by M. Alan Marr
The overhead road sign to Atlanta induces a moment of unplanned anxiety as the highway begins to split, requiring aggressive action and a sudden cut across several lanes. Driving, Dev realizes, is exhausting. Even more so considering the long flight he just completed.
Sunrise adds a blinding factor into the driving equation, with no signs of anyone else slowing down, despite the glare. It is clear the most dangerous part of Dev’s mission thus far is happening right now. The busy Atlanta traffic makes matters even worse, and the early morning commuters are out in full force, clogging the already crowded roadways. In a matter of seconds, he nearly swerves into a passing car. Horns blare, quick jerk back into lane, heart pounding. “I piloted a vessel halfway across the cosmos, why can’t I do this?” Dev has, just as Earthly pilots have, a certain streak of arrogance that assumes their skill extends to any all situations, particularly when it comes to operating other types of machinery. Not the case, sadly.
Another automotive close has Dev completely on edge. The upcoming sign pointing the exit to Midtown is a good opportunity to leave the highway system in hopes of a more civilized transit. “I’ve had enough of this for one lifetime.”
Getting off the main artery now introduces Dev to city driving, a new and even more demanding form of slow-speed torture. Stop signs are the biggies. No left turn. No right turn. Yield—who is supposed to do the yielding? But after a few wrong turns and false starts, Dev begins to feel like he might be getting the hang of it. That is, until he almost runs over a pedestrian crossing the street. He jams on the brakes.
“Crosswalk, asshole!” the outraged passerby yells.
“Apologies!” Dev replies, to no avail, of course.
“Jack off!”
Dev is pretty sure that was an insult. Even so, he waits until the pedestrian is well out of the crosswalk. Now there is a blaring horn from the car behind him. Looking at the rearview mirror, Dev sees the irritated driver yelling the word GO! Dev slowly inches forward, shaking his head in self-disgust. “Three hours on Earth and I almost kill one of their residents.”
Skittishly now, Dev presses onward, on the lookout for every random danger. Ahead, he sees a sign for the W Midtown Hotel. Salvation of a sort. Giving up on driving, Dev is about to turn in to the hotel when another car pulls right out in front of him, again causing him to jam on the brakes.
“This is insanity.” Dev pulls into the hotel driveway. The valet near the door motions for him to drive forward and then stop. Dev shuts down the engine and takes a deep, cleansing breath, then happily gets out of the Bronco.
The friendly valet has no idea of the trauma Dev just endured. “Park your car?”
Dev replies with determination, “Take. It. Away.”
“Are you staying at the hotel?”
“Yes, I hope to.”
The valet motions toward the glass doors. “Check-in desk is inside to the left. Oh, will you be needing your car soon?”
“I sincerely hope not.”
“Yes, sir. Just call down when you do.”
“My thanks.” Dev enters the hotel lobby and looks around. As he approaches the front desk, a young woman greets him pleasantly.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning to you.”
“How can I help?”
“I just arrived in Atlanta. I’ll need lodging for the time being, until I can find a more permanent residence.”
“Let me see what I can do.” The woman checks her computer. “We have a few rooms available. But if you’re going to be with us for a while, maybe you’d be interested in one of our suites?”
“Would that be your recommendation?”
“If I had the choice? Absolutely.”
“Very well, then.”
“We have a corner suite on the twentieth floor with an awesome view, and then we have our largest suites on the top floor.”
“Which would you choose?”
“Are you traveling alone?”
“Yes.”
“Well,”—she looks around to make sure no one is listening—“the large suites are nice, but they’re little over-the-top for just one person. If it was me, I’d take the corner suite. It’s got a really nice living room, separate bedroom, and it’s very comfortable.”
“Perfect idea.” Dev smiles. “A corner suite it is.”
“As of now, it looks like you have it for up to three weeks, and then we’re fully booked for a convention.”
“Three weeks should be enough time.”
“Great. I’ll just need a credit card.”
