Would you read this story?

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How does this sound?

An admiral of an alien fleet, who had been exiled on Earth for giving orders which he actually did not give, finds himself among humans and living from paycheck to paycheck. Himself telepathic, as is the rest of his species, he is continually annoyed by how almost every human is a liar - except for one woman whom he falls in love with. When she is suddenly taken from his life, he makes it is mission to find her killers and make them pay, only to discover how sinister his own kind really is.

Yeah, I would say push it and drag it as far as it will go; it sounds interesting to me.

Cool. I've done most of the pre-writing work for the novel and some of the scenes already. Thanks, I'll continue this.

How'd he get the telepathy?

Certainly I would. Are you writing it?

I was, but didn't really get very far. I'm going to try to finish Falling Into Space now that I have a working computer again, but here is what I had gotten as far as that story here goes:


Exiled: Abandoned, but not forever


“Bombard a planet? Of our nearest ally? Prime Minister, I'm sorry. No!” said Admiral Mikael. The screen went blank and his quarters went dark. “What?!” he shouted. Stumbling in his dark room, he made his way to the door and tried to open it, but it was sealed. Everything off, the only light he had in his room came from the small window of thick plastic – the other side of which was the vacuum of space. His view of stars flashed into blinding light and then the pitch black of FTL.

Mikael pounded on the door of his quarters, but nobody responded. Another flash of light from the window, meaning the ship had arrived. Outside loomed the planet Pyrodatum. His ships flashed out of FTL and began firing salvo after salvo of atomic death upon the helpless world below. The admiral watched helplessly as Pyrodatum burned to cinders with flash after flash of each missile reaching yet another city of millions.

“No!” screamed Mikael, “why are you doing this! This is wrong!” Punching helplessly at the controls of his communication device, he yelled at it, “work already! Cease fire! Stop! Please just stop this now!” The lights in his quarters resumed and guards at once entered his quarters.

“Admiral Mikael sir, for war crimes you are to be tried, you are under arrest.”

“What? No! I didn’t give the order, I refused to!” said Mikael.

“The entire fleet saw you over the com system, don’t bother lying. Make this easy, sir.”

“I had nothing to do with this! I’m innocent!”

“He’s crazy” said one guard to the other.

“No I’m not, and that’s insubord…!” Mikael started to say as he was shot with an electrolaser and incapacitated.

Awaking in an infirmary, Mikael started to move and couldn’t. They had him secured to an operating table. He saw one of his wings upon a table next to him and started screaming. The doctors looked blankly at him and one adjusted a control to an intravenous line leading into what had become of his arm. Desperately trying to move, he fought the anesthetic as long as he could but soon passed out regardless of his efforts to stay awake.

Next he awoke in a forest, somewhat cold, surrounded by green conical trees and trees that had no leaves. Obviously a habitable world, but the gravity was heavier than he was used to. He tried to fly to no avail, reminding him of the brief yet painful memory of the operating room he was in. Looking at himself, he had two arms ending in hands with five fingers each. Instead of feathers, he had some sort of light fur that looked like brownish mold. Gross. He still had two legs, but could see what his talons now looked like as they were encased in some sort of artificial housing with a tough underside.

“What did they do to me?!” he said. As he thought about everything that had happened, water started flowing from his eyes. “Oh come on, what the heck is this!” he said as he wiped the water away.

Looking around, he saw some sort of cargo pod next to him. Opening it, a hologram was emitted. A holographic recording of the Prime Minister appeared and then morphed into the form of some other alien creature, not unlike his own kind except for the gloss black feathers and sharp pointy beak, and it said,

“I am not your empire’s prime minister, but as you can see I’ve taken over the job for him. My name is Gebril of the Passerformian Empire and your reluctance to follow my orders got in my way. I do admire how you stood up to me, that is actually why you’re still alive, but I will not have you interfere in my conquest of this galaxy. I’m sorry for what you must go through, but I can’t have you getting in the way. With you is everything you need to survive on this world. They don’t have interstellar travel here, so you are trapped. Accept your fate and may you have a long and happy life on this world.”

