The following morning was a bit cold and drab. The boys woke up in the rundown bedroom with no real expectations for the day. They gathered their things and prepared for another day of lying low.
Grandfather scurried over to where Socrates was practicing stretching like a cat – something he was a bit slow at – and held out the poster. "Socrates, lad, would you mind signing this for me?"
Socrates, his mind on other things, absentmindedly signed the poster with an ink pen and resumed what he was doing.
Grandfather turned his attention to Andy, who was putting on a fresh pair of socks. "And you, Andrew," he said brightly, holding out the pen. "Could I have yours?"
Andy looked at him suspiciously. "What for?" he demanded.
"I'm going to have this framed to remember this adventure. It'll be something of comfort in my declining years."
It was the first nice thing Andy had had said to him in a long time, so he was moved enough he was convinced to sign it. Maybe the debilitated old hamster cared after all.
Grandfather hid a smirk. Four down, one to go. He looked over at Calvin, who was making sure he'd remembered to pack his rocket ship underpants. He needed to be a little bit slyer with him.
"Calvin, my boy, would you mind – ?"
"No," Calvin replied shortly, not even looking at him.
"I was only asking…"
"Yeah, I know what you were asking. Now shut up."
The boys were confined to quarters all day. Their meals would be brought to them. There was simply no one they could trust. One wrong move, and they'd be arrested. They knew the bounty hunters would be keeping an eye on them, but there had been no sign of them to date. Keeping a low profile was what Galaxoid had decided to be the best course of action. It didn't exactly make complete sense to Calvin, who felt that just going about the confines of the town and going about their business would be enough to convince the law that they weren't menaces to society.
Andy, meanwhile, was growing restless. There was little to do in the bedroom. He was much more interested in the building. If there was one thing he loved doing, it was wandering around buildings he was unfamiliar with. He was the type of kid who would wander away and ride the elevator just to see what the next floor of his dad's office had to offer. He couldn't control himself as he approached their door and pushed it open.
Across the corridor, he found himself staring at the opposite door, which didn't look old and wooden like the others, suggesting to him that it wasn't someone's living quarters. Curious, he looked up and down the corridor. He could hear the faint sound of a crowd of people downstairs, suggesting that something was going on. Perhaps a party, or lunch being served, or some sort of argument. Whatever it was, it seemed to have absorbed the other residents downstairs to investigate, leaving him in an empty corridor.
Satisfied that no one was there to catch him, the boy reached across to press against the metal door handle. Pausing momentarily to make sure nothing was attached to it – no alarms or nets or buckets of gasoline – he was certain it was safe to put his whole weight against it. He pushed the door open and found himself looking out into the early morning light of an alien planet. Moments later, he was joined from behind by Calvin, Hobbes, Socrates and Sherman, all looking over his shoulder at the world outside. They'd found a fire escape.
Stepping out onto the metal gantry, they looked out at the world beyond the shelter. It was vast, empty and beautiful. Sure, there were heaps of broken down junk strewn everywhere, but there were no people. No citizens of any sort taking up the landscape.
Feeling a surge they hadn't felt in a long time, Andy led them down the fire escape, clanking down as they descended about five flights. They clattered and banged all the way down, making it to the alley, wherein they found loads of old machines and scrap metal from tools and objects left to fend for themselves in the weather. The gang ran around the grimy playground, enjoying the fresh air and the strange new sky.
Then, Hobbes spotted a gate in the tall wooden fence before them. Picking the lock with one of his claws, he was able to swing it open and reveal what lay beyond. It was a field. Logically, it didn't add up. There should've been more rotted old junk lying around. It was just how things worked in the universe. Anything nice or natural was destined to be destroyed by obscene amounts of waste. To find something so untainted just sitting there, unspoiled by the rest of the universe, was just too huge to ignore.
Calvin put a cautious toe out into the field. Nothing happened. Just the grass under his shoe bending slightly. Realizing it was safe, he walked out into the field, allowing the others to trail behind him. They walked out towards the middle, heads held high, gazing up at the purple sky that was steadily turning turquoise, and they spun around in clumsy circles, steadily getting dizzy. They felt that freedom again. That sort of feeling you only get when you know for an absolute fact no one's watching.
"… What now?" Socrates asked.
