When we woke in the morning, I looked at the bolts and metal panel. Nothing visible had changed, but I didn’t smell anything. I sniffed near the edge and didn’t notice any scents.
“Pedro, what do you smell?”
He sniffed too. “Nothing. It used to smell really good.”
I held my fingers near the edge. “There’s still warm air coming out.”
Sam said, “I smell something now. Cinnamon?”
I noticed it too. I took another sniff near the edge. “Apple pie! Instead of spicy tuna ramen, it smells like apple pie with cinnamon!”
Robin agreed, “Yeah! Let’s get it open.”
The rest of us stood back, and Pedro cut through the thick bolts holding each corner of the triangular door.
A long corridor through the granite led us to a hotel lobby! There were several sofas, comfortable-looking chairs, and a large sign above a reception desk, “Jupiter Hilton.” We saw a large tray of cinnamon rolls, donuts, and fruit on a table, along with coffee pots and a pitcher of orange juice.
To the right, there was an indoor pool and I saw an elevator. On the left, a large window showed a surreal view. I wasn’t sure, but instead of seeing the moon or sun in the sky, I could see the blackness of space and it looked like we were near Jupiter! The only doors were the elevator and pool. There was no way outside, but I thought that was probably a good thing, since we seemed to be in space.
There was a phone on the desk and I picked it up. A recording of a high-pitched male voice repeatedly said, “Use the computer”.
After we ate and drank, we looked around a little more. Behind the reception desk Sam worked on what looked like a standard desktop pc, except the characters on the screen were something I had never seen before. “What’s the writing, Sam?”
“I’m not quite sure. It looks like maybe a blend of Chinese, Egyptian hieroglyphs, and ancient Greek? This will take me some time.”
Pedro said, “Let’s look around, but be careful.”
I opened the elevator and quite oddly, the back was clear glass and I could see the inside of the elevator shaft. I was very surprised at the labels on the buttons inside. Instead of floor numbers, there were: “Lobby, Pedro, Anna, Robin, Sam, Keisha, NY Grand Central Terminal.”
I called out, “Everybody! Come here! I think I found a way home!”
When everyone was inside, I pressed the button for “NY Grand Central”. We only felt a slight movement, and we could see the interior of Grand Central Station through the glass! A man sitting on the floor played guitar and people tossed him a few coins, until a policeman led him away. Before the cop was even out of sight, a girl with a violin took the guitarist’s spot and started to play. Hundreds of people walked from corridor to corridor, and in and out the exits to the street. I’d never cried from happiness before, but I started to.
I heard a click and Pedro said, “It won’t open.” I turned around and saw him press the “Door open” button a few more times. At the top of the glass at the back of the elevator, large red letters declared, “OUT OF ORDER. PLEASE PLACE A SERVICE CALL.”
Anna seemed the most upset of all of us. She said, “NO! I live thirty blocks from here! It has to work! We took the subway to Grand Central with our kids on the weekend, when we went to Central Park! I’ve been here hundreds of times! It has to work!”
We tried all the buttons that didn’t have our names on them several times, we tried pulling the doors open, and Pedro even closed his eyes and charged the glass, but it wouldn’t break. We shouted, but nobody on the other side seemed to hear us.
After several minutes, I decided to try the “Anna” button. We felt another small jolt and saw the inside of an old-fashioned apartment. The glass slid open and Anna said, “This is my first apartment! I lived here with my husband six years until we could afford a bigger place! Oh my God! It even has the same couch, the same table and chairs, even the same little black and white TV!”
I tried “Pedro” and we were at the door of another small apartment, but it was much more modern. Pedro said, “Dios Mio! I’m home!” He walked in and looked around. “It’s the same as I left it!” He looked on the table. “There’s even the newspaper from two weeks ago!” He held up the “Rio Grande Sun”. The rest of us walked in. I moved a curtain to look outside, but saw smooth granite instead of a window.
We tried the buttons with the rest of our names. Sam’s was his house near the University of Chicago and Robin’s was her bedroom at her parent’s place, which was normally a few miles from Sam. I wasn’t surprised when I pressed the button for “Keisha” and found a large empty barracks, with sheets and a blanket on only one of the 60 bunks.
When we returned, the breakfast in the lobby had been replaced with chili, chicken soup, sandwiches, and soft drinks. Sam went back to the computer behind the reception desk. The rest of us walked to the pool and discovered towels and swimsuits in a cupboard. We decided to take a swim to relax, and used the small changing room. I caught Pedro staring at my body several more times and didn’t mind.
