* * * *
Carl awoke in a brightly lit white room. He was lying on a padded board resembling an operating table, which seemed to be the room's only furnishing.
What a crazy dream, he thought. I must've been hit by a car or something and they doped me up. That would explain a lot. He felt himself all over, but he seemed to be in one piece, and the only thing he could remotely complain of was a slight headache. He was just looking around for a nurse call button when he heard voices from outside the room.
"Do you think it will be conscious yet, Urble?"
"I dunno, Boss, and personally, I don't care. I'll have a yug-ache for at least a quarter-cycle."
Carl hastily lay back down and closed his eyes, just as the door opened, and Burff and Urble rolled into the room. He heard a scuffing noise, and then felt an inquisitive tentacle brush over his arm, coming to rest on his chest.
"Hmm, it appears the soporificizer was more effective than I thought. We'll check back in a while and see how it's feeling then."
Carl looked through narrowed eyelids in time to see Urble tenderly rub a spot indistinguishable from the rest of his brown exterior before following his superior out the door. Carl waited for a moment, breathing deeply and slowly.
All right, maybe I'm still dreaming. I'll just pinch myself and wake up, that's all. He pinched his arm. It was convincingly painful. Hmmm, it always worked in the movies. Still, he had to get out of this--whatever this was, and quickly!
He leaped up from the table and went to the door. It was painted a bright white, just like the rest of the room. He grasped the oddly-shaped knob and twisted slowly. It turned and he opened the door a crack. Looking out, he could see a hallway that was colored the same dusty brown as his captors leading off in both directions, and, most importantly, empty.
He slowly opened the door further, edging out into the hallway, alert for any sign of alarm. Hearing none, he shut the door quietly behind himself and examined the passageway. It stretched on in both directions for as far as he could see with odd-looking doors set at uneven intervals. He looked both ways, sighed, and then started off determinedly to the left.
The first door he came across was drab brown like the rest of the hallway, and shorter and wider than a usual door. Adorning the door was a strange looking symbol which resembled the silhouette of an overly large bean-bag chair in a tutu, tentacles spewing from everywhere, and a frizzy growth on the top. Most surprising of all was that there was no doorknob or any other visible means of opening it, except for a small, cone-shaped indentation.
He hesitated, and then put his little finger into the hollow. The door whirred open with a smooth motion, and with it came an odor not unlike singed flower petals. He stepped into the room. Inside he could see a large horizontal mirror set into the wall on the left, short, flattened booths on the right, and pinkish burnt umber tile everywhere. In addition, a shape resembling the symbol on the outside of the door sat in front of the mirror, complete with a dun frock, dark brown tendrils on top, and a red lacy something hanging unfastened from the front. A tentacle was applying a rose-colored dye to a spot on the bulk which seemed no different from the rest. Catching his motion as he entered, it turned to face him, and then quickly went a dark shade of orange brown.
"Oh, pardon me," he paused, glancing at the red lace, and then went on, "...uh, Ma'am. I thought this was the Men's room." He whirled around and dashed back out into the hall, only to collide with a large brown shape. He oofed and went down, flat on his back. He looked up to see an irate, if thrashing tentacles and a slightly orange hue indicated irateness, alien clothed in a sort of yellow toga. Apart from the toga, he could have been Urble.
"Hey, mac, why don' ya watch where yer...say..." the alien paused, looking Carl over. "You must be one o' them new guys they was telling us about, Nyrts, or something like that." He looked again at Carl, glanced at the door he had just come out of, and then back to Carl. "Oh, female, eh? Sorry...er... miss, but just between the two of us, you all look the same to me. Anyways, ain't you supposed to be in Sector 9 Level 4, according to the regs? Paragraph 3c, sub-section 2, clause F, I think it is..."
"Why, yes, I believe it is, uh, subsection 2,” Carl said uncertainly, “so I guess I'd better be going then."
He started down the hallway, then halted, and said, "Ah, which way is Sector 4 Level 9, by the way?"
"It's Sector 9 Level 4, and you're headed the right way already miss. Just turn left at the first intersection, go past the fruum-fruum bush, and it's the fourth door on your right. Boy, these greenies." This last was mumbled as he rolled down the hall the other way.
Carl kept on, passing numerous doors, many embellished with strange looking pictures. After a while he came upon an intersection. He took the left passageway, which seemed to have less doors than the main hallway. He passed several other aliens apparently identical to Urble, except for the clothing, which seemed to vary wildly with the individual. Some of them had spots here or there colored a bright shade, and their reactions to him ranged from mildly agitated tentacle waving as he came closer to convulsive writhing as he walked by. One of them twitched violently as Carl came near. Finally, he saw a violet hued clump of foliage off to the side whose odor was disturbingly similar to the perfume his great-aunt always wore.
He counted four doors and stopped, facing a door bearing an untranslatable alien scrawl, and paused. Well, I suppose there's only one way to find out... He paused, taking a breath, and then slid his finger into the small depression, waited as the door slid aside, and stepped through.
