The Earl of Erskalon 8

By Robert Ricov

Abducted by aliens and dumped on a strange new world, Gabriel does what any failed fashion designer turned gigolo would do—he goes in search of clients, cash, and a fabulous new wardrobe. What he finds is an array of bizarre alien brothels, outlandish alien beauties, just the right insult to ensure a sadistic Earl puts a price on his head, and the space pirates who hunt him for it.

Fleeing from planet to planet, negotiating and manipulating the aristocracy, Gabriel has no choice but to marry a Countess, who, as it turns out, is the Earl’s sister! After a duel that decides Gabriel’s fate and indeed the entire fate of a solar system, Gabriel survives to find love and what it means to be light-years from home and loving it!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Ricov
• Release date: May 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9780987576804

Book preview

The Earl of Erskalon 8

Autobiography of an Abductee

By

Robert Ricov

Copyright 2009 Robert Ricov

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organisations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

*****

Could I have but known what otherworldly delights upon those daybeds did dally, I would have topped up and toasted my glass and glasses proper. My naughty readers, let’s ring-a-ding our glasses, and by all means, let’s take a sippy-sippy!

—Gabriel Continent

*****

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1 - No doubt the drugs were to blame

Chapter 2 - Eden

Chapter 3 - The desert, the dump, the dumpster drifters

Chapter 4 - Pregnant city

Chapter 5 - The spectacle that slapped me awake

Chapter 6 - The Italian

Chapter 7 - Cintiana

Chapter 8 - An abysmal low

Chapter 9 - Terminally Ill Terminals

Chapter 10 - An employment opportunity

Chapter 11 - Lonatalana

Chapter 12 - Fille de joie

Chapter 13 - The painful end to a short chapter

Chapter 14 - The White Platform

Chapter 15 - Zellana

Chapter 16 - Riot

Chapter 17 - Supper soirée

Chapter 18 - The ball

Chapter 19 - Sellamina

Chapter 20 - Nice and Tight

Chapter 21 - Wanted

Chapter 22 - Chocolate, champagne, and a pirate’s death

Chapter 23 - Denizana

Chapter 24 - Deceived, devastated and destroyed

Chapter 25 - The spirit of capitalism

Chapter 26 - Erskalon 7: a woman’s world

Chapter 27 - A crashed wedding

Chapter 28 - Penetration

Chapter 29 - Defence strategy

Chapter 30 - Somewhat famous

Chapter 31 - Torn

Chapter 32 - The duel

Chapter 1 - No doubt the drugs were to blame

Waking made it painfully obvious that I had prior to that moment been rendered unconscious. I felt terribly ill, and my sight was blurred to the point of near blindness. I lay with my back to the floor, and looking around gave me cause to believe there were three figures moving about the room. I was so dizzy that I disregarded my senses and surrendered to the ill feelings, which were strangely accompanied by feelings of intense pleasure. I realised that I had been drugged, and judging by the effects, it had been a potent cocktail.

I tried to get up off the floor, but was forced down by thick cold fingers that held my head back, and my jaw wide open. I heard laughter. A high-pitched cackling that made my flesh crawl. I felt another hand violate my mouth with thumbs pushing something down my throat. I felt the painful intrusion as it passed my voice box to scrape the fleshy walls of my esophagus.

He’ll take another one, a voice said.

There was more laughter as I felt a slimy liquid wash whatever it was down to my stomach. The liquid had a metallic taste, and most of it poured down my neck to saturate my clothing. They then forced my jaw shut.

Look at him, laughed a voice.

We should give him more, laughed another.

Disgusting monkey experiment.

Again, large cold hands held my head back, held my jaw open. And again thumbs pushed something down my throat.

That was the last one. Watch, watch, someone laughed.

They let go of me. I was slapped hard. I managed to crawl up onto my knees, but then, the sudden half-aware acceptance of a sharp blow to the back of my head.

I awoke to an incredible brightness. It had definitely been drugs, but the likes of which I had never experienced. I raised my head from the unbearably hot sand, and before me a vast desert.

How on Earth did I end up here?

