The Elci Kahaf Coliseum, a 500-foot-high structure that could comfortably seat 240,000 people, was built around a technology called Spectrotechnics. Synthesized prisms had been installed in front of each seat, allowing audience members to choose between the dozen or so productions being carried out simultaneously on the football field-sized stage. While George and his sister Sal were watching colossal robots fight to the death on the west end of the field, Muffy had tuned her prism to receive the flower show, held a safe distance away on the east end.
"Check out that blue robot," George marveled breathlessly. "It's gotta be a hundred feet tall."
Jenny, the alien guide, leaned her artichoke-shaped head to his ear. "Cyber Throwdown entrants are limited by regulations to no more than eighty feet in height," she told the moose boy.
"Just look at that huge pink one, Mom," said Muffy, gesturing. "It's like a mutant radioactive chrysanthemum. I could live inside of it." The monkey girl wore her new optical fabric dress, which showed a real-time image of her face on the front.
George glanced aside at Muffy's prism, and the rows of man-sized blooms on display. "Giant flowers," he said arrogantly. "They may be big, but they're still boring."
"They're pretty," Muffy retorted. "They serve a useful function, unlike your stupid robots."
"Robots do too serve a useful function," said George. "They're cool."
"Yeah," Sal agreed. "And they can do all the dirty jobs so people don't have to. Like fighting." The girl's braids flipped about as she turned her head to see the giant blue robot rip a claw from a monstrous metal lobster.
After the shows had ended, the Nordgrens and Crosswires filed out through one of the many exits, accompanied by Jenny and a mob of dwarfish humanoids covered head-to-toe in red latex. One of the dwarves stared at George through its glass visor, until another slapped it with a black-gloved hand, as if to scold it for being impolite.
A series of monorail cars transported the audience members from the coliseum; in one car, Muffy, George, and their families were entirely surrounded by the red latex aliens. Muffy was elated to find that the upholstered monorail seats were more comfortable than the hard coliseum chairs. My butt thanks you, she thought.
"Hey, Jenny," said George to his alien friend, "why do they all wear those red suits? They look like Santa's elves."
"They're wearing environmental suits," replied Jenny, pointed teeth visible through her pale lips. "The atmosphere of Orelob is toxic to them."
"I'm glad it's not toxic to us," said Muffy, gazing out the window at the dimming blue sun. "Red latex is so gauche."
Mr. Crosswire seemed deep in thought as he watched the city's lighted towers fly past. "It is a happy coincidence that this planet's atmosphere is so similar to Earth's," he remarked.
"My planet has an atmosphere of pure methane," Jenny related. "We can't live on Orelob without cybernetic implants that convert the oxygen and nitrogen to a form we can use. Would you like to see my implants?"
"No, he wouldn't," Mrs. Crosswire chimed in.
"If you don't mind my asking," Mr. Nordgren asked the alien girl, "where did you learn to speak English?"
Jenny answered without hesitation. "We Kressidans are the linguists of the Alliance. Every Kressidan child has to learn the language of a fourth-galaxy planet to graduate from elementary school."
"Are you planning to visit Earth someday?" George asked her.
Jenny shook her head and smiled gently.
"Then what's the point of learning English?" George wondered.
"Yeah, what is the point?" added Sal. "I'll probably never go to England."
"I have another question," said Mr. Nordgren, his tone growing more serious. "Is there an Earth embassy in the city?"
Mr. Crosswire shot the moose man an annoyed look.
Jenny wrung her hands for a bit, then answered, "I don't know."
"Is there an Earth embassy anywhere on the planet?" Mr. Nordgren pressed her.
"Not that I know of," replied the alien girl.
He had many more questions, but Jenny was clearly no help. The situation is worse than I imagined, he thought.
Once in his hotel room at Scaly Arms, George quickly took off his loathed George Jetson shirt and put on a V-necked pajama top. Because the suite offered only two bedrooms, he had to share one with Sal, so he made sure to face away while his sister changed into her sleepwear. Then, as he was putting one foot on the mattress to climb into his bed, Mr. Nordgren stepped into the room and made a bold pronouncement.
"Sleep well, kids. We're getting out of here in the morning."
George felt both confusion and hope. "But the hearing's in two days," he pointed out. "Muffy and I need to testify."
"If the Crosswires know what's good for them, they'll leave too," his father went on. "This is no witness protection program. We've been abducted—I don't know for what purpose, and we're not sticking around to find out."
His wife, hearing his statement from the kitchen, stepped past the holographic chef and entered. "What is it now, honey?"
"You heard my conversation with Jenny on the train," said her husband with a hint of anger. "She doesn't know if Orelob has an Earth embassy. For all we know, there may not be one. And if there isn't one, then we have no protection, no rights—we're illegal aliens."
"You're starting to make sense," said his wife, a bit fearfully.
"Jenny should know about such things," Mr. Nordgren continued. "She's employed by the hotel to assist Earth people. She's the one who gave me the Earth legal guide."
"Oh, dear," said Mrs. Nordgren, mostly to herself. "We could be arrested, and the authorities wouldn't know what to do with us."
"Maybe Jenny's a phony," George suggested.
"Yes," said his father, nodding. "Maybe nothing is what it really seems."
"We could be locked up indefinitely," said his wife, apparently absorbed in her own worries.
"I don't think we can trust Jenny," said Mr. Nordgren as he paced the floor. "But where does that leave us? We don't know any other English speakers."
"I have an idea," said George, jumping down from the mattress. "On Earth they send illegal aliens back to their own countries, right?"
"Yes," said his father, intrigued. "Are you suggesting we get ourselves deported?"
George nodded. "It's easy. All we have to do is show the police that our IDs are fake."
Mr. Nordgren spent much of the Orelobian night mulling George's proposition, among others. We could do something illegal and get arrested, he thought many times. But we could easily get separated from the kids, and who knows where they'd end up?
The scent of pancakes awakened them the next morning, as Mrs. Nordgren had invited the alien chef to prepare an authentic Earth breakfast. To their dismay, the chef had somehow developed the notion that the list of ingredients for pancakes included jalapeño peppers.
The enticing smell led Muffy into their hotel room; the girl was wearing her old Earth dress, and hadn't yet fixed her hair. "Mmm, jalapeño pancakes!" she said wistfully. "Just like the ones we had in New Mexico."
George, who had lost interest in food, gave her a quick kiss. "I hope you're coming with us, Muffy," he said earnestly.
"Where are you going?" the monkey girl asked.
"To find the Earth embassy, if there is one."
The wheels in Muffy's head turned, and she frowned disappointedly. "You're trying to get back to Earth," she said in a pained tone of voice.
"It's what Dad wants," George told her. "He thinks something sinister's going on, and I agree with him."
"Well, of course something sinister's going on," said Muffy, waving her hands to make a point. "Heath Holcombe wasn't accidentally run over by a little old lady on her way to bingo."
Mr. Nordgren walked into the dining area, fastening the top button of the white shirt he had purchased at Alien Overlord & Taylor's. "Our rights have been violated, Muffy," he stated firmly. "We shouldn't be here, and we're not staying."
George grasped Muffy's hands tightly. "Please come with us," he begged.
All Muffy could feel was affection for the doe-eyed moose boy. Nonetheless, she had her own opinion.
"No, George," she said quietly and tenderly. "I'm staying."
George's jaw started to fall.
"Where you see a crisis, we see an opportunity," Muffy went on. "My parents and I are all agreed—we want to live in Elci Kahaf."
to be continued
With apologies to Matt Groening and Futurama for the "Alien Overlord & Taylor's" reference.