Category: Fiction Factor

Lenny looked out the window of his Level 73 unit and stared at the thousands of people gathered below. The funeral of Commander Shake was being broadcast live across the globe, and many in Pewter City chose to watch on the giant, 3D image replicator in the city’s center.

Commander Shake – the moniker this alien superhero had been given many years earlier – was dead. Whether it was due to a battle with the Lepidosaurians, a reptilian race of extraterrestrial assassins, or absorption of radiation from the many nuclear missiles he had exploded in space to prevent catastrophe, no one knew.

His lifeless body had been delivered to the amphitheater at Pewter City by his AI hovercraft, with instructions on how the funeral would be performed provided by a bright orange, cueball-sized orb that followed the Commander like a dragonfly.

Lenny remembered when he encountered the alien 20 years earlier. A strong line of tornadoes was headed for the heart of Pewter City, and Commander Shake was able to divert them into the clouds – causing them to disappear into harmless puffs of air.

As the danger passed and he floated down toward the spectators on the ground, Commander Shake liked to greet people and shake their hands – hence his name. A humanoid creature who never explained who he was or where he came from, he wore a suit that looked to be composed of azure-colored steel. His eyes glowed yellow and his lips – thin and black – would appear only when he spoke.

And as Lenny – a “street stray” as unhoused kids like him were called – stood in awe, the planet’s prime protector walked toward him, kneeled down, and extended his right hand.

Lenny shook it, and saw sparks of electricity crackling up Commander Shake’s arm.

Lenny recalls feeling a slight shock when he clasped hands with his hero, but was too mesmerized to pay it much mind. What stood out more than anything, though, was what the Commander said to him:

“You’ll make me proud someday.”

It was a bittersweet memory on a very sad day, and the days would surely become sadder.

And soon.

Without a guardian, what would become of Earth?

There was already chatter that the Lepidosaurians were preparing for another invasion, and this time there would be no Commander Shake to stop them. Plus, new threats were popping up everywhere, waiting patiently to attack an undefended planet.

As for Lenny, well, the thrill he felt when Commander Shake spoke him long ago had faded into shame and embarrassment.

There was so much chaos in his brain he could never stick with any job – or relationship – and his favorite form of self-medication came from a distillery.

That’s why he was in Level 73 housing, which was basically sleeping quarters that came with two boxed meals per day. He was called upon by officials from the Conglomerate of Nations only when odd jobs were required, and he feared that no jobs would be required after the Lepidosaurians were done.

Dignitaries gathered to speak words of praise about the Commander. When they completed their eulogies, his coffin was placed in the hovercraft, which now acted as a rocket.

Silently, the craft shot toward the heavens, and just as it began to fade from sight it exploded in a spray of light and color.

While the pyrotechnics were pleasing to the eye, most of those watching the event couldn’t help but think this was the end – not just the end of Commander Shake, but the end of the world.

Lenny – whose neck was starting to ache – had stared at the craft from the time it launched to the time it disintegrated, and there was nothing left to see.

Except …

As looked out over the horizon, he could see projectiles coming toward Pewter City. They weren’t the Lepidosaurians – that much he could tell – but he feared they were a vanguard of some other malevolent force coming in hot to take advantage of Commander Shake’s demise.

As he squinted to make them out, the buzzer to his unit sounded, prompting him to go to the door.

Surely he wasn’t being called into work with an attack imminent.

As he waved his hand to open the portal, he was greeted by an orange orb fluttering at eye level.

On the floor was a small box.

“Greetings, Lenny,” said a voice coming from the sphere. “Please place your right hand on the box.”

Lenny didn’t know if this was the same orb that always accompanied Commander Shake, but it looked identical. And while he had no idea what was in the box, he didn’t hesitate to follow instructions.

The moment he made contact, sparks of electricity crackled up his arm and the box opened. In it was an azure suit.

“The planet is in danger, Lenny. Commander Shake shook your hand for a reason, just as he shook the hands of all those who are now converging on Pewter City for a reason.”

Lenny turned to spy an army of “commanders” outside of Level 73.

He smiled.

“So,” he asked the orb. “What do I do now?”

“You suit up. Commander Shake said you’d make him proud someday. This is that day.”