Sam ran in and shouted, “Come look! You need to see this! It … they … just come look!”
We followed him to the computer in the lobby. On the display we saw a very strange creature. It had three legs, three arms, and was tall and slender like a tree. At the end of each arm was a hand with eight fingers. The color and texture of the thing’s surface looked similar to a mushroom.
We stared quite a while, until Sam said, “They call themselves the Myconians.” He clicked through pictures of several more, which looked very similar.
“And I found this. They call us ‘Species WDT’. We … we’re … this is a zoo! We’re in an alien zoo! We’re the animals! They’re watching us!”
–
Over the next ten or so days, we all slept on sofas or chairs in the ‘hotel lobby’, since we didn’t want to be alone after our recent experiences. Most of the food on the lobby table was typical of a cafeteria. Nothing tasted bad, but it wasn’t great either. Supper was always a salad and either fried chicken, spaghetti, or roast beef and potatoes. Lunch was usually sandwiches, raw veggies, and soup. Any time all of us were away from the lobby, the food would change at mealtime. Several times one or more of us stayed and waited for it to change, but it wouldn’t if somebody was watching.
Anna spent a lot of time sitting in the elevator, watching the events at Grand Central Station. Robin usually sat next to her playing games on her tablet. Pedro and I talked about tactics and combat skills, preparing for any further threats we might face. We also joked and flirted a lot when the others weren’t around.
Sam kept working on the alien language on the computer, but it was slow going. He figured out a few paragraphs’ worth a day, and none of it seemed too important. He said the aliens kept mentioning us lacking ‘dimensional rifting’ and ‘progenation’, whatever those were.
I pressed the elevator button with my name “Keisha” and walked around the barracks room once or twice a day. There was a box of military meals in a corner, and I took out an enchilada and rice pack for lunch. I was getting bored with sandwiches. When I returned the next day, it had been replaced and the box was full again. The others said the same happened at their places.
After supper one evening Pedro whispered to me, “Would you like a shower? I need somebody to wash my back.”
I kissed him briefly and told everyone, “I think Pedro and I will stay at his place tonight.”
Pedro and Sam blushed as Robin asked her grandfather, “Are they gonna screw?”
Sam was flabbergasted and tried to find an answer. “Well, uh …”
Anna laughed and told her, “They’re adults and with the way they’ve been looking at each other, it’s about time.” She turned to Pedro and I. “Go have fun, you two.”
I felt blood rushing to my cheeks as Pedro took my hand and led me to the elevator. We were even more embarrassed as Robin asked, “What does screwing mean? Is that love? Or is it sex? And is sex just lots of kissing?”
Pedro and I laughed when the elevator doors started to close and Sam replied, “I’ll tell you when you’re 21.”
–
Pedro and I kissed and undressed in his bathroom, then washed each other intensely in the shower. He kissed me with gusto as he squeezed my boobs and butt, then washed me to a powerful orgasm. I returned the favor, being sure to aim his jet of cum toward the drain. After we dried each other, he carried me to his bed and started playing with my breasts again. I tickled his nipples as I asked, “Do you have condoms?” He took one from a nightstand drawer and handed it to me.
I was shocked and threw the comforter over us when the elevator appeared at the door. I was relieved Anna was the only one in it. When the glass slid open, she excitedly said, “The aliens are talking to Sam! Get dressed!”
–
Back in the lobby one of the Myconids was on the computer screen and we heard strange noises. Text appeared at the bottom of the video, “From Caretaker 9042: Lack rift dimension passable. Myconid gift to species WDT. Progenation deficit explain. Excellent soil type which?”
Sam said, “The word ‘progenation’ seems to be related to ‘progeny’, or offspring. I think they want to know why we don’t have more children. It seems they will give us ‘rift dimension’, whatever that is. I have no idea why they are asking about soil.”
We wondered and discussed it for a while. We were even more confused when another message appeared. “Soil nearby water. Choose excellent now.”
Robin walked out, then said, “Come to the pool! There are a bunch of flowerpots!” We walked the few steps there and saw two dozen terra cotta pots with different types of dirt and sand in them. I don’t think any of us had ever been so confused before.
The alien patiently waited on the computer screen for a long time, but we had no clue what to type or say. After maybe half an hour, the video session closed and the computer turned off.
–
Species WDT Cycle 21
Caretaker 9042 notes:
Video communication established with species WDT.
Offered 24 soil choices, none selected.
Current WDT status:
5 subjects, health 21/24 to 24/24.
Technology level acceptable.
Resilience acceptable.