The hologram flickered away and Mikael just stood there, feeling numb and trapped. He didn’t know what to do or what creatures lurked around him. What would become of him on this primitive world? “I’ll never see my wife again! Zipphorah, no!” he cried and curled up on the ground. The snow on the ground hurt any exposed skin, but he didn’t care about pain right now.

“So many people died, and there was nothing I could do. There was nothing I could do! Zipphorah, I’ll never see you again! Why! Why?! This makes no sense; what did I do to deserve this?!” He cried until he fell asleep.

Hours later, Mikael awoke in another hospital. Unrestrained, he got out of the bed immediately. Removing electrodes attached to his torso caused some machines beside him to alarm. Mikael sighed. This world’s technological level was very basic; he really was never getting home. He just stood there and waited, seeing as he appeared to be in no real danger he might as well talk with someone.

One of these creatures walked into the room in a white uniform, looked a little surprised at the situation with the machines being unhooked. “I see we are awake”, she said.

“I understand you?” Mikael asked. How was this possible? They must have programmed the language into his mind somehow, indicating Passerformian technology had advancements beyond that of the Psittacorian Imperium, at least involving machine-brain interfaces.

“Yes, it sounds like you might” she said and rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky those hikers found you when they did, you could have frozen to death. We still need your name; you didn’t have any identification on you. The police will want to question you about all that gold you had with you though.”

“Gold?” asked Mikael. He hadn’t looked through all the supplies Gebril left him with while so depressed. “Is gold of much importance here?”

“Did you hit your head or something? Your file says you had mild hypothermia, not a concussion. Do you need your head examined though?” she replied.

“Doctor…”

“Nurse, actually.”

“Sorry, nurse; I just am a little out of my element here. Everything is different from where I grew up.”

“Really? What planet are you from?” she asked.

He tilted his head sideways, hoping she was being serious but wondering if this was some form of humor, “I am from Psittacoria.”

She raised an eyebrow and stepped back a bit, then calmed down and laughed. “I think you must’ve hit your head something bad. I’ll let the doctor know.”



“I didn't steal that metal or anything else. It was dropped off with me.” Said Mikael.

“By who?” asked Officer Lawrence.

“It would be difficult to explain.” Mikael said while scratching his face and noticing there being stubble of hair instead of feathers. What had they done to him to turn him into one of these creatures?

“What is the name of this place?” asked Mikael.

“This is General Mercy hospital” said the officer.

Tilting his head, Mikael said, “Oh no, not this building or city, but what world is this?”

“Did he suffer a concussion or is he just crazy, doctor?” asked the officer.

“No concussion as far as I can ascertain, but he's probably crazy if you ask me.” said the doctor.

“Seriously, what world, what planet is this? Do you know of any others nearby in whatever sector of space this is or are you truly so isolated from the rest of the galaxy?” asked Mikael.

“This is Earth. So, you think you're an alien?” said the officer.

“I wasn't born here, and this is the first time I've been here, so I suppose that make me an alien. More to the point, yes, I am from another world. Psittacoria. I served as an admiral for many decades in the Imperial Psittacorian Navy and it was due to disobeying an order to bombard a world of an ally that I've been exiled here.” said Mikael. “I need to warn my people of Gebril's plan to subvert and weaken our empire, you must help me.”

“Yes, it does sound like you need help.” said the officer, now tilting his head to one side as Mikael was and with one eyebrow raised permanently. “Don't worry, you'll get help.”



Zipphorah cried, “why didn't you let me speak to him. Did he really do this? Did he really bombard Pyrodatum?” Her feathers were ruffled in a disheveled manner, and each feather looked neglected of preening for some time.

“We couldn't let this criminal speak with you or anyone else lest he spread violent sentiments across the empire. I'm sorry for your separation form your husband, but be consoled in that he isn't dead but merely exiled.” said the communications officer. “You can have your marriage formally annulled if you wish so you may seek a new spouse.”