Fred’s Pet World – situated snugly between Babs’ Book Store and Batteries, Batteries, Batteries on Canton Road – opened promptly at 9 a.m. on Wednesday, just as it did six days a week, Monday through Saturday. Proprietor Fred Vernon wondered how soon it’d be before it closed down for good.

A former software engineer who was obsessed with quantum mechanics, Fred soon learned he didn’t care for the rat race – unless it actually involved rats. He preferred to be at arm’s length from people and spend as much time with animals as possible.

So, he quit his job and sunk his money into Fred’s Pet World, which he likened to more of a rescue that a retail shop. He had no tolerance for puppy or kitten mills; his establishment served as something of an overflow when the shelters got full.

And he wasn’t interested in getting rich; he charged just enough to help pay for overhead.

Lately, though, there seemed to be a surge in people wanting to buy “specialty” animals. Most of the dogs in his care were mutts, and none of his cats would ever find themselves feted at a Cat Fanciers’ Association convention.

Still, he was going to do what he could for as long as he could, and on Wednesday morning he raised the interior blinds covering the inside of the main door.

He was surprised to see a customer (at least a potential one) with a small, pinkish poodle.

He opened the door, greeted her with a nod, and watched her head straight to a cage.

“What you got there, a couple of gerbils?” said the woman, probably close to 80 years old with cotton candy-colored hair and dark, drawn on eyebrows that looked as though they had been applied with a magic marker. She had also taken a fashion risk by rocking a pair of silver shorts and gold boots to go with her magenta blouse.

 “Well, they’re actually guinea pigs,” Fred said. “Somebody dropped ‘em off here, oh, two weeks ago, I guess it was. When a shelter won’t take an animal, I take ‘em and hope somebody will give ‘em homes. They didn’t have names, so I call ‘em Angus and Malcolm.”

“What’s the difference between a gerbil and guinea pig?” she asked.

“I think basically, guinea pigs live longer and they’re bigger,” he explained. “And they eat plants, while you can feed a gerbil insects.”

The woman chuckled.

“I know all that,” she said. “I was just testing you.”

She moved in for a closer look – as did the poodle, causing both Angus and Malcolm to survey the situation with wide eyes.

“Hmmm,” she said. “What’s that word you use to talk about things that you do experiments on … are they gerbils or guinea pigs?

Fred was puzzled by the question.

“Guinea pigs,” Fred said. “But none of these animals are used for experiments. I would never allow that to happen.”

“Good, good,” she said. “No offense. Just seems like humans don’t think too much of each other these days, so I can only imagine how they treat animals.”

The woman stooped down and put a gnarled index finger on the cage.

 “Can I let ‘em come up and lick my finger?” the woman asked.

Fred nodded.

“You can try,” he said. “They can get a little bit spooked, though.”

She leaned over and both Angus and Malcom eased closer, cautiously placing their noses on her finger.

To Fred’s surprise, both guys started purring, even after the poodle – Fandango – was introduced to them.

“They sure are cute little guys,” she said. “We’ve got dogs, cats, lions, tigers, ferrets, ducks, lizards, a three-legged deer and a wombat, and those are just the ones I can name off the top of my head,” she said. “To tell you the truth, I like ‘em better than humans – present company accepted, I’m sure.”

The woman made her way through the rest of the store, stopping to admire and “speak to” every animal she came across.

She held every kitten, and played with every dog. Finally, she circled back to Angus and Malcolm.

“How much …” she asked.

Fred smiled, held up his hand and cut her off in mid-sentence.

“Mostly I just want to make sure they’re taken care of and have a good home. Sounds like you have a zoo and – nothing personal – but if you have all those other animals, I don’t see how you can possibly take care of two more.”

The woman threw her head back and laughed.

“Sounds like you didn’t learn much from quantum mechanics, Fred.”

Fred understood how she might know his name, but how did she know about his education?

Before he could ask, she explained herself.

“I’m not talking about money, Fred,” she said. “I was going to ask how much convincing would it take for you and your friends here to join us on Anamalia. Look outside.”

Fred looked through the window of his shop and saw what appeared to be a snow globe on the sidewalk, pulsating with frantic waves of blue light.

Fred stumbled back against the wall.

