided with


    multiple companies’ operations, even a hygiene group regulated the restrooms. Individuals were


    perusing to decide if they wanted a hot meal, snacks, beverages or countless other items for


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    personal use such as gifts, keepsakes and various imports. Auspicious security personnel looked


    like strong men who had on matching uniforms that adorned the logo of the principal company


    along with the other employees.


    There were no doors but as he entered he knew a computer could upload everything it


    was allowed about him in order to monitor his activity while Beta shopped. Something burned in


    his stomach, though he hadn’t eaten yet. The face of the girl he spent time brainwashed with


    before figuring out the truth kept persisting in his human mind. Looking right, a laminated poster


    featuring ecstatic children playing on a hill hung beside a narrow hallway where the bathrooms


    were. Aisles of packaged nutrients, pleasures, and supplies channeled him as his feet drug


    awkwardly while assimilating into the situation the best he could.


    “Every year I try to find them!” an alien no taller than he exclaimed at their companion.


    Beta heard the garbled comment wondering if they mentioned him, before knocking into


    a shelf full of artificial flowers. Inside was so bright. There were noises playing from various


    objects, screens showing rivals outselling their competitors, and all of it was loud. Even the


    words printed on thousands of tags hurdled their underlying messages through the heads of the


    clientele. Into the hall, a rosacea colored being in a single synthetic outfit left the restroom and


    brushed past the pale boy.


    “Would you tell me the time? Also the date?” Beta plead. The masculine figure stopped,


    staring out of the corner of its eye. There was a module on the alien’s chest that it reached for and then manipulated. Afterwards the red creature presented its hand to suggest Beta repeat


    himself.


    “Do you know the time and date?”


    He felt his body seized then pushed back against the wall in one swift motion from the


    stranger. They pointed over their shoulder at a giant digital clock that had a warm display. Beta


    noticed it was night time on the same day he would have guessed it to be. Optimism trickled into


    his body; reality may not be subjective and a better chance everything was still authentic.


    Perhaps it was just he and Alpha.


    “It’s because I forgot we’re in the simulation,” Beta growled.


    The rosacea colored punk smiled at him and looked down, then just stood there.


    Observing, the computer monitoring the station recorded this small event which it sent out


    silently. Around the world a web of programs now had it in their system.


    “You don’t just simulate the universe, creepy child,” he garbed.


    Beta shied away from the debate stunned, only to get part of an answer.


    Inching by the brute, he made his way, then entered the bathroom to finally be relieved.


    Alpha’s screaming before the button was pressed sounded eternal. He wondered if there was


    anything that reminded her of him. Perhaps she too did not notice. Crawling onto his hands and


    knees he hung his face over the bowl.


    * * *


    “Are you going to wake up?” she whispered. “I need to go outside. Someone is coming


    and trust me, this is real.”


    Beta laid there for a moment before opening one eye.


    “Would someone like you say that?” he replied.


    “While you were asleep, I was awake long enough,” her smile now faded as her eyes


    watered.


    “Am I part of this?”


    “Yes,” she promised.


    * * *


    Beta’s stomach shot vomit all over the back of the toilet and floor, where it spread


    until he was surrounded. The second burst was even more powerful but this time he tried to keep


    every pixel in one place while looking at the water. Spitting and catching his breath, the video


    screen behind the seat turned from scrolling advertisements to a healthy looking alien staring at


    the mess. It smelled like rot and looked like it could be toxic. The virtual hygiene bot lowered


    into a crouched position and took a very close look. He was interested in something from the


    beginning. Not blood, but high levels of hydrochloric acid. Beside Beta’s stall a staff member


    heard the eruption while cleaning the adjacent tiles and started mopping under the separation.


    “10 credits,” the Martian demanded. Intensely Beta thought, for not being able to control


    himself.


    His wet shorts were spotty from puke but he managed to wipe off his hands then remove


    the card from the pocket. It slid into the automated payment dock and quickly popped out. The


    alien saluted as the screen returned to normal.


    “You may wash your clothes and purchase a temporary outfit while these are taken care


    of,” the attendant said kindly, “down this row of stalls, around the curve, at the end of the next


    row is a wash bay.”


    “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I ate,” Beta apologized.


    Attempting not to fall into the puddle, his hand fiddled with the latch as he backed toward


    the privacy door. Sliding it up and over, the hinges released the panel. It was one of many stalls


    in the U-shaped restroom lined with male faculties which ergonomically supported the human


    and alien populations of Earth. A wash bay opened up at the end of the second row with one


    complete mirror extending around the U. The curve featured sinks, dryers, soaps, tonics, and


    toiletries, all vendable. Beside the wash bay was a mechanical wardrobe with an order screen.


    ‘One Size Fits All. Pull Thread to Fit After Wearing. 40 Credits’


    Beta’s card went in, then out. A purple strobe flashed for seconds before a seamless


    opening revealed a freshly pressed outfit hanging for him to take. He unhooked it from the


    hanger and deposited the recyclable tool back inside the wardrobe. A bin for broken hangers was


    sitting beside it. Stepping into one of the fitting spaces there was someone else behind another


    curtain who sounded confused.


    “When does buying a credit lead to a contest about what ride is better?” the human voice


    wondered. “Why would we just trade? The hybrid has everything the Galaxie has and we know


    that…I had just gotten used to it.”


    “Moto?” Beta asked softly. “It smells like gas in here.”


    “Huh? Is that you? It sounds like you, why are you here? I bought the fuel credit and


    some alien made me this offer. They said I could spend the credit on that hybrid we parked near,


    to keep it! All they wanted was the Galaxie…I tried to put fuel in it but sprayed gas all over


    myself…I didn’t understand the symbols or how to lock the hose properly.”


    “Alpha is in there.”


    “I may need to get the licence. Let’s get changed. Were you sick?”


    “Yes, I feel better now.”


    Beta looked at Moto’s pants on the floor. The key to the Galaxie was poking out of a


    pocket. Whether he wanted to, there was just no getting away from the ride to the harbor. Each of


    them adjusted their new clothing and walked out. Not one had mentioned anything about keeping


    their old attire, so Beta threw them into the washing machine anyway. Casually moving away, he


    tried to lure Moto.


    It was a sector where crimes occurred daily and most remained unsolved. Also, it wasn’t


    a sector where things were getting any better. He wondered though if there was a better plan.


    “If you have the new key we should leave,” Beta said, praying to never see what was


    inside the trunk.


    “I considered that,” Moto answered slowly, “but I haven’t traded yet.”


    “Why not take the hybrid for a test drive while I hang out here?” asked the alien.


    “That is a good idea…there may be something wrong.”