“What!” she shrilled. “I do not want a new spouse! I want my husband back! Bring him back home, please, bring him home now! I love Mikael. Please bring him home!”

“I'm sorry, but I can't do that.”

“Let me be exiled with him then!”

“I can't do that either, ma'am.”

“Let me talk to someone who can do something then!” she yelled.

The communications officer was about ready to hang up, but said, “Look lady, there is nothing I or anyone else can do about this. The orders are directly from the prime minister.”

“Let me speak with him then.”

“I can't arrange that call.”

Zipphorah hung up.





Mikael sat on the bed of a room with a door that locked on the outside. There were no bars, just heavy plastic. He had quarters here only slightly smaller than that which he had as an admiral aboard his flagship. One room had a seat that was probably for depositing metabolic waste and a stall with a spout that sprayed a rough cone of barely warm water. “What am I supposed to do now?”

He got up, pacing about the floor and thinking about how to get out of here. “Should I just play along and tell them what they want to hear? Should I physically escape?” he asked himself. “If I try to just escape, they'll search for me and bring me back, but if I play along with their system of thought then I can walk out of here freely. So, that I must do. But how do they think?”

Mikael looked outside the window, and in the middle of a concrete path for ground vehicles was a statue of one of these creatures wearing robes and on him were small creatures that looked similar to his own people, except armless and obviously with less brain capacity. “How is that possible?” he said, tilting his head. “Have they ever met any of my kind? It's obvious that either mine or the Passerformians have studied this civilization, but these creatures of Earth seem unable to accept the possibility of my intelligences other than their own. They are isolated.”

A knock on the door, followed by it opening. “Here's some grub man. I don't know what you like, so I just picked a bit of everything out. The biscuit is always stale, but it's what we have for bread.”

“Bread?”

“Bread. You know flour mixed with water and agents to make it fluffy.”

“What is flour?”

“Flour is made from wheat, it's a type of plant that's been used for farming for thousands of years man. Look, I'm not your school teacher, but that's orange juice, make from oranges, and that's bacon made from pigs – they're an animal, I hope that's not a problem, is it?”

“You creatures of Earth eat other beings with minds?” asked Mikael.

“Oh great, not another vegetarian! Look, I'm just trying to be nice. If you want to eat it, eat it, but if you don't, then don't. It's already dead, so you're not going to bring it back to life by throwing it away.”

“I don't mean to sound ungrateful to you in particular, I'm just a little surprised that an intelligent species would so enslave the lesser creatures.”

“Well, you're welcome. I'll bring only veggies next time unless you change your mind by then.”

“What is your name?”

“Tom.”

“Mine's Mikael.”

“I saw the papers, but nice meeting you.”

“Papers?”

“Yeah, the medical papers right outside your room, they have your name there. Are you Russian or something?”

“Russian? No, I'm Psittacorian.”

“Okay... well enjoy your food.”

“Thanks Tom.”

“Yep, anytime. Well, really three times daily I'll be bringing you your food until I finally get out of here.”

“But you're not one of the patients here, are you?” asked Mikael.

“What, no of course I'm not a patient, but if they keep scheduling me to work every single weekend for another month in a row I'm going to be a patient.” said Tom.

“Weekend?” asked Mikael.

“The ends of a week, its ending day, which is Saturday, and the beginning of the next, which is Sunday. Nice employers let the people they pay have the weekends off, at least the people who don't work for a living get those days off. As for me, I think they might just be trying to get me to check in. Jokes on them though if they think they're going to get someone willing to put up with their crap as much as I do.”

“How many days are there in a week and is it based on a revolution of a satellite or some other physical process?” asked Mikael.

Tom grunted, then sighed and said, “Look I'll bring you a calendar and an astronomy textbook, though really the length of a week is from the Bible – since God created the heavens and the earth, the universe, in seven days the length of a week is seven days. Most people nowadays are atheists and don't believe that, but still it would be nice to have a day of rest once in a while.”