I made an attempt at standing, but the effects of the drugs had not yet entirely worn off. I felt ill, and yet intense feelings of pleasure washed over me. This was followed by that all-too-familiar feeling which forced me to hastily undo my trousers, but too late, I ejaculated. I could not focus, and I experienced great difficulty in attempting to see the horizon. I could do nothing but sit and try to make sense of it.

I awoke again. It was night. The unbearably hot sand was now unbearably cold against my back. There were so many unfamiliar constellations above me I could have been forgiven for imagining I was on another planet. I got up, and feeling better, I scanned the horizon for some clue as to in which direction I should walk.

Which desert is this?

They left me there for dead, whoever they were.

What happened?

I could see a soft glow in one direction upon the horizon, probably from some manner of settlement, and so I decided to walk toward it. It would have been deathly quiet if not for the ringing in my ears. I was exceedingly thirsty, hungry, tired, and each time I blinked, my eyelids would stick together. No doubt the drugs were to blame. I walked as best I could over and down the soft dunes, all the while squinting from the winds that had come all of a sudden; blowing the sharpest of sands against my face, like a million vengeful needles on attack. However, the winds did bring with them something promising: the unmistakable smell of a cooked meal. It was blowing from the direction of the horizon glow, and I needed no more encouragement to keep moving forward.

I struggled against the sandstorm for what felt like an hour until I reached a small town. The winds made it impossible to determine its size, but what houses I could see were all made from wood. I knocked with desperation at the door of the first house I came across. There was no answer, and so I moved on to the next house. Likewise no answer, and that time I even knocked forcefully at the windows. I then ran across the street to try yet another house. I knocked, but again no answer. In my desperation I made an attempt at kicking down the door. I kicked once. I then kicked harder a second time. I raised my foot for a third kick, but the door quickly opened to reveal a middle-aged man wearing a long dark beard. He pressed the barrel of some manner of rifle between my eyes.

Get in! he shouted.

I entered with the rifle’s pressure never leaving my forehead. An old woman closed the door behind me, and the man then used his rifle to push me into a chair.

Another one, the old woman said.

Ma, go get Bobby. Tell him to fetch Gerald.

But the storm, she protested.

Just do it, Ma, he commanded.

The old woman left the room and moments later came back with a small boy in tow. They walked to the front door and the boy turned to look at me before she ushered him outside. She then sat at table next to me and stared. The bearded man kept the rifle pressed to my forehead and uttered not a word.

It was in that position that I waited for what could have been the better part of fifteen minutes, and all the while attention to my hunger and thirst made the barrel against my head seem like a mild annoyance. The boy finally returned, but the open door brought intense winds upon which a sharp spray of sand rode to force my eyes shut. When I reopened them there stood before me a rather agreeable looking man of about fifty years of age. He was thin, with blue eyes, white long hair, and he wore a white beard.

Newcomer, a? he mused. Well, what’s your name?

I did not know where I was, nor did I know who they were, and so I though it best to use one of my professional names.

Gabriel. It’s Gabriel. Please, can I have some water?

He motioned for the old woman to fetch me some.

Woke up in the desert, did you? How far?

My glass of water arrived and I drank it with haste. The woman then poured me another.

How far? I asked, not knowing what he meant.

How far did you have to walk? How long did it take?

An hour, maybe. You’re American. Is this . . . America?

The man named Gerald laughed. The other two just smiled with amusement.

America. That’s the best one yet. He continued laughing. If only!

I was confused. Was I still in Australia then? I remembered nothing of what or how, save for the blurred violation of my throat. Trying to remember not only confused, but aroused an unbearable pain in my head. I could remember who I was, of course; but there was a gap in my memory, and I wasn’t sure how wide.

Gerald placed his hand on the other man’s strange rifle and gently lowered it away from my head.

Adam, there’s no need for that anymore. The Lord has obviously seen fit to send us another of his flock.

I chose not to judge the comment.

What kind of rifle is that? I asked.

Tomorrow. We’ll tell you everything tomorrow, Gerald replied. Elizabeth, please fix Gabriel something to eat. You’ll have to put him up for the night as well.

All right then, Gabriel, said the old woman. First thing you need is a bath.