“You’ve done admirable work here, Fred … admirable work indeed,” said the woman. “But you can make a greater impact somewhere else. I’m from a parallel universe where things are, well, a little easier for our furry friends. Just thought you might want to come with us, especially since you always hoped there’d be a place like this somewhere – and some time.

“You can work there and live the kind of life you want.”

Fred got up again and took another look at the globe.

“Is that …?” he asked.

She gave a thumb’s up.

“Yep, it’s one of those quantum mechanics deals you were tinkering with … something to do with the de Broglie wavelength or some such mumbo jumbo,” she said, producing a device resembling a key fob. “I have no idea how it works; I just know if I press this, we all make a jump – lock, stock and barrel.”

Everything seemed impossible, but as Fred continued to stare at the globe – an object that looked quite similar to one he had once constructed – the more the situation seemed far beyond some elaborate hoax. And even if it was trickery, what was the harm in going along with it?

Worst-case scenario, everyone has a big laugh at his expense.

Best-case scenario, Fred’s Pet World becomes part of a whole different world.

Fred walked to the counter, put his hand on the cage holding Angus and Malcolm, and flashed a toothy grin.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

Thursday morning, passersby walked along the Canton Road sidewalk as they usually did, glancing at the storefronts without giving them a second thought.

Still – for those who stopped long enough to notice – the empty lot between Babs’ Book Store and Batteries, Batteries, Batteries seemed out of place.

Why only yesterday, a store – some kind of store – had been there.

Hadn’t it?

The artificial tree appeared to be in decent shape.

There was some wear at the top – probably where tree toppers had gone on an off through the years – and a few limbs were missing their greenery.

It was slightly faded and damp, thanks to a recent rain, but the woman figured it would do just fine. She bent over, gingerly lifted it from its unceremonious spot next to the plastic green garbage can, and threw it in the back of her Ford F-Series truck.

The engine was still running; the old tan-and-brown clunker spat and sputtered every time she tried to crank it, and when she succeeded in doing so, it was always a small victory.

She didn’t know how long her “shopping trip” would last, she merely hoped the truck lasted long enough for her to complete it.

The tree was a good find from a decoration standpoint, but it was only part of the presentation.

She thought she had made her top find of the day a few blocks over – in the area she called “Ritzyville” – when she spotted a pair of scooters leaning against a recycling bin.

Both looked practically new, and she figured people who had manicured lawns and two-story houses could afford to upgrade their kids’ playthings every Christmas. But as she pulled over and tried to inspect, she noticed a couple of young boys staring at her from the bottom of the driveway.

Maybe the scooters weren’t left there for disposal, after all. Perhaps the kids were just taking a break. Regardless, their hard looks were enough to send her on her way.

Feeling a sense of shame was bad enough … she certainly didn’t want to be accused of stealing.

With a little less than two hours before her grandchild got home from school, she knew she should head back soon. But she needed more than a tree – she needed something to put under it other than the puzzle and small dolls she had purchased from the discount store.

So, she continued to drive through neighborhood after neighborhood, hoping something worth taking would catch her eye.

Ultimately, she came across a house in a cul-de-sac that looked as though it had thrown away the entirety of the holiday.

There was a “live” tree that had already turned brown and brittle, and box after box overflowing with bows and ornaments.

As she dug through the first box, she found a small, metal toy car that looked perfectly good except for a small scratch on the hood.

Another box had the pieces of a playhouse. She didn’t have time to figure out if all the pieces were there, but there were enough to assemble a nice little structure.

She even managed to pull out what she called “one of them electronic gizmos” with the back panel cracked and the batteries missing.

Shouldn’t be too hard to find a couple of “D” batteries, though. And a little tape would go a long way in ensuring the crack didn’t grow larger.

She moved some items from one box to another, and filled up one with her “prizes.”

If she left now, she’d have plenty of time to get home and get everything ready.

Later, as the bus rolled by abandoned houses and an overgrown lot full of junk cars, it stopped on a dirt road. There, a young girl jumped out, first checking the mailbox and then running straight to the door underneath the awning of the mobile home.

Once inside she spied a tree in the corner – decorated in red and green ribbons – and saw wrapped gifts placed underneath it.

She squealed with delight, ran to her grandmother and gave her a tight, lingering hug.

“I love you, granny,” she said. “All the other kids have already had their Christmas. Now you and me get to celebrate ours.”