Genetic material deposited in water but did not germinate.
All progenation attempts thus far have been unsuccessful.
–
Senior Administrator 0541 notes:
Supervisor 3614 composted for missing reports and lack of result.
Senior Administrator 0541 assuming direct supervision.
Resume per cycle reports.
Reduce feeding to 8/24 current until progenation explained or demonstrated.
Offer food reward and direct WDT to progenate each cycle.
Record and observe closely.
–
The morning after the aliens put flowerpots of dirt in the pool area and asked us to pick which type was excellent, I woke up in Pedro’s bed with him snuggled up to my back. We got each other off in the shower the night before, but were too surprised and confused to do any more. His big hand felt nice on my belly, but my bladder was about to burst. He kept snoring quietly while I lifted his arm off me and got up. I dressed and went down to the lobby after a quick trip to the bathroom.
I saw the food from last night was still there, no breakfast. I thought it might have gone bad, but when I touched the edge of the big salad bowl it was cold. The half-full tray of fried chicken was still hot. I shrugged and thought aloud, “I guess it’s better than the time my squad got stuck in the mountains and ate nothing but granola bars for three days. Fried chicken for breakfast it is.”
As they got out of the elevator, I asked everyone, “One of us must have been down here. The food didn’t change from last night.” They all shook their heads, none of them had.
After we ate Anna and Robin returned to their usual spot, watching Grand Central Station in the elevator. Sam went back to working on the computer. Pedro led me to the pool and handed me a swimsuit. I smiled and asked, “Ever tried skinny dipping? The others will be busy for hours.” We kissed and undressed, then enjoyed a relaxing nude swim and a long make-out session naked in the pool.
Pedro sat on the bottom at the shallow end and asked, “Want to sit in my lap?”
That sounded wonderful! I was beginning to sit as Sam rushed in and covered his eyes. “Sorry! Last night I made a mistake translating. They didn’t ask us to pick EXCELLENT soil, they wanted us to pick SEXY soil. They seem to think we reproduce by putting seeds or spores in the ground! I only know a few hundred of their words. How can I ever explain how human reproduction really works?”
Pedro blushed furiously and stumbled over his words as he asked, “Um, Keisha… ah… do you… could we show… would… want to have a baby with me? So we can just show the aliens? And get married when we get home?”
I kissed Pedro and looked deep into his dark eyes. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
I turned and said, “Sam, tell the aliens to watch us in the barracks in a little while. I’m gonna teach Pedro to SEXercise.” My new fiancé turned half a dozen shades of red despite his caramel-colored skin, and I felt something round and firm pressing into my thigh.
As Pedro stood I kissed him and held his sexily masculine body tight to mine. Sam may have been watching, but I was so focused on sucking Pedro’s tongue that I didn’t notice or care.
–
Eleven months later
I was glad Robin and Anna enjoyed helping Pedro and I take care of our new baby girl Astra. We thought the name fit, since she was born in space.
After nearly a year stuck at the ‘Jupiter Hilton’, the six of us woke up on the floor of Grand Central Terminal!
We wondered if we had been drugged, or if it was all a dream. Sam clarified things when he translated a pair of messages on Robin’s tablet:
Senior Administrator 0541 notes:
Species WDT reproduces in a disgusting and totally unbecoming manner. Instead of immobile baby mycelia dropping spores which are collected and gathered by mobile juveniles, they do not reproduce until startlingly late ages. Their juveniles do not collect spores or coat them with their fertilizing waste, either. They don’t even HAVE ancient seed-mother trees, to combine the spore packets with their own genes and return the progenation packets to the mobile juveniles for planting! They only have TWO sets of chromosomes instead of six! Only two parents instead of three!
They must deeply miss having our progenation packets, which juveniles plant in the sexiest soils they can find. They’ll never know the glory of contributing to a progenation blast as a packet explodes and scatters thousands of fertilized spores, or see the spores grow into our cute and wonderful baby mycelia!
They have no adults, only juveniles which reproduce among themselves! They cannot even plant their progenation material, it gets stuck inside them! Their progeny burst out of their bodies!
Suggest we dispose of them. They’re repulsive!
–
Seed-mother 0014 notes:
This grove of species WDT exhibits many positive traits but still seem quite distasteful and strange.
The other grove of WDT were violent to their own kind, let alone outsiders.
We will not give WDT dimensional rift technology to save themselves. They cannot be trusted with it.
Return subjects and move their galaxy far enough to avoid the eminent collision with antimatter galaxy.
Continue search and return when better test subjects are found.
–