Calvin looked over at Hobbes, and they both grinned. Calvin pulled his hypercube out of his pocket and rifled through it, pulling out five identical masks and a volleyball. The others grinned eagerly and put on the masks. Too eager to go to the trouble of putting out wickets and everything, they settled for the mallets and hobby horse, and they proceeded to chase each other around the field, yelling out their random rules and having all sorts of fun. They figured it wasn't as bad as the previous night, seeing as how they were still within visual range of the shelter. It was right across the street, so it was just a matter of getting over there if need be.
They were really starting to enjoy themselves and the frenetic release of energy they were finally getting. So it was a shame that it had to be interrupted by a forceful voice coming from the gate.
"You hooligans get off my property!"
They all stopped in the middle of the game. Calvinball was rarely interrupted in such a way. They looked in the direction of the gate and saw a large burly creature with six angry eyes and a very clean overcoat was standing there, holding it open and looking very frustrated at having his grass stepped on.
The five of them looked at each other. None of them wanted to leave, but this fellow looked like the sort who would trample on any enjoyment if it meant keeping his property un-stepped-on. This was just the way of the universe. No wonder the field had been so nice. A humorless fellow like this had gone to great lengths to ensure that his ownership was not trodden upon. He looked the sort who would murder someone just for breathing on his stuff incorrectly. Different from the businessman on the star ship, yet in many ways the same.
The bourgeois owner stepped aside of the gate, indicating that he was itching to slam it angrily behind them when they eventually left. He looked the sort who would call the police as well. With no choice, they removed their masks and put everything back in the hypercube. The interlude was over, and it was time to return to the monotony of their room. They marched single file through the gate and past the alien, with Socrates the last to pass through.
"Shall we phone the hospital and see if we can save your field?"
His response was the angry slam they had been anticipating.
Grandfather stirred from the nap he had been taking. He looked around and saw that the room was totally empty. The boys had disappeared, so it was time for him to start in on his plan. He picked up the poster and went over towards Calvin's suitcase. He needed the boy's genuine signature if his plan was to go off accordingly. He dug through, searching for something he could work with. It was mostly just clothes and comic books, but there was nothing with his handwriting.
But then he saw something in the corner. It was a few crumpled papers. Digging through them hopefully, he quietly hoped they were worth his time. He found a history paper that was horribly inaccurate, talking about how Martians had built the pyramids and were eaten by the Egyptians. That entertained him for about fifteen minutes. Then he found some humorously incorrect math problems that said that seven plus six equaled forty-seven. That was good for a few chuckles. What really fascinated him, however, was an old book report about "The Boxcar Children", which suggested that the kids were fugitives who manipulated the events of the story so they could trick an old man into believing they were actually children. The subject matter was topped off from a fancy scribble that, if you squinted and tilted your head to the left, looked like it said, "Calvin the Bold".
Grinning triumphantly, he snatched it away, then grabbed several sheets of paper and made a run out the door and scurried through an air duct, traveling bumpily down the metal tunnels, trying to keep a good grip on the papers. He slid and slalomed left and right until he reached the absolute bottom. It was the basement, filled with old junk and trash that had been left to rot. More importantly, there was no one in sight.
Grandfather climbed out and sought out a nice place to sit down and set everything up. There was a tall platform in the middle of it all that looked ideal. He climbed up and laid out all his findings. He set the poster aside and proceeded to try to replicate Calvin's signature on the blank sheets of paper. Replicating signatures was difficult, but it was something he was good at. He worked slowly and carefully, trying to master Calvin's childish scribble. It wasn't easy trying to make it look just as illegible as the boy had made it, but he was patient and determined.
After half an hour of practice, he managed three signatures in a row that looked close enough, he decided he would take a chance and write it on the poster. He focused and went to the crumpled poster and gripped his pen carefully. He signed it as steadily as he could. He watched eagerly and happily as it looked perfect, and his joy quadrupled when he finished, and the desired outcome occurred. The five signatures on the poster began to glow a faint yellow light, giving off a slight energy. He'd done it. It was complete. He could start now.
There was a clatter from the nearby stairwell, and he reacted quickly, pulling away the papers and hiding behind the wooden post beside the platform. He could hear them coming downstairs, whoever they were. He wasn't about to let his scheme fail just because there were nosy folk sneaking around.
"They're not here," Nebular's voice said as he entered the room.
"Well, anyone can tell they're not here!" Galaxoid grumbled, looking around the junk that filled the basement.
"So where've they gone?"