“God? That's the name of the creator in your language?” asked Mikael.

Rolling his eyes, Tom said, “I'll bring you a Bible also, I've got to get going. Have a good day Mr. Alien dude.”

Mikael considered this a bit interesting. His people had a similar story with God, or Tserwi, a word meaning “love” or “friend”, creating the universe in seven rotations of Psittacoria. Those creatures on the statue looked like his own people, even having hookbills. Heck, on every world with a different sentient species the foods they considered edible were generally edible. There was a theory that everything created itself, but the results would yield so much randomness. Not even should there be similar biochemistry among the various worlds, much less so many other similarities impossibly in common.

Regardless of the model of origins though, there was the choice set before him as to whether or not to eat the food set before him. Should he eat the dead animal remains? Somehow the Passerformian doctors had given him an Earth-sentient body, so he should be able to process the same foods as the rest of him. However, it was against his ethics as well as generally illegal throughout the galaxy to harvest the lesser thinking creatures. So, he should abstain. It would seem to upset his keeper that he would not eat the processed animals, but he should do what's right despite what his new friend might think of him for it.



Zipphorah stared at the ceiling of the waiting room, constantly thinking of Mikael and worrying about what might be happening to him. The prime minister gave her audience and she was going to get him back.. “I'm not going to just let this happen. I can't let this happen. This can't be happening, this must be a night terror – but somehow it's not. How can this be happening!” The other people in the waiting room stared at her briefly, some deciding to leave and others deciding to pretend to go back to what they were doing while still listening for gossip's sake.

“Prime Minister Gebril will see you now Mrs. Tielkeet” said the administrator.

Zipphorah put her foot which she was resting down and started walking. The solid holographic wall which separated the office from the waiting room blinked off, and after Zipphorah walked through the walk blinked back on. Whereas the wall was sky blue on the side of the waiting room, on the side of the office it showed a map of the galaxy.

“I understand you wish to make an appeal for your husband, but unfortunately that is quite impossible.” said Gebril. “If you would like, I could arrange for you to join your husband in exile. Wouldn't you rather just find someone new though?”

“What?! Why would I want to find someone new? Are you even Psittacorian? We mate for life!”

Gebril looked startled at that statement, but after a moment's reprise he said, “I admire your loyal to your spouse, but statistically I know that is not a general sentiment amongst the Psittacorian Empire. Do you wish to join your husband?”

“I wish us to be back together, of course I do! But he should be here with me. I shouldn't have to also be exiled.” said Zipphorah.

“I can't let him return, not after what he did to Pyrodatum.” said Gebril.

“I can't believe he did that, and I don't. I don't like the circumstances of his trial and I don't like how he's been summarily judged and had that carried out with no appeal. He shouldn't have been changed into one of those creatures, and I certainly don't want to be, and he shouldn't have to stay away. I demand a retrial.” said Zipphorah.

“That's not the offer, I'm sorry.” said Gebril, reaching for a control on the inside of his vest. Gebril deactivated the psionic camouflage circuit and revealed his true appearance.

Zipphorah was stunned and started shaking in fear. “Wha... – what are you?!”

“Don't be afraid, you're fine. I am a Passerformian, my empire spans throughout three galaxies in this cluster alone and I give you my word that, if you'll accept my terms, you will see your husband again.”

“What if I don't accept your terms?”

“Then your memory will have to be edited. I'm sorry it has to be this way, but your empire will be annexed and added to my own. As for you and your husband, however, I am willing to see you reunited. He is a noble man, Mikael refused to bombard Pyrodatum and that is the reason I only sent him into exile rather than have him executed. Do you wish to join your husband?”

“I do.” said Zipphorah.



Zipphorah, in her new form as a female human, looked out the portal of the transport upon the cloudy world below with it's green bands of magnetic storms and giant moon visible just past the horizon. “Do you know what's become of him?”