He was in a large room bustling with movement. Large brown individuals moved everywhere seemingly without purpose, but with great vigor. They clustered around small mounds placed at random about the room which seemed to be the focal point of activity. The mounds were mostly covered with odd looking piles and heaps of varied substances. As he stared, dumbfounded, a gruff voice spoke up at his shoulder.
"Hey buddy, what do you think you're doing out here? Get back to work!"
He turned to face a heavier than usual looking alien who had a dirty length of cloth tied so as to hang down the lower half of his front.
"I'm...new here. I'm a, ah, Nyrt," he hazarded.
"Yeah, I can see that, you think I'm blind? I guess you'll need me to show you the ropes. Follow me." He turned and headed off towards a door set in one of the walls. Carl hesitated, and then trailed after him.
They stepped through the open doorway into a room filled with steam, the clanging and clattering of metal, and a decidedly off-color smell vaguely reminiscent of garden mulch. A counter with a window opening into the room outside was covered with stuff similar to that on the mounds, and other aliens wearing soiled browns served it to possibly eager-looking patrons outside. The beefy apron-wearer walked to the rear of the room, turned, and looked back to face Carl.
"This here is the washer," he said, pointing with a tentacle-tip at an abandoned looking metallic bulk in the corner. It resembled a grimy and badly dented clothes dryer. "You put the cutlery and stuff in here," he continued, indicating an opening in the front, "and then you push this button to start it going. After it's done, come get me, and I'll give you your next job."
"What about the little switch near the back?" he inquired attentively.
"That's the maintenance switch, but if you have any problems, you tell me and I'll take care of it, understand?"
"Yes, of course," Carl said quietly. The alien left, muttering.
He looked around and spied a large pile of gooey looking metal utensils of strange design. He sighed, and then looked behind him. The cook was at the front of the room, blocking the doorway, yelling something and shaking a serving item at one of the assistants who was at the counter. Carl looked back to the machine, eyeing the switch, and then flipped it up. A small service cover fell open, exposing a bewildering and dusty array of strange looking coils, oddly colored wires, and several glowing tubes. He stared for a moment at this disorderly display of gadgetry,
and then noticed a small access panel almost hidden at the back where the device met the wall.
He reached through the wiring, fumbled at the panel for a moment, and then smiled as it came away, revealing a small, dark crawl-space leading back into the wall. He glanced again to the front of the room, where the servers were still passing out unidentifiable portions to those waiting. The cook was momentarily out of sight. He squeezed himself into the service opening.
He wriggled through the electronic innards, twisting to face the open panel set in the wall, and then his shoulders caught on a black cable snaking across the confined space. For a single instant everything seemed to close in on him, and then he slid around it. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and then worked his way into the crawl-space.
He was in a ventilation system of some kind, perhaps for cooling the machine. The duct was about two feet by two feet, and the walls were made of some sort of smooth, resilient, material to which dust adhered. It went on for 20 feet and then angled up.
Just then, the light from the open service cover was eclipsed, and a surly voice called out.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing in there?"
Carl scrabbled forward, and then awkwardly up the incline, hearing hoarse yells behind him. As he finally reached the top, he stopped, panting for breath, and then noticed that there was light coming from the floor of the conduit just up ahead. He crawled to it carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible in the restricted space. Upon reaching it, he discovered that it was a grating set in the ceiling of a room. The room below contained an alien sitting on a sort of stool in front of a console, tentacles busy tapping keys and buttons, and occasionally stopping to pat the dark brown tendrils on top. He caught a faint whiff of burned foliage.
He brushed at the grating in search of a latch, and in doing so sent a small cloud of dust up into his face. He gasped, eyes watering, and then let out an explosive sneeze, falling forward onto the grating. The grating, evidently flimsier than it looked, promptly gave way and he dropped onto the floor below with a painful thud. He groaned, and sat up to look into small black eyes that gazed back at him from above a section of brown skin dyed a rosy red, and as he did so, he heard a giggle.
"Well, if it isn't the wicked boy from the restroom. I don't believe we were properly introduced."
"I, ah, my name is Carl, but I've got to be going, Miss..."
"Vicrona Verrusa, but you can call me Vicky. All of my close friends do." She sidled forward. "You looked so handsome when you tore open that grating and forced your way in here..."
"Forced my... But I didn't!" he protested, backing away, "I sneezed and fell through it!"
"But you can't tell me that your little 'visit' awhile ago was an accident," she twittered, waving one tentacle tip back and forth.
"Actually, it was, and--," he bumped up against the wall behind him. Vicrona reached out and pulled him into a close embrace. "Hold on here! I don't even know you..." he said indignantly and a trifle muffled, "I'm not that kind of...um...Nyrt and--"
The door opened and an aproned figure burst into the room.
"Vicky, I was wondering if you've seen..." he trailed off, taking in the scene. He went a dangerous shade of deep orange and advanced threateningly, pointing a tentacle at Carl. "You!"
Carl gulped, making vague motions with his hands. "Wait, I can explain everything. This... this isn't what it looks like. Actually, I'm not even sure what this does look like...but it's not!" He attempted unsuccessfully to disengage himself from Vicrona's loving caresses, while the jealous cook closed the gap.
