I heard a shout down the hallway, “Resistance is futile! You will be assimilated!”
“My god, is it the borg?” I asked.
“No, my darling,” Shiela said, trying to assuage me, “it’s the new homeland security forces working with the INS to process green card applicants.”
“How archaic!” I looked around, “We must have made the wrong turn and gotten into the federal building.”
“Oh no, my darling,” she said in a voice that filled me with apprehension, “they work everywhere.”
Shelia could stand to be more articulate at times, but she does know what’s going on and besides that, she dresses up my arm very nicely. I motioned that we should duck into a sidehallway. There are some standing warrants for my arrest and an aprehension was not on my agenda for the day.
“We should move from here, my darling.” shelia whispered in my ear. I misread her ardor and kissed her passionately, when I was suddenly assialed from behind. I was out faster than an incandescent lightbulb in a power surge, but apparently Selia put up quite a fight. I came to in a bare concrete room with a bare lightbulb overhead, the very image of asperity, but there was more in store.
“where am I?” I asked, before I got my bearings.
“Ah,” an unknown voice said, “your antipathy toward the law finally caught up with you, Mr. Anderson.”
I sat up. “Look, you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m not even a guy. I’m just Jane Smith, like it says on my drivers liscence.”
“One of you many aliases, Mr Anderson.” the voice spat out with heavy antagonism. I could just make out the speaker standing in the shadows of the room.
“Where’s Shelia?” I demanded.
A shadow next to the speaker moved suddenly and he collapsed to the ground. shelia stepped out of the shadows.
“What took you so long?” I asked as she took my cuffs off
“I was waiting for you to inquire after me.”
I assayed myself, checking for injury. “That’s a pretty arbitrary time to come to the rescue.”
“I had to make sure they didn’t assimilate you. The door is this way.”
As I wondered what was going on, she led me out into an utterly arid desert. Fortunately there was a dune buggy parked there, because it would be a long, waterless walk otherwise.
“Can you explain what’s going on? just start from the top.” I said after we hotwired the buggy and started acorss the sands.
She was driving so she gestured towards her purse. Inside was a document, whose edges were handpainted with intriquite arabesque but whose content was utterly arid.
“It’s all in there.” she said.
I read the whole thing. “My god!” I said, “this sinister plot must be stopped!”
Shelia handed me my revolver.

Published by

Charles Céleste Hutchins

Supercolliding since 2003

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