“He's been hospitalized, not for illness but for being too honest essentially. He didn't know that these creatures are so isolated as to assume that no other highly intelligent creatures exist except for themselves. He went blabbing away to the local authorities about needing to contact his empire and it played out as I estimated: they locked him away as someone insane.” said Emperor Gebril.

Zipphorah started to cry, the tears flowing down her new beakless face. “There really is no way off this world, is there?”

“Well, they have a few stations in low orbit. Only about five hundred out of 7 billion have ever gone to those stations. Twelve so far have visited that giant satellite, which they only did for a couple of years before their populace got bored and stopped caring. They're a very lazy and self absorbed people. Some have grand dreams, but they never do anything with them other than hope for a better tomorrow while doing nothing toward obtaining that future. There is a plan to send four people to the fourth solid world every couple years, but apart from that they essentially have no real plans for becoming a spacefaring civilization, much less forming anything close to a formidable empire of their own. In short, yes you and your husband will be trapped here.”

“How are we going to get Mikael out of the hospital?” asked Zipphorah.

“We aren't. You and your husband are honorable people, and so I'm doing you this favor and taking away from my time which could be on more important matters of intergalactic politics. Consider your reunion my gift and please do not ask for more.”

“You're just going to leave me here and make me figure it out on my own?! I don't know where to begin!”

“You'll be given plenty of resources and a textbook prepared by our field researchers. This world will be eventually added to my empire, so it has been researched thoroughly and it will be helpful to you to study that material before interacting with the humans. Among your supplies are plenty of rations and some weaponry to defend yourself if the need arises.” said Gebril.

“Speaking of weaponry, why do you carry that old laser pistol?” ask Zipphorah.

“Show some respect. It is old. Hundreds of years old, from when my father ruled only our own galaxy. He used to carry it with him always. Two hundred standard years ago, when he passed away, he handed it to me personally right before he died. I will never forget my father, he was a good man, and I care not that all the weaponry now is either non-lethal for police duty or antiproton disruptors for warfare – I will carry this weapon just as my father did and pass it on to whomever my successor is when I die.”

“For a megalomaniac, you aren't so bad Gebril.”



Sitting in the study room, Mikael read the books given him by Tom. The Bible seemed to indicate that this world was set in some sort of quarantine, fallen as it were. Apparently there was a worldwide event that almost destroyed all life also. The astronomy books stood in stark contrast with their time tables, but they indicated multiple impact events on this world which, if many of them were almost at once could cause the rapid motion of tectonic plates necessary for flooding the surface of this world. Apparently many scientists of this world thought that the fourth planet of this solar system had a world wide flood at one point, despite the majority of the water being frozen one polar cap and in permafrost otherwise, but this world had enough water to cover its surface many kilometers deep if the topography were even.

“Hey, Mister Alien, you looking to be a preacher or something?!” asked Tom. “You've been reading that Bible more than most pastors do.”

“No, I'm just trying to understand this planet's history.” said Mikael.

“Well, you might want to read that only in your room either way, the other staff are starting to say some pretty lousy things about you – and me also since I gave you that book.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. Is that normal here on this world?” asked Mikael.

“Depends where you go. Eh, it looks like I might actually be getting some time off anyway, so I really ought to thank you. They think I'm 'witnessing to the patients', ha! I'm an agnostic and they're accusing me of 'witnessing'. Whatever, I'm sick of it here.” said Tom.

“Well, whatever happens to you I'm sorry if it turns out bad for you.”

“Thanks there Mr. Alien.”

“Mikael is fine. I'd rather not be thought of as an alien, I want out of here.”

“I don't know that I can help you there. They get paid pretty richly for every day you, and all the rest of the patients, are here. Giving up anyone is like giving up a gold mine, it's worth it to them to question your sanity like crazy, so to speak. There are probably saner people locked away than there are running the place, but so long as the money flows in it matters not.” said Tom.

“What is money?” asked Mikael.