"Oh, who knows at this point? They've probably run out on the town again!"
"Well, as long as they stay within the city…"
"I know! But I want them were I can find them! Who'd have thought looking after five earthlings would be so infuriating?"
"Come on. Maybe they went back to the room."
"Oh please…"
But they left anyway, frustrated and annoyed.
Grandfather went to peek out from around the corner and see if they were truly gone and ended up tripping over a lever that was oddly placed just outside the platform. Of all the places to have one! Then he felt the world shift, and he began to travel upwards. He realized this wasn't just any old platform. It was some kind of elevator. It was raising him up towards the ceiling. It was ascending rather slowly, but he was still alarmed to find himself headed for the wooden tiles above, so he braced himself for his gradual impact.
Then, the ceiling seemed to disappear and a bright light shined down on him. Grandfather briefly wondered if his heart had finally given out and he was being assumed into heaven. He wasn't looking forward to what the almighty would have to say before they realized a clerical error and sent him even deeper than the basement.
But now he heard music, which was clearly not meant to be part of the heavenly chorus. He was on some sort of elevator that brought him up into what appeared to be some sort of loading dock. He could only stand stock still as his eyes adjusted and he found himself in a room that was filled with creatures that looked like they were none too happy to see him. They were all of various heights and sizes, with a few different species here and there. But they were all glaring down at him.
Grandfather looked around. The source of the music was a stereo on a table nearby. Clearly, the break room was part of the workroom. That might suggest that these people were already irritated, what with their poor working conditions. They towered over the elderly hamster with annoyance and disbelief.
"Who are you, and what the heck are you doing, playing with the elevator?" one of them asked.
Grandfather cleared his throat. "Now see here, young man, I was only trying to…"
Another one leaned in close. "And why are you wearing that?"
Grandfather froze. "Wearing what…?"
"Don't think we can't see through your disguise. We know your type. Lots of them are paying customers. Good and decent. But you…"
Grandfather quickly got the idea that these guys were smarter than they looked. Acting with surprising agility, he gathered the papers in one fell swoop and darted away, diving under the table and heading for the nearest air duct. He managed to squeeze inside. He could hear them shouting and bellowing after him, but their threats and fury merely echoed around the ducts as he got away.
As he made it to the safety of a junction, he mopped his brow in relief. That had been a very close one. Still, he had his prize, so he set to work with the poster. Now was not the time to make use of it. He would wait awhile before he completed his mission.
Their experience in the field had left a bad taste in their mouths, so the gang decided to return to the building and get some breakfast. The cuisine had seemed intriguing the night before, and it was time to see what this civilization's equivalent to pancakes was. They walked up the narrow hallways towards the back of the building.
On their way, they passed a few other aliens who just ignored them and went about their business. They were just rounding the final corner towards the kitchen when a tall thin female alien passed them. She seemed about to ignore them like the others, but a moment later, she did a double take in their direction. They knew right away they'd been recognized and tried to brush past her.
"Goodness me, it's you!" she exclaimed, holding out a scaly hand to Socrates in particular.
The others ducked around the corner and escaped, but Socrates stayed to see what she had to say. He smiled amiably with an air of false cluelessness. "I'm sorry?"
Her confidence faltered at his apparent confusion. "You're… You must be!"
"Must be what?"
"Him! From the… Well, there were posters and…"
"Oh, that! No, I'm not."
"But you must be…"
"No, I'm not."
"… You look just like him…"
Socrates feigned surprise. "Do I? You know, you're the first one who's ever said that. It's flattering, really, but no one else…"
"No, you do," she said, gesturing to a mirror. "Take a look."
Socrates looked at his reflection, but frowned and shook his head. "Nah, not really. My eyes are lighter. And the nose… Look at the nose."
"Your nose is very…," she said automatically, but stopped herself, instead trying to get a better look at him in the light.
"You think so?" he asked, feeling it over.
"Yes, I do."
"Well, you clearly know him better than me."
She looked a bit affronted at that. "I most certainly do not! He's nothing more than a casual acquaintance!" she said with some dignity.
Socrates smirked mischievously. "That's what you say."
She looked worried. "What've you heard?"
"Oh, please. Everyone knows. Talking about it frequently."
She looked uneasy. "Really?"
"Yeah, but I wouldn't hear of it. 'Not her', I said. 'She's got too much class for something so low down'."
She smiled warmly. "I knew I could rely on you."