Gerald then left the house, and after a hot bath, I dressed in a modest suit of clothes that Adam had left out for me. It consisted of a well-starched white collared shirt, bristly dark brown trousers, and a pair of thick grey woollen socks. I went back downstairs to find Elizabeth reheating some manner of meat that was floating in a brown transparent liquid, which she glorified with the name of gravy. Upon the table she placed a half-eaten loaf of rock-hard brown bread, a glass of water, and a large wooden spoon that showed evidence of its prior use as a cooking utensil. It could only have been my intense hunger that saw me through the meal. Adam and his mother Elizabeth sat at table for the entire duration to stare at me.

That was very good. Thank you.

You’re welcome, Elizabeth replied, only next time I’m sure you won’t forget to say grace.

I pretended to be embarrassed by this.

Er, yes, of course. I’m sorry.

OK then, Adam said. It’s way past our bedtime. Come, Gabriel, I’ll show you to your room.

The room was upstairs. It was small, with a shut window and small single bed; but a dusty rocking horse sat broken in a corner, telling me the room once belonged to a child. I did not ask for fear of yet another awkward moment. Before going to sleep I opened the window; but the sandstorm scratched against the shutters, rattling a heavy noise as sand penetrated their fractured slats. I closed the window and sat on the bed. I looked about the room. There was a strangeness to the décor that I could not place. It was all obviously handcrafted, and yet it all had an otherworldly quality to it, almost as if from a strange dream. And then there was the rifle, which looked so much like a sci-fi prop that in hindsight I was surprised I felt threatened by it. I went to sleep.

Chapter 2 - Eden

It was the sound of children’s laughter that prompted me to rise bed and open the window. Its glass, mismatched with thick and thin pieces, various colours and shapes, was anything but transparent due to the utter filth. The shutters were now quiet save for the childish sounds that played their way through the splintered cracks. I pushed to open, but it must have rained, for the sand had become like cement, locking the shutters into place. I tugged at their chubby slats, then pushed, then kicked to have chunks of sand spew forth from the cracking wood. The sun was blinding; but my eyes soon adjusted to see the sandstorm had blown over, making way for a very warm and sunny morning. The children were playing with a ball out in the yard behind the house. I dressed and went downstairs to find Gerald, Adam and Elizabeth at table.

Good morning, Gabriel, Gerald said.

Good morning. What time is it?

Half past eleven.

Really? I’m sorry.

That’s fine. It looked as though you needed the sleep, so we let you take the liberty.

Thank you. I appreciate that.

Elizabeth placed a breakfast of toast and jam on the table.

Excuse me for asking, but you wouldn’t happen to have coffee, would you?

No, I’m afraid not, she replied.

Well, eat up, said Gerald as he rose table. Afterward we’ll show you something to help you believe us.

Believe what?

Believe us when we tell you where you are.

Where am I?

Gerald smiled then left through the front door. Adam and Elizabeth said nothing to answer my question, but cast me a look that suggested I give up on the asking. I found these people and this place somewhat strange, but I felt at ease in the belief that they meant me no harm. I remembered to say grace, and even though I had never said it before, I drew a rough version from my memories of it on television. I looked around the room as I ate. Apart from the strange oven, which looked as though it was homemade, there seemed to be no evidence of the modern world at all. When I finished breakfast I offered to wash the dishes but Elizabeth wouldn’t hear of it. She even insisted I leave them on the table for her to collect.

Come on, Gabriel, it’s time, said Adam with his hand on my shoulder.

We walked out onto the sandy downtrodden street and all the people about stopped to take a good look at me. Some came to shake my hand and introduce themselves. I heard all manner of accents: German, French, and South African. They were all dressed in identical tones of brown and white, and in a very basic style devoid of any fashion sense. Had I stumbled upon some manner of cult? For a moment I thought about running, but where could I go? I decided to keep my wits about me, and to see what this unbelievable thing was that they had promised to show.

Gerald joined us in the street and led us to what appeared to be a large wooden barn. I turned around to see at least three hundred people behind us, probably the town’s entire population. Gerald allowed me to enter the building first, and one glance at the interior revealed it to be the town hall.

Please take a seat, Gabriel, said a young oriental woman with a smile.

