#The Best Trucker Driver In Th World

[analvelocity]

Rubbernecks

This is a submission I wrote for @thewebcomicsreview‘s “Write a Story You Worthless Piece of Shit”, a writing prompt meme with prompts silly enough that I wanted to try my hand at one of them. I realized I haven’t written any prose recently and I felt the itch, so thanks Daniel for giving me an excuse to go mad in front of a Word Doc for way too many hours.

This one, uh, got away from me, but I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope people have at least half as much fun reading it. The prompt I chose was as follows: A middle-aged southern redneck truck driver finds the legendary Kitsune-Neko Katana, the only weapon that can save the world from an invading alien race.

You can find all 4,600+ words of Rubbernecks below the cut.

ANALVELOCITY DOT TUMBLR PRESENTS: RUBBERNECKS

Bobby cracked open the window and felt the now-cooling Mohave air ripple through his cap. As the sun hid once more behind the end of the road, he took off his aviators and hooked them over the top button of his shirt. It was going to be one of the long ones, he could feel it. Just him and the white lines 20 feet ahead of him as he directed 40 tons of cargo through the dusty blackness. This was home to him, and if he was one of those strange monk fellers, he’d much rather be meditatin’ here than on a mountaintop. It was for this reason he chose to leave his radio off, letting the breeze whip his ears at 65 miles an hour as he breathed a sigh of contentment.

This was the life. No Garth Brooks or radio chatter to disturb his personal zen. Always the feelin’ of progress, feelin’ like no matter where you’re gon’ end up, you’ll be right where yer’ meant ta be. When all was said an’ done, there was nothin’ more peaceful than- BOOM. A ripple shook his steel cocoon as he felt an electric shock run from his toes to the last remnants of his hairline. Stunned for a moment, he glanced to his right as he saw blames bellowing out of a line of Joshua Trees running about half a mile of the highway. He could feel ol’ Bessie begin to wobble and shake, and Bobby knew that was a sure sign that he should pull up. As Bobby stepped out of the truck, he felt a blast of hot air lash at his face. He reached into one of the back pockets of his jeans and pulled out a crumpled box of cigarettes. He felt around his pockets. Nothing. He looked up at the door, then again at the bent cigarette in his mouth. With a sigh, he walked up to one of the nearby burning plants and lit it. As he took a couple of puffs and surveyed the landscape, he saw it. At the end of the trail of flame, a series of blinking lights. Now Bobby here was no Boy Scout, but he knew Morse Code when he saw it. “Prob’ly one of them there Wright Brothers types gettin’ ambitious.” He chuckled to himself as he began to walk toward the lights. Far as Bobby was concerned, the ground was good enough for him. His eyes began to readjust to the darkness as he approached the source of the fire. His eyes widened. That was no airplane. The flaming ball of chrome sticking out of the cracked earth before him looked like it had no doors or windows, but as he stepped around it he noticed a single hole burned through what he presumed was the side of it. He inspected the hole, and realized that whatever shot this thing, used some serious hardware. The kind of hardware Jimmy One-Eye would probably give his left nut just ter’ get a look at. Bobby had dealt with more busted radiators in his time than he could count, so he knew this thing was goin’ to be too hot to touch. Still, he left his gloves and kit in the truck, and he needed to get this cargo to LA before morning so he wasn’t interested in staying any longer than he needed to. Bobby’s task was simple - see if there were any survivors, and leave the rest to whatever guvamint acronym dealt with flaming sky eggs. No time to get this engine back runnin’, assumin’ this thing even had an engine.

Wrapping his baseball cap around his right hand, he tested the egg by poking it. Cold to the touch. Cautiously, he put the hat back on his head and placed his bare hand on the surface of the object. A series of beeps. Some more flashing lights. A ripple in the surface, and then beginning to shudder and groan. Bobby stepped back.

The shuddering began to grow and grow in intensity, shivering and rippling as it morphed into alien shapes. Bobby stepped back once more.

Then it stopped. Then it made a tiny, almost imperceptible dinging sound. Then it spat out a girl. At this point Bobby didn’t know how to react. But if he didn’t the egg sure didn’t either as it flung the girl several feet in the air, landing her face-first with a thud at his feet. Bobby leaned over and checked her pulse. He couldn’t feel anything. He rolled her on to her back. She looked Asian, that much he was sure, and covered in deep lacerations and burns from head to toe.