Socrates just looked down humbly.
She looked him over once more before remarking, "You don't look a thing like him."
Socrates just nodded and turned around the corner, rejoining his friends who had been listening in. "She looks more like him than I do," he muttered, brushing past them towards the kitchen while they just chuckled.
Sometime later, Galaxoid and Nebular wandered back into the bedroom, looking at the empty beds in absolute depression. They'd done it again. They'd run off and probably weren't coming back anytime soon. Even Grandfather had disappeared. Nebular quietly started to clear things away while Galaxoid just slumped in a chair.
"… Maybe they just went out for a walk," Nebular said, trying to be reassuring.
"No, that's too simple for them," Galaxoid said sadly. "They're out there now, causing trouble."
"As long as they stay within the city, they're fine."
"I know. They're probably standing right on the city limits just to torment me."
Nebular sighed as he put the suitcases away. "Galaxoid, it's all in your mind."
"No, this has become a battle of nerves between Calvin and me."
"You give the boy too much credit. He's not out to cause trouble. Not when his life's on the line."
"How much do you think it would cost to get a ball and chain on them?"
Nebular rolled his eye.
Moments later, they heard a smattering of voices coming up the corridor.
Galaxoid stood up. "Right. It's time I was more authoritative with them. Show them who is boss."
Nebular sighed. "You've always been like this in stressful situations. Remember when we were in the academy? You always fretted about the size of your spiral notebooks. Thought you couldn't pass unless it was twelve by nine."
Galaxoid ignored him and straightened his hat, preparing himself for the onslaught of indifference that was sure to be sent his way unless he looked tough.
The door swung open right in his face and threw him into the corner as Hobbes entered first, then Calvin, Andy and Socrates. Their eyes fell on Nebular.
"Hey, Nebular!" Calvin said brightly. "Don't mind us. We were just out for a walk and had breakfast in the canteen."
Nebular hid a smirk. "Figured as much."
"Where's Galaxoid?" Hobbes asked.
The little grey alien in question stumbled out from between the door and the wall. "I told you to stay here!" he tried to snap, but he was a bit dazed. "When I say 'stay put', I mean 'stay put'!"
Socrates dropped to his knees. "Read me my rights, officer! I'll never stray off course again! I throw myself upon the mercy of the court!"
"Oh, get up, you twit," Calvin sighed.
Galaxoid massaged his eye. "For pity's sake…"
Andy patted him where his shoulder would've been. "Don't worry. We won't mess up anymore. We'll stay in the room."
"Good boy, Andrew," Galaxoid grumbled, throwing a nasty glare at the others.
"Teacher's pet," Calvin sneered.
"Way to betray the class, Andy," Socrates added.
Andy's temper flared again at the insults. "Oh, lay off!" he snapped.
Socrates just got in his face, smiling sweetly. "Temper, temper," he admonished.
"I said lay off!"
Hobbes got in the middle. "Okay, everyone. Let's not let cabin fever take over our already addled minds, yeah?"
Andy folded his arms bitterly and went for a sulk. The usually reasonable boy had been getting more and more frustrated lately, and it was beginning to concern his friends a bit.
Before they could say anything, the short alien who was an assistant to Tenzale popped his head in the door. "Excuse me," he announced, "but your presence is required downstairs. Tenzale would like a word."
"What sort of word?" Nebular asked.
"A frustrated one," the assistant replied as he turned and left back down the corridor.
"My favorite," Calvin said tiredly. "Shall we get to it?"
"With our usual diplomacy skills?" Hobbes asked.
"Correct. So Socrates? Shut up."
Socrates nodded and mimed zipping his lip. He followed Calvin and Hobbes out of the room.
Andy hung back for a bit, so Sherman climbed off the nearby table and clawed his way up the boy's clothes onto his shoulder. "What do you think? Up for a stroll? They need us levelheaded types to keep them in order."
Andy was still pouting with irritation. He didn't look ready to cave yet.
Sherman patted him on his neck. "Come on. You know they need you. Otherwise Calvin will just get in a shouting match with Tenzale."
The thought of being needed managed to melt the ice in Andy's heart at that moment, so he loosened up a little, and some of the tension in his neck dissolved. Sherman sighed with relief as they turned and followed after the others. He was growing concerned for his young friend. He seemed to be increasingly agitated lately, and he wasn't sure what would happen if it finally came to a head.