Tom sighed, sat down, and said, “It's something everyone needs more of. You have freeloaders, certainly, but for the most part, within the world of work – …”

“World of work?”

“It's an expression, like 'realm' better? Anyhow, for those who work it's like this: the more you are paid, the less you work, and vice versa. Money is supposed to represent work, but it really represents the opposite of work. Like in electronics – have you ever studied electronics? – there's resistance and conductance, one's the inverse of the other, its reciprocal, and so it seems to me that the amount a person is paid goes with the inverse of how much they work. Plus or times some arbitrary or measurable constant, of course, and whatever fudge factors for line of work, but either way you have the people who work the most getting paid the least and those who do the least get paid the most. I really shouldn't be that way, but it is.”

“People aren't rewarded based on merit?” asked Mikael.

“Only by merit of who they're related to if anything.” said Tom. “I've got to get the lunches ready for the rest of the quasi-prisoners here, it's been nice talking with you Mr. A – , sorry, Mikael.”

“You as well Tom.” said Mikael.

Zipphorah finished pitching her tent and got to studying the textbook On The Nature Of Humans. Rather depressing lot already, she thought, based on what Gebril told her. They are a mixed bunch, but mostly selfish. Things had apparently been better a century or so ago, but rapidly decayed for various reasons. Some humans mated for life, but for the most part they cared only about their own individual happiness above anything else. Laying down in the sleeping bag, trying to read, she couldn't stop thinking about Mikael and hoping she'd see him again.

“I don't want to end up hospitalized, so I've got to blend in here.” she said, pressing on reading the material of the textbook. Still she could hardly focus and often drifted off in thought to her husband while her eyes passed over text absently. “Bleh! I can't do this! Why does it have to be this way?! It shouldn't be this way!” she sobbed. “These eyes leak so much, bah!”



Gebril paced about the bridge of his ship, leaning over displays and adjusting controls occasionally, brooding over this act of mercy he had done. “I hope I've done you well father.” he said, then, “Helmsman, plot a course to Psittacoria and engage.”

“Aye sir.”

Gebril went to the observation deck and perched under the vista provided by the geodesic dome. The Earth was a lovely looking world, at this distance anyway. The planet began to recede at a rapidly increasing pace, the effects of such apparent acceleration were countered by a form of inertial dampening called dimensional separation. Soon the ship was at closest approach to the Earth's star, the Sun or Sol or 7,000 other things, and the Passerformian transport vessel cloaked and entered subspace. Exiting immediately about the Psittacorian star, Whurwi, the ship zoomed right to Psittacoria and landed inside the cloaked hanger bay Gebril had established only a few years earlier.

Reactivating the psionic camouflage, Gebril exited the transport and walked back to his office as Prime Minister of Psittacoria. This world had, perhaps, not as much beauty from orbit, but it was less violent. Funny that he should think of that as a quality he should admire, given what he must do in order to rule as much as possible and expand his father's empire, but the violence of war and the violence of a people in general are two separate things. These Psittacorians are a somewhat noble lot, more than his own and more than that of the humans certainly.

“Here's today's agenda Prime Minister”

“Thank you Owlice” said Gebril. The wall entry to his office blinked off, and back on after he passed through.



Mikael sat there on his bed again, wondering what he should do now. There's nothing I really can do, he thought, these people want everyone to stay so that they can earn money off of them. So asking to go is asking for the hospital's owners to be paid less. “So, I'm stuck here.” he said.

Looking out the window, the statue with the birds stood there as always. Looking over a parking lot, it seemed rather out of place somehow – even with all the flowering plants around it. It looked more like something one would place in a garden rather than a roundabout for vehicles. Nevertheless, that is apparently the aesthetic nature of humans to place beauty with crassness. Why though?

Was it out of some bizarre notion that what is beautiful belonged with what is ugly? How could that be? Perhaps instead it was out of a desire to lessen the ugliness of things that beauty is intermixed. That seems more likely really. Why else would it be so? Still that statue really is out of place.

“What you lookin' at?” asked Tom as he entered the room and brought breakfast.