I sat down and watched Gerald take the stand. Smiling, he patiently waited for everyone else to also sit.

Friends, family, he said, then paused to look around at everyone. Last night the Lord saw fit to send us a fellow human through the storm.

Fellow human?

For the Father is just, and kind, and would never leave us alone in the vast darkness of space. No matter upon which vile planet the evil ones may cast us, I say unto you, behold! The proof sits before you yet again! I tell you, I have seen it. No planet is Godless! Jesus went out into the wilderness to be tested, and my brothers and sisters we are all being tested. And like us, Gabriel has sinned. But the wilderness has washed it away. The desert winds have purged him of his sins. Amen!

What the fuck? I murmured, under my breath.

Everyone in the room began to sing a ridiculous hymn full of the most preposterous lyrics, about the devil in space, and a shepherd rounding them up amongst the stars, or something to that effect.

Gabriel, you look frightened, but you need not be. Come, the proof I had promised you.

Gerald stepped down from the stand and walked outside. All the town’s people followed and so did I. Gerald rested his hand on my shoulder and showed me his watch.

Gabriel, look, it’s now five minutes to one. At one o’clock a spaceship is going to fly by overhead. This will prove to you beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are not on Earth, but on another planet.

I looked around and saw that everyone was looking up at the sky. I wanted to accuse them all of insanity, but I thought five minutes was all that I needed to wait to see them realise it for themselves. When the five minutes had passed I looked at Gerald with an accusing expression. He just smiled and motioned for me to look up. What I saw nearly knocked me off my feet! A spaceship, perhaps ten times larger in size than the town, slowly flew by at about five hundred metres from the ground. It was black, shaped like an unused roll of toilet paper, and hummed very softly. It flew horizontally, that is to say, the hollow cylinder that ran through it seemed to suck in air, which pulled it along the sky. There were also sporadic bursts of green electricity inside the cylinder. A million questions entered my mind in but a second. How? Where was it going? Where was I? What do I do about it? I was utterly speechless.

Yes, it passes by every second day at one o’clock, Gerald said, with an air of nonchalance.

I looked around to see the town’s people staring at me with the smug smiles one often sees from cultists, who thrive on thinking they know something that others do not, and regardless of the verity of that knowledge, they use it to feel superior.

Gerald?

He laughed, then placed his hand on my shoulder and walked me through the town. I watched the others disperse and go about their daily duties.

You’re on a planet called Tailatia.

How?

Like the rest of us, you were abducted.

What?

Think back. How did you wind up in that desert? One moment you were going about your business on Earth, and the next?

Perhaps it was the shock of seeing the spaceship, or perhaps it was Gerald’s words, but at precisely that moment I began to remember. And Gerald was right, I was going about my business, and that business was in bed.

It was late in the morning when the phone rang me awake. Beside it lay nine hundred dollars in a pile of fifties, champagne-soaked but nice and neat. It was supposed to afford me a lay-in, but with that incessant ringing there was no such. Business of late had become somewhat slow and that cash was the first I had seen in a month. I would have liked to think of my deluxe rooms at the Radisson Plaza a permanent address; however, my evening’s earnings would, no doubt, be poured into what I owed the Plaza. I was certain the manager would see to it, forgiving as she was of my nighttime affairs.

Hello?

Morning, Robert. Or is it Gabriel today? Or Conrad?

Er . . .

Kristie, here.

Oh, from the agency. Good morning, Kristie.

I didn’t wake you, did I?

No, I’m up. You have this number?

Of course. You put it in the registration form.

For the life of me I could not remember doing it, and I was quite certain of the fact that I did not know the hotel number, and I certainly did not let anyone know where I had put up. Kristie clearly had me at a disadvantage.

Anyway, she continued, I have a job you may be interested in. It’s in the city, this afternoon at three o’clock. Can you make it?

I was hungover and still trying to wake up; but two bookings in two days? I could not afford to say no.

Yes, I can make it.

Excellent. It’s a short-term contract, just the basics; but the client has requested romance and the fate-illusion.

I’m sure I can accommodate.

Have you got a pen ready?