Dev hands her his black Amex card, causing the clerk to raise her eyebrows. She’s heard of these exclusive black metal cards, but hasn’t seen one until now. Dev signs the hotel paperwork and places his credit card back in his wallet.
“Do you have any luggage I can have sent up?”
Dev has nothing but the clothes on his back. “No. Actually, I need to purchase a new wardrobe.”
“I can give you directions to Lenox Square if you need to go shopping.”
“Lenox Square? Is it far from here?”
“No, just a short drive.”
Drive. That word makes Dev wince. “Well, perhaps later.”
The desk clerk hands Dev two plastic keycards in a small paper jacket. “Here are your keys. Twentieth floor, and the room number is here.” She points to the number without saying it aloud. “Elevators are over there, sir. I hope you enjoy your stay with us. If you need anything, please just ask.”
Standing in the empty elevator, Dev has a perplexed moment wondering why it hasn’t started moving, then realizes he has to actually press the button for his floor. Once successfully arriving on the twentieth floor, Dev finds his suit. The proximity keycard is nearly self-explanatory, and he manages to access his rooms without much trouble. Looking around, Dev approves of both the accommodations and the view. He finds literature on room features, the in-room safe, a style magazine called Exquisite Atlanta, guides to the tv, phone, air conditioning system, and a separate room service menu.
Standing at the large windows thinking, Dev sums up his mission so far: he was almost discovered in orbit, landed on private property, nearly got killed on the highway, almost ran over a pedestrian, and very nearly wrecked the car—multiple times. Great start. Oh, to be in combat. At least he knows what he’s doing in that circumstance. On the other hand, the landing was successful, the ship is safe, and temporary lodgings have been secured.
Feeling a hunger pang, Dev realizes it’s been a while since he’s eaten anything. But what? What do people eat here? But before dining in public, Dev figures it would be best to gain some familiarity with the local foodstuffs. That in mind, he grabs the leather-bound printed room service menu. The menu is arranged by meal: breakfast, lunch, all-day dining, dinner, and late-night dining. Each section lists the time of day the menus are applicable. The clock on the desk indicates the local time is 7:27 am; breakfast. Not knowing exactly what to order, Dev dials room service and chooses several items on the menu that happened to be accompanied by a picture. Sampling the cuisine is a charming bonus of his mission here.
While waiting for breakfast to arrive, Dev opens his leather bag and places his off-world weapon in the room safe, along with the bulk of the money. At the bottom of the bag is a small personal grooming kit. He’ll need to procure local toiletries, but for now, this is what he has. The directions on the safe call for a five-digit code. Dev smiles and enters 42697 (his military ID number) and secures the door.
Dev enters the bathroom and examines the little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and lotion. He picks up the bars of face soap and hand soap and tries to determine the difference between the two, aside from the packaging. His off-world razor looks similar to an Earthly electric razor. His ‘toothbrush’ is more like a bite guard, which he runs under the water and inserts in his mouth. The device whirs for a few seconds then shuts down. Dev removes the dental instrument, runs it under the water again, and then looks at his cl
ean white teeth in the mirror. Staring at his reflection a few moments lost in contemplation, it’s hard to believe he is actually here on Earth. The notion evokes several feelings. Part is pride for even being selected for this mission. Part is disbelief that he is so far, and so removed, from home. And part is the knowledge that his reporting will have ramifications for the people of Earth for generations to come.
Chapter 4
Guest Star
Dev’s breakfast order arrives and is wheeled in. The room service waiter presents him with the check to sign. Aware of the American custom of tipping, Dev hands the waiter the only denomination he has available, a hundred-dollar bill. The waiter is speechless.
Breakfast is . . . interesting . . . a mixture of sweet and savory on both ends of the spectrum. The fresh fruit is so far his favorite and has similar counterparts on his world.
Overall, Dev’s first meal on Earth satisfies both his hunger and some curiosity. It will take some trial and error to determine his likes and dislikes, but that will come with time.