“The statue outside. It really seems out of place.” said Mikael.

“I'll agree with you there, but just don't tell the shrinks – they'll question whether you're OCD.”

“I take it that's a bad thing?” asked Mikael.

“It really depends if you like staying here permanently or not, but, eh, it's your choice. Yeah though, the statue is out of place. Before they expanded the parking lot that area had been a garden. The statue's of some dude, St. Frank, who this place was dedicated after. If I were him I'd sue the place, but he's dead so he has no say in the matter.” said Tom.

“Ah, it's carried over, that makes some sense I suppose. Couldn't they have built the parking lot somewhere else?” asked Mikael.

“What, and spend the hundreds of thousands of dollars a day this place here takes in on more land just so the involuntary residents could have a nice view outside? Nope. They keep their expenses as low as possible, especially the wages of the actual workers, just so the highest ups can rake in as much dough as possible. Can you imagine all those poor rich people? If they didn't cut so many costs they might not be able to afford to buy their third yacht or keep both their summer and winter homes in good repair. So terribly sad for them if they couldn't afford that – while I can barely afford both rent and food.”

“That does seem highly polarized.” said Mikael.

“No kidding bud. You ought to hear the justifications for it. 'Oh, what do you want in its place? Communism?' It's like, no, I'd like some fairness though.” said Tom.

“I'm sorry for you, I wish I could help.” said Mikael.

“Well, if you ever get your fleet back, could you just blast their butts to kingdom come?”

“I defied orders like that to get exiled here. I'm not a judge, but crime and punishment should be equal.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” said Tom. “Enjoy your meal.”



“Yes, I'd like to check out a patient, one Mikael Tielkeet, I'm his wife.” said Zipphorah.

The administrator behind the desk sipped at her coffee and then said flatly, “Sorry ma'am, that's not possible. He is too remain here indefinitely. He thinks he's some sort of alien admiral. You could really do better.”

Zipphorah exhaled sharply and then calmed herself down, then depositing a small brick of gold on the desk she said, “How's this for doing better? I want my husband out of here.”

The administrator stared at the gold brick in disbelief and then quickly concealed it. “Just wait here ma'am, it's going to take a little bit of time convincing the doctors to sign the forms. Perhaps if you had a few more of those it might help to smooth out the process.”

Rolling her eyes, Zipphorah withdrew two more bricks and tossed them upon the desk.

“It will only be a moment ma'am.”

Zipphorah paced about the empty waiting room for what seemed an eternity. The ticking of the clocks was only just quieter than the sounds of her own footsteps. Then the administrator returned with a man dressed in a white coat.

“Excuse me ma'am, you do understand that you're husband is clinically insane?” said the man.

“So I've been told. It matters not, I want him out of here.” she said.

“As his doctor I cannot say I fully approve of his release, but...”

“You want the shiny metal, don't you? Here.” she said, tossing five small gold bricks on the ground. Zipphorah watched in dry amusement as the doctor and administrator scurried about after the chunks of metal.

“Your husband will be with you shortly.” he said and walked away into the ward.

Moments later, the doctor returned with a man dressed in a white jumpsuit. He said, “Zipphorah? Is that really you?”

She ran to him and embraced him. “Yes, it's me. Is it really you? I thought I'd never see you again! I love you Mika!”

“I love you too Zippy. I can hardly believe my own eyes, but it is so good to see you again!” he said and kissed her. She kissed him back even stronger.

The doctor and administrator looked about trying not to pay attention. “I wish you both the best”, said the doctor as he walked away. The administrator just busied herself with paperwork.

Tom entered the waiting room and said, “hey I heard you're actually leaving. Best of luck there man. Hey, is this your wife? Nice to meet you ma'am.”

Mikael and Zipphorah paused their kissing and made introductions, “Zipphorah, this is Tom. He's been a friend here. Tom, this is my wife Zipphorah of five hundred years.”

“Whoa man, that's a long time to be together.” said Tom.