I was already busy rolling a ballpoint in verticals on a notebook to get its juices flowing.

Yes.

You’re meeting her in a café on Hunter Street. It’s called The Pink Pearl.

Yes, I know it. And her name?

Withheld. It’s your job to find that out from her. Good luck.

Thank you, Kristie.

She hung up. I rose bed and made my toilet, then left the hotel to find a temperate Sydney noon. I was on my way to a job I needed, but in no condition to play a role, convincingly at least. I therefore hoped the client would be attractive, which would eliminate the need for performance. I was sharply dressed, but the appointment was only an excuse to attire so. I reveled in the attention I received from merely changing the cut of my cloth.

I arrived at the café, where I saw a woman of unparalleled beauty in the window. She was at table, reading the daily and sipping away at a cup of coffee in a manner that seemed to indicate her life had turned out exactly as she had planned. She looked up at me and smiled. Was that the invitation? Was she the client? It was a dangerous game she played, not arming me with her name prior to the meeting; however, her beauty more than justified my acceptance of the invitation, if an invitation is what it was. I entered the café in a style that suggested irregardless of her presence, it was my intention to enter all along. I sat at her table. Or was it the table next to hers?

Gabriel!

Gerald, I replied, with a start.

Are you listening?

Yes, sorry. I don’t remember how I ended up in the desert.

It will come back to you. It’s the drugs. You see, Gabriel, we were all brought here by the evil ones. The demons of this world. But I was not the first to arrive. This town existed long before my arrival, and when I was brought here I knew it was God’s will. The town’s folk had all succumbed to the evil influence of the translation net, fornicating with each other, committing sins against God.

The translation net?

Yes, there are thousands of gigantic towers spread across this planet. They emit a type of electromagnetic radiation designed to affect the brain so that all the different alien races on this planet can understand each other. It works, but it also amplifies our base desires and passions, and we fight against that everyday.

I had my doubts, as I was not particularly horny.

So there are cities on this planet?

Yes.

And if I were to go there I would understand what the aliens were saying, and they would understand me?

You cannot go there! Gerald exclaimed, with an eye twitching. None of us can go there! This town is your salvation. You can build for yourself a normal life here, Gabriel. A human life. Those cities are rife with sin, and besides, you would never make it across the desert alive anyway.

But—

There are no buts, Gabriel.

Then why—

There are no whys!

Gerald placed his shaking hands on my shoulders. He closed his eyes and began praying, which I believed was more for the purpose of calming himself down than for my salvation. It was not the news that I was on an alien planet that I found disturbing, but rather, Gerald and the town’s people. I resolved to behave in a manner that would work in my favour, but I would not accept the idea of spending the rest of my days in that absurd little town. Gerald had allowed himself to become so infuriated by my simple question that he laboured to wish me a pleasant afternoon before storming off down the street. Left there, all I could think to do was return to Adam’s house.

Well, we can put you up until you finish building a home of your own. You’ll have to earn your keep though.

It was a harsh reality to accept. My keep was usually earned in bed, at bar or table. It was always easy, always pleasant. A cordial introduction followed by salacious instruction. The glasses filled then emptied. The bed full then empty. And these thoughts could not but trigger more of what was lost.

I entered the café and sat at the table next to hers. I ordered a coffee, then contemplated the most prudent method with which to make her acquaintance. After all, she had requested the fate-illusion. However, I did not have to contemplate for long. She took the arts section from the daily and passed it to me. It was as though she wanted to make me aware of her ability to accurately discern my type.

Would you like to read this? she asked, smiling with confidence.

Thank you.

There really is nothing of any interest in the paper today.

In my experience there never is.

Oh? Well, I find unearthing the lies amusing.

Really? And how do you recognise a lie when you see it?

Knowledge. Experience.

I can tell you have both in abundance.

She laughed.

I’m in the army, she said. I was stationed in Iraq. The media doesn’t intentionally report lies, but it’s not the exact truth, either.

Yes, I have always suspected as much. So, what is your role in the military?

I’m a Mission Commander.

Interesting. Now you’ll have to tell me more. What was it that made you choose for yourself that type of career?

Well, I have always thought if there has to be someone behind the red button, I would rather it were me.