More than anything right now, Dev wants to be outside and get some fresh air. That in mind, he grabs his leather bag and ventures out on foot. Despite the danger that every single automobile seems to present, Dev manages to get himself from one side of the street to the other without getting run over. The electronic walk/don’t walk signs are helpful, though he notices many people disregarding them entirely. Outwardly, this appears to be a society of laws many of which seem to be ignored, like speed limits.
Dev takes a deep breath of fresh air. Fresh polluted air. Air that wreaks of petrol fumes from almost every vehicle and machine on the road. Oh well, at least it’s not that sterile, predetermined atmospheric mix from his shipboard systems. Walking past a florist’s outdoor display, Dev literally stops to smell the roses. Fresh botanicals, that’s exactly what he’s been missing. Even if he were to bring back a bouquet of these roses, the atmospheric scrubbers in his ship would filter out the delicate aeromatics. And though Dev would never give up his life as a pilot for anything, being on the ground (even on Earth) makes one appreciate something as simple as the delicate scent of a rose.
It is quickly apparent that Midtown Atlanta is home to many residential buildings, a large park, shopping areas, and the overall look of an inviting place to call home for a while. While meandering along the sidewalk, Dev notices a lot of people going in and out of a Midtown Starbucks. That’s as good a place as any to start, so he slings his leather bag diagonally over his shoulder, and enters the busy coffeehouse just after 0830.
Dev looks around and joins the back of the line and listens closely to what everybody is ordering. Many of the five or so people ahead of him order convoluted beverages with half this or half that, or part this or part that. No foam, extra foam, iced, hot, extra hot, mocha, vanilla, soy, chai, etcetera. The pressure mounts as he is second from the front. In the midst of this internal turmoil, the well-dressed man ahead orders simply, a venti Pike, and then hands the cashier a bank note.
Perfect idea, that’s what I’ll ask for, venti Pike. Room for cream? Yes. Got it.
“Morning,” the pleasant woman says to Dev. “What can we get you?”
“Venti Pike,” Dev says confidently.
“Room for cream?”
“Yes.”
“Two of those,” the cashier says to the nearby assistant. Dev pulls a hundred-dollar bill out of his bag and hands it to the cashier. It’s busy, and she quickly makes change. The man before him had placed a dollar bill in the tip jar. Dev does the same, although he doesn’t check the denomination and leaves a ten.
“Ouch!” the assistant yells, having spilled both cups coffee behind the counter.
“You okay?” the cashier says to her coworker.
“Yeah, just a minor collision with scalding hot coffee is all.”
This beverage is served hot, Dev notes.
The cashier looks at Dev and the previous man. “I’m sorry, guys. We’ll get those right out to you.”
“No problem,” the man says, barely looking up from the electronic device in his hand.
Dev glances down at the man’s personal device: iconic initiators with numeric and alphabetic input protocols.
Two identical coffees are served at the same time. “Sorry for the wait, guys.”
“No problem,” Dev says, and then follows the businessman to the cream and sugar bar. Dev watches as the man pulls off the lid, pours half and half into his coffee, stirs, and replaces the top. Dev does the same thing. But whereas the businessman departs in a hurry, Dev lingers behind to observe. He cautiously tries a sip of his coffee and loves it. Many people in the Starbucks are lounging about in the comfortable chairs. Some reading newspapers, a few engaged in conversation. Dev takes up residence in a vacated leather chair ideally positioned for people-watching. Something he notices straightaway, is that nearly everyone present has a personal communications device, or iPhone as he heard someone call it. Some of the patrons even wore their iPhones attached to their belts. Dev’s own interlink device is stowed in the center of his belt buckle. His sweater covers the unusual pairing, but he is able to discreetly pull and use his device to access the local data network and run words like iPhone, latte, and half and half. The network description of the iPhone and its user demographics make it clear he needs to acquire one. Not wanting to tempt fate any further than necessary, Dev stows the off-world device back in his belt and leaves it covered by his sweater.