She seemed young, definitely too young to be out of high school. She wore a short blue skirt, the kind of short that would make the most progressive mother clutch her pearls. A white shirt that seemed way too small, exposing her belly button. An odd-looking boy scout necktie that seemed to glow in the dark. She looked like one of those girl hero types that he caught lil’ Jenny watchin’ back at home from time to time. And in her hand, the most absurd looking blade he’d ever seen in his life.

It was long thin blade, with what looked like nine fox tails working as a guard at the hilt. Several inscriptions of cats, were engraved on the blade, each one glowing a searingly bright pink.

“Well that there’s a bit fruity, ain’t it.” He reached down to check her pulse. Nothing. Bobby furrowed his brow. He took his hat back off and wiped the sweat off his forehead. With a sigh, he reached for the sword clasped in her hand and picked it up. What happened after was immediate. The girl’s clothes shifted into some kind of modest private school uniform. But more frighteningly, Bobby felt a surge of energy flow through the sword. Bobby’s world shook, and then everything went black.

********

“Wake up, Chosen-Senpai.”

Bobby shuddered awake to see a blurry figure standing over him. As his eyes adjusted to the bright lights around him, he sat up and felt the shallow pools of water rippling between his fingers. “I ain’t in the Mojave anymore.” As he looked around him, he could see the girl more vividly now. The same girl he pulled from the wreckage, but strangely uninjured.

“Very astute of you, Senpai.” Bobby eyed her with a mix of scorn and confusion. He looked at her, she looked at him. After what felt like half a minute of waiting for the other to say something, Bobby decided to break the ice. “Where ar-“ “The sword holds the past lives of all who have wielded it before. This is the realm where the Chosen meet, to share their combined knowledge and experience with the Hero who wields it.” Bobby’s eyebrow slowly raised. “Who ar-“ “My name is Sakura. Heiress to the GenkiNeko toy chain, forty-seventh wielder of the Neko-Kitsune sword, slayer of the Kawaiiju. I will be your spirit guide on your journey as you continue my work, as the previous owners of the sword have done before me.” Bobby stood up. “Now wait here missy, I ain’t about t-“ “You are the forty-eighth wielder of the Neko-Kitsune sword. It is your destiny.” “I’m a trucker. The only destiny I got is-” “Listen, old man, I like this even less than you do. But the Kawaiiju aren’t going to stop with me. Whether you like it or not, you will need to face them.” Bobby laughed. “Let’s see how these illegal immig’rints handle the 12-gauge I got in the back. I don’t need no’ gay knife fer’ tha-“ “Your shotgun will have no impact on the Kawaiiju, Senpai. Only the sword can pierce their flesh” “Well ain’t that convenient.” Bobby was stunned for a second. He actually finished a sentence with this crazy woman. “What-“ “You must take the sword and follow your path. The sword is just a blade in your hands now, but the Power of Friendship will ignite the Neko-Kitsune Sword’s true power.” “No.” “What?” “I’m not goin’ ter do it. I don’t even know what you want me ter do-“ “You have no choice. It is your destiny.” Bobby scoffed. “Lady, this here?” he gestured to the void surrounding them. “This is America. And it’s my gosh-durned right to do whatever I want. That’s the American wa-” Sakura rolled her shoulders backward and groaned into the sky. “Burgerland, of course. Why did I have to crash here?” Bobby chuckled, looked at the sword still clasped in his hand, then smiled. “Listen, Say-koo-ruh. What if I take this thing to the nearest truck-stop and give it to the first teenager that rolls by?” She paused, pinching her chin between her thumb and forefinger. “That, uh, might work? But there’s a pro-”

“Good, it’s settled then. Now I don’t want ter hear any more of this talk about Nee-Koes and Keet-Soons and Cow-Why-Juice, you hear me?” She shrugged, an almost resigned smirk on her face. “Fine. But when what happens happens, make sure you keep the blade nearby. The last think we need is humanity’s last hope in the hands of an alien invader.”

Bobby shrugged dismissively, and for a while the two stood there for a moment in awkward silence.

“So what the heck is a Sen-Pi-“

********

Bobby shuddered awake, sweating. He checked his watch. Damn, he’d been snoozing out here for 15 minutes. If his boss called in while he was out here, that was probably comin’ out of his paycheck.

“Strange dream.”

He looked around. The sword was still in his hand, but the body was gone. Bobby decided it was probably best not to question it, as he shrugged and made his way back to the truck. On the way, he considered throwing the sword away, but something prevented him.