I know exactly what you mean. I’m Gabriel.

Angela. So what is it you do, Mr. Gabriel?

I design.

And what do you design? she laughed.

Fashion.

The reply was not entirely false; I was a fashion designer, or at least I tried to be. I had studied the art at college, but I was forced to fall back on this—the other art.

For hours I delighted in her conversation. It must have been two, three at least, for we had unwittingly consumed several cups of coffee, and that no doubt helped fuel our tête-à-tête. To my surprise Angela was a sci-fi enthusiast, and I was delighted to converse with her on the subject. We were politely thrown out of the café at half past seven in the p.m. and so forced to search for another establishment to take refreshment. After several failed attempts at securing a suitable table, I remembered that Lévesque’s 1943 Boudoir had recently opened for business. The Boudoir was in the general vicinity of the Radisson Plaza, which would certainly add convenience should the evening progress favourably, for I was still not sure if she was my client.

Gabriel, Adam said, to interrupt my reminiscence. You can start by fetching supplies from the general store tomorrow morning.

I would be happy to.

Yes, well you know where your room is.

I do.

I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Good night.

Good night, Adam.

The next morning I joined the breakfast table to find Elizabeth had made me a list of items to acquire. All natural and homemade, of course, as they were completely cut off from civilisation. They operated on a barter system, and so I carried with me a basket of goods with which to trade. The woman who worked at the store was surprisingly beautiful, and I wondered how I had not noticed her the day before. There was also an elderly gentleman present whom I surmised to be the store owner and quite possibly her father.

Good morning, I said, as I entered.

Good morning, Gabriel. I’m Eden.

Everyone seemed to know my name.

A pleasure to make your acquaintance, I replied.

Eden was tall, slender, with skin so alabaster that it pushed the tiny black freckles on and around her nose into extreme obviousness. Her eyes were of the deepest green, and slightly shrapneled with black discolorations. Her hair was black and she wore it in an untidy bun. Untidy because of the locks that had fallen out of place to softly caress her shoulders and dance around her eyes. She was attired in the same drab garments as were the other ladies of the town. The same tones of brown and white, but Eden’s style was all her own, and she fashioned a quirk to her seams.

The elderly gentleman climbed down the ladder from which he was stacking items onto a shelf.

Good morning, Gabriel. I’m Edmond Winterton.

And to you, sir, a pleasure, I said, as I shook his hand.

I placed him at about seventy years of age. He had short grey hair, the kind that still showed traces of a darker youth. His eyes were blue, and still had a touch of the rebellious adolescent jailed behind the bars of their old silver lashes, but who seemed to at times momentarily escape through their darting rapid-blinking way. He carried a walking stick, though I could see he had no real need of one; but he seemed to be a man who had embraced his age, and all the accoutrements that went with it.

I see Elizabeth has you running errands. Well, so be it. You’ll have to learn sooner or later, it may as well be sooner.

Mr. Winterton, who was obviously English, took my basket and put it on the counter. I handed him the shopping list and he went about fetching and exchanging the goods, all the while explaining the trade values of each item. I could barely hear a word he said; I was completely distracted by Eden’s beauty.

So there it is, Mr. Winterton said, as he presented me with a freshly stocked basket.

I struggled to take my eyes off of his daughter.

Gabriel! he said, rather abruptly. You didn’t hear a word, did you?

Of course I did, sir.

You know, Gabriel, not everyone in this town sees eye to eye. That religious nonsense they had you put up with yesterday, well, what I mean is, you’ll find like-minded people here. Not all of us are cult nuts.

I was indeed happy to hear him say that, and I felt his perspective might overlook any flirtations I hoped to make with Eden; but needless to say, very discreet flirtations.

Over the course of the next few weeks I searched for any excuse to visit their store. Mr. Winterton did not seem to mind, and I dare say he even grew fond of my company, as I did of his. He told me about the translation net, and how it even translated the written word, which enables one to read any language on the planet. He also told me that many of the town’s people were abducted from non-English speaking countries, so I could see the translation net at work whenever I heard people speak with a foreign accent. I often asked him about Tailatia, and he answered me as best he could, from his limited knowledge. I was curious about the planet, and it was obvious to Mr. Winterton and his daughter that I wished to see it. Although Eden said nothing, I could see she was troubled by this, and unfortunately it made her keep me at an emotional distance.