In desperation, Carl kicked out with his foot at the console. He connected with a large blue switch which clicked and the room went black. He squirmed out of Vicrona's tight embrace, and started to crawl in the direction where he thought he remembered seeing the door, hearing the voices of Vicrona and the jealous cook behind him.
"Oh Carl, you naughty boy..."
"Vicky! Where is that little..."
He reached the door, and began feeling around on the wall next to it.
"Now Rukky! There's nothing to be upset about. I was just...helping him."
"I'll say you were helping him! When I get my tentacles on him, I'll..."
"Rukkil Rondhornt! You'll do nothing of the sort!"
His finger slipped into the hollow and the door slid open, revealing blackness. He crawled through, letting the door shut on the still raging quarrel behind him. He stood up and started slowly feeling his way along the wall.
He heard a shuffling noise somewhere behind him. It seemed to be trying to match its noise with his footsteps, and was only partially succeeding. He started moving faster, and the pursuer speeded up as well. He pictured a large brown monster, hunting him down in the dark. He began to run, only a moderate jog at first, and then faster, and faster still, in response to the scuffling behind him that seemed to be getting closer.
Suddenly, he slammed into a wall, and went down. Frantically, he shook his head, trying to clear it, and sat up, feeling around for a door. Finding a hollow, he placed his finger inside, and heard the accompanying whir of a door sliding open. He scrambled through and something brushed the back of his head just as the door closed.
Abruptly, it was quiet, and he stopped, listening. Silence, and then the door whirred open. He got to his feet, feeling around for a wall, just as the lights went on, and something woolly grabbed him around the neck.
"Ah, there you are," said an oddly familiar voice, "We were beginning to wonder where you had gone." The tie-dyed, bereted figure of Burff stood before him. "Urble, release him!" Carl looked down to see green and purple wool remove itself from his neck.
"I just want out of here, that's all!" Carl said nervously, backing away.
"Look, mac, all we wanted is--"
"I know what you wanted! Something to study and dissect. Well, I'm nobody's lab assignment!" He looked to see Urble and Burff coming closer.
He paused, an idea forming, and then groping in his pocket came out with his fountain pen, which he held extended before him.
"Hold it right there! Stay away from me!"
"Now now, my boy, no need to act rashly...," cautioned the senior alien.
Carl turned to aim the pen at Urble, who was sliding slowly towards the door. The latter jerked, and began motioning his tentacles shakily.
"Now look pal, there's no reason we can't be friends, right?"
Suddenly, the door slid open and Rukkil rushed into the room. He stopped, then seeing Carl, leaped towards him. Carl shied, squirting ink on the front of Rukkil, and dived off to the side. Rukkil fell past him, landing heavily, a black stain down the front of him.
"You've poisoned him!" squawked Burff. "And we were just trying to inform you that you are to be released to your autochthonous milieu."
"He means," whispered Urble, "that we'll take you back home."
"Why didn't you say so in the first place? And what about studying me, and all that?"
"Well, it seems the chief flubbed," murmured Urble under his breath, "and this wasn't even the right locus, but we didn't find that out until you'd already escaped, which we didn't think you were smart enough to break out of there."
"How could you poison poor Rukkil like that, without feeling?" said Burff, still sounding shocked.
"Ah, well, actually, it isn't poison, it's ink," admitted Carl, giving Rukkil a prod with his foot. The latter stirred, groaning slightly. "See?"
"Hmmm, yes, I suppose you're right. Still, no need to have frightened me like that, that is, if I had been frightened."
"I dunno Chief, I haven't seen you so scared since the time you--"
"Quiet, Urble!" Burff paused, turning to face Carl. "Now, as to getting you back..."
The door opened, and a familiar odor wafted in, followed by Vicrona. She saw Carl, and let out a happy squeal accompanied by sinuously wriggling tentacles.
"I'd like to go as soon as possible!" he stammered.
* * * *
He was standing once more by the large maple tree. With Burff and Urble acting as bodyguards at his pleaded request, he had managed to evade Vicrona's affection, and they had transported him back here, without fanfare, using the same strange method of transportation they had employed upon their first arrival. He sighed, and began walking home. Lucy would never believe this. In fact, he was starting to wonder if he should tell anyone about it.
Walking in the front door, Lucy met him with a kiss and a smile.
"You look wonderful Lucy!" he said, breathing her perfume in deeply.
"You had a good walk I take it?" She smiled, and then reached behind herself. "I have a surprise for you," she said.
"Oh really," he said, smiling back, "and what could that be?"
"You keep saying you've almost worn them all out, so today I picked you up a bunch of new ones," she beamed, handing him a package.
"Oh," he said, opening the package, "you mean my socks? Yes, I..." he trailed off, staring.
"Dear, what is it? I thought you'd like them!" she said worriedly. "Carl?"
But Carl just continued to stare at the half open package whose purple and green argyle contents spilled out onto the floor around him.
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