“Could probably get gas money selling this to a scrapyard.” Bobby chuckled. In fact, now that he thought about it, that didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

By the time Bobby was settling back into the driver’s seat, he’d already decided on the place – a scrapper mentioned by Billy-Bob in the Trucker’s Network just off the beaten track. And better yet – still on the way to LA.

The past hour, he thought, must have been a hallucination. There were certainly enough engine fumes to rationalize that as such, but a Japanese schoolgirl? That one was certainly new. A pang hit him as he warmed up the engine – was this guilt? Bobby quickly brushed the feeling aside as he pressed his foot against that familiar accelerator.

********

thru-thrum.

A few hours had passed, and a strange feeling washed over Bobby as the white lines on the empty road began to blur together. Hair standing at the back of his neck. A chill of… anticipation? He pushed it aside as he reached to the passenger seat for another cig- hang on, was the sword glowing?

thru-thrum. One eye on the road, he looked across the car and sure enough, leaning against the glovebox was that girly blade. The inscriptions were now pulsing, but the blade itself was now glowing with a pink hue that was growing steadily brighter. This time, Bobby knew he wasn’t hallucinating. thru-thrum. thru-thrum. “The Kitsune-Neko senses her prey. The hunt begins.”

That familiar voice.

THRU-THRUM. THRU-THRUM.

“But who is the hunter, and who the hunted?”

“Oh fuck me! Now I’m hearin’ the dead!” THRU-THRUM. THRU-THRUM.

Bobby wiped the sweat off his brow. His head was pounding. His hands were shaking. And then, in the corner of his eye, he glanced something in his rear-view mirror. Something advancing. His eyes widened as terror ripped the breath from his throat.

THRU-THRUM. THRU-THRUM. THRU-THRUM.

Something giant was slithering along the road at an incredible speed, steadily, advancing on ol’ Bessie. Like a Beanie Baby fucked a Kraken. And it looked livid. Bobby didn’t think. He punched the gas and picked up the microphone on the CB Radio. Shaking, he clicked the button and spoke. “10-33, 10-33. This is Freebird, callin’ from the Interstate 40 en route to Shakytown.” He paused for a moment. “10-33 please respond.” Static. Second after uncomfortable second rolled by. And then, a familar;

“5 by 5, this is the Ludlow Watering Hole. What’s your situation? Over.” He breathed a sigh of relief. But that relief was fleeting as the spectre loomed over his rear-view. But now he knew Maeve was in town. This varmint was gon’ find out the meaning of Southern Hospitality. “I’m about 20 minutes east of your position. I got the hammer down and a bogey on my tail. I need all the drivers you have. And guns. As many as you got. Over.”

A moment.

“Copy that. I’ll contact the boys. You know, I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.” Another sigh of relief. “Oh, and Freebird? Welcome back. Over.” Bobby hung up the mic and glanced at his rear-view. Yep, definitely close now. Whatever he was going to do, he would have to do it fast. And hopefully Maeve wasn’t dragging her feet. THRU-THRUM. THRU-THRUM. THRU-THRUM.

The sound was very loud now, the sword to his right now shimmering with light, shivering like it was itchin’ for a fix of the good stuff. And that’s when he saw the sign - Fender Joe’s House of Scrap. A lightbulb moment – if he was gon’ take this thing on, with or without the Trucker Network, one of them was gon’ die in that metal graveyard. He twisted the steering wheel to the left, and felt Bessie tilt with him. But Bobby knew Bessie like she was his second wife. And with a flourish, the truck righted itself as he flew through the exit. The pursuer was not as elegant, slamming itself into the wall of a nearby overpass, splattering glowing technicolor blood. But the blood stopped in midair, and rushed back to its host as the tentacled monstrosity regained its composure and resumed its pursuit. As it did, the radio once more crackled into life. “10-8, 10-8. Freebird, we have some boys heading to your position. What is your situation with the bogey? Over.” Bobby had never been so overjoyed to hear anyone speak over that radio. He picked the mic back up. “10-4. I’m about to dig in at Fender Joe’s. Get here as quick as possible. 4-10? Over.” A moment.

“Negatory, you’re a Mud Duck. Please repeat, over.”

“I said, I’m at Fender J-“ The truck slammed through the gates of the scrapyard as he hit the brakes. Carefully adjusting the