“No, not really” said Zipphorah.

“Well, here it's a long time just to be alive.”

“Yes, I know, humans have an average lifespan of around sixty years nowadays. That seems rather depressing to me.” said Zipphorah.

Tom glanced at the administrator who said, “I'm not saying anything.” and Tom led them outside. “It's been nice knowing you guys, but I don't want the both of you to get stuck here.”

Zipphorah reached into her purse and withdrew three more small bricks of gold and handed them to Tom, and said, “Thanks for being a friend to my husband.”

Tom stared at the contents in his hands for a moment and said, “Hey, yeah, no problem guys. You take care now.”



“So how do we get back home?” asked Mikael.

“I don't know, but I do know that somehow we're being watched by Gebril. If we remain here, we aren't a threat to him, but if we try to get back home then we may become targets because he'd fear we'd interfere.” said Zipphorah.

“Well, we should find out how we're being monitored first and see if we can do anything about that. If we cut off whatever means he has of observing us though, that will elicit suspicion and might prompt investigation.” Mikael said.

“True, but if we leave it as is we'll be caught also.”

“Zippy, we could just live out our days here if you want, but I think it is my duty to warn the rest of the empire about what Gebril plans to do. You don't have to be involved in this.”

“Mika, wherever you go I will follow.”



Passing by the statue as they entered the parking lot, Mikael and Zipphorah got in a used jeep she bought and they drove in circles for hours seeing if anyone might follow them. Nothing. It seemed there weren't agents following them, or at least not visibly or not then.

“What could it be?” asked Zipphorah.

“I'm not certain, but he could have nanites on us or in us. There could be satellites. I don't know. Somehow our actions are being monitored, so we have to be careful what we say.” said Mikael.

“Perhaps we could invent our own language?”

“Well, that would be awesome to do and fun with you, but we probably would be teaching the grammar and vocabulary to Gebril or any agents of his right as we construct the language.” said Mikael.

“Maybe we should just give up and enjoy life here.”

“You know Zippy, that's not such a bad idea.” He spelled out in a sign language the words, “For now.”

“Well, where do we want to live?” asked Zipphorah. “Right now, I have a tent in the middle of the woods. It's rather cramped and bugs freely enter.”

“That will have to do for now, but what about a house?”

“Some of them do look pretty.” said Zipphorah. “Perhaps a tall one with a turret, like that one over there!” She pointed to a large Victorian house with a spire overlooking a maze garden of lilacs. It had a “For Sale” sign out front. “Let's see that one!” she said.



THE END OF PART ONE.

I'm not sure how constructive or helpful this will be to you but I enjoyed what you posted here. I felt like you struck a good balance between unrealistic enough to be science fiction and realistic enough to tie in to what we know about life on earth. I also liked all the questions that Mikael was asking Tom. They seemed fitting.

The concept of having a protagonist looking from the outside at humanity is an interesting one, you'll just have to ensure he doesn't come off too preachy and holier than thou when criticising our various flaws. I think I get where you're taking this anyway, that he'll eventually undergo some character development come to the conclusion that humans aren't so bad after-all. Anyway, aside from that, one particular line stuck out for me. It isn't terribly important, but I think it could do with some explanation:

I'm a bit bemused by how things would have been better from his point of view. I'm assuming this is set in the present day (correct me if I'm wrong), so a century ago would be 1915, in the middle of World War I. Even putting aside that bloodshed, we're talking about a society that was still very class-dominated, where women couldn't vote, where people of colour were second class citizens and you could be imprisoned in most countries for being gay. It would be nice to hear his reasoning therefore why a century ago was better (less divorce, more stable family units maybe?)

I kinda meant better in terms of honor, duty, loyalty, and less than a 5% divorce rate rather than a sad coin flip.


Moderators, I'm going to submit a slightly modified version of this for publication, so could you please delete or hide this thread so as to not adversely affect its chances. Thanks to everyone who replied though.

^^^
Absolutely.