The patron in the next chair folds up her newspaper and prepares to depart. Before leaving, she asks Dev if he’d like to read it. Dev happily thanks her. He’s seen an archival copy of a newspaper before, but this is the real thing. The news of the day touches on the volatile political climate, terrible crimes, shootings that spurned riots, the economy, climate change, and scandal. The technology section of the paper is very informative. Thirty years ago, communications were largely dependent on physical transmission lines. Now, as expected, wireless transmission of data is the standard. Wi-Fi, they call it.
Dev finishes the newspaper and continues to sip his coffee while discreetly observing the crowd. Just about everyone seems well dressed. He half expected the population to be in tatters. Some are wearing coordinated jackets and pants of the same pattern and material, others are wearing some kind of skintight material cut off at the arms and legs, worn with what must be athletic footwear. Dev’s own attire, black pants and a form-fitting dark blue pullover doesn’t look at all out of place, something he was mildly concerned about.
The morning crowd thins to just a few older patrons, apparently in no hurry to go anywhere. With the place nearly empty now, Dev listens to the soft background music considering a very serious complication that has arisen from his forced early landing. Since he was unable to deploy the relay buoy in orbit, he is now effectively cut off. Making routine reports to the Admiralty is standard procedure, but without the relay buoy, he has no easy means of doing so. Certainly his ship is well equipped and capable, but transmitting from its current position would most certainly attract attention. Dev’s orders are clear: hide the ship and keep it hidden. Risking discovery of his only ride home is simply not an option. An alternative will need to be considered.
Next order of business, living quarters. Dev will be spending an entire year on Earth. He needs private living space. For one thing, he possesses technology that must not fall into anyone’s hands. For another, hotels are a temporary solution and only marginally secure.
Meandering back outside, Dev spots a storage box with a publication called Atlanta Apartment Finder. The placard on the box indicates the publication is free, so he takes a copy and pages through the listings. Though Dev began his mission in Alabama, the analytical systems in his ship determined the owners of the lake originally hail from Atlanta. This being the case, and since Alabama is so rural, Dev decides he can best fulfill his orders by remaining in this city. That in mind, he sits down on a bench and starts searching for a place to live. There are clearl
y many, many options. How does one decide? Dev pages to a commercial advertisement for a property called The Gillespie, billed as ‘Midtown’s luxe window on the world.’ Perfect. The small map in the ad shows it is located just down the street from the Starbucks. The Gillespie advertises a 2BR+D, FP, 2.5 BA, DR, W/D, and has a view. Whatever all that means. The listing is easier to decipher after Dev locates the legend to translate the shorthand: two bedrooms plus den, fireplace, two and a half baths, dining room, and a washer/dryer.
“Half a bath?” he wonders aloud. “What does that mean?” The ad states that the sales and leasing office opens at 9:00 am. Dev pulls back his left sleeve slightly to check the time. His off-world chronometer is a wide, shiny platinum bangle with raised gold crest. Its integrated display screen is oriented on the inside forearm for a more ergonomically natural viewing angle (rather than the anatomically unnatural inward twisting of the arm to read the time on top of the wrist, as is the custom on Earth). The chronometer indicates the local time is 0910 hours; 2 plus 50 before the zenith. Walking in the direction of the Gillespie, Dev notices that everyone on the sidewalk seems to be in a hurry to get somewhere. Many seem to be running late, judging by their urgency and gait.
Dev has no problem locating the Gillespie building. It is just down the street in fact. It is a tall, modern structure, clad in glass. Not at all dissimilar to where he lives. Yes, this is the place. As he approaches the entry, a uniformed man greets him and holds the door open. Dev enters the appealing lobby and encounters the building concierge. His inquiry triggers a call to the in-house sales agent, a woman called Rosalind, who enthusiastically invites Dev into her office. Rosalind, although very happy he stopped in, does not have good news.
“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Caelestis, but that particular condo sold just after the advert went to print. As for rental units, our earliest availability won’t be for several months. In fact, the only thing we have available for immediate occupancy is the penthouse.”