Mr. Winterton would close the store every afternoon to go upstairs and sleep for two hours before coming back down to reopen. I would often visit about half an hour before he would retire so that I could stay and help Eden with the cleaning, stacking and sorting.

Eden, what do you call this vegetable? I asked, as I removed a bizarre elongated purple thing from a box filled with many like it.

We call it a foot-long wobble potato, she replied, but with a smile that hid a laugh.

I could see the potato from Eden’s point of view, so I did not need to ask why she had smiled. She was standing on a ladder and I passed them to her one at a time so that she could place them onto a shelf. She tried to contain herself, but she would burst out into hysterics each time I wobbled one at her. It was the touching of hands which I relished. I used the passing of items to make it look like an accident, but our fingers would always meet. Then there was the moment when we both held onto what looked like a black apple. Her fingers were over mine for more than a minute, as she looked about the store with feigned indecisiveness as to where she wanted it put.

The space in between the counter and the shelves upon the wall behind it was quite narrow, and I was indeed glad of it. We continuously passed by each other there, and in so doing our bodies brushed in slow motion. How many times I could not say, but each time she would deny me that kiss.

Gabriel, you’re going to leave, aren’t you?

The question was not entirely unexpected, but all the same I was loath to answer it.

I have thought about leaving. I would like to see the planet, and the truth is I hate this town.

She cast a solemn gaze at the floor.

You hate it?

Not you, Eden. Not your father . . . The town.

She looked up at me. It was a look that had the power to at once change my mind, and so I resolved to stay for her, and for what her eyes had promised.

The following afternoon I walked across town to make my daily visit to the store. Blocking my way was Gerald with a group of men who were holding hands in a handshake manner, but without performing the shaking motion that goes with it. Gerald became excited as he saw me approach.

Gabriel, come, I have an exercise I would like you to participate in, he said, as he placed his hand upon my shoulder. You’ve met John?

I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, I replied.

The ginger-bearded man, who could obviously kill me with one stroke of his fist, extended his hand and so we shook. After thirty seconds or so I began to feel uncomfortable with it, but he would not release me.

What I would like for the two of you to do is try to overpower each other. Gabriel, I want you to push John’s hand away from yourself, and John, I want you to push Gabriel’s hand away from you.

To what purpose? I asked.

Please, you’ll see.

The contest began. I pushed as hard as I could and John did the same. After a brief moment he allowed his arm to go limp which made me the victor.

You let me win?

No, Gabriel, you lost, Gerald said. Now look at what you should’ve done.

He then took John’s hand, and the two of them just stood there peacefully and smiling without any struggle.

You see? We are both winners.

But you told me it was a contest, I said, more than frustrated.

Gabriel, how can there be contests when we are all created equal?

I should have taken my boot to his arse; but then he probably would have taken his boot to mine in an attempt to show me the equality. I decided it best to simply continue in my walk to the store, which upon entry I found to be unusually quiet. Mr. Winterton informed me that Eden had gone to make deliveries. He offered me a cup of tea, which I accepted.

So, Gabriel, how are you getting along then?

I did not give a verbal reply, as I was sure he could see the frustration written all over my face.

Never mind, you don’t need to answer that.

Sir, I’ve had an idea.

Oh?

Perhaps some of us could go to the city and find some manner of lawful body that we could ask to send us back to Earth.

You’re not the first to come up with that idea. We tried it. I did, when I was much younger, with two others. You see, we used to trade with some local nomads, freshly grown produce and teas, and the three of us managed to convince them to give us a lift into the city.

So, what happened?

The law. Our abductions were performed illegally, and so as far as the government is concerned we don’t even exist, and it’s illegal to interfere with Earth anyway. So they know we are here, but because of the influence of the Sentient Beings Rights Organisation we are left in relative peace.

So why did you come back to this town? Why didn’t you stay in the city?

"Gerald held my daughter as a guarantee that I would return with the others; but what he told the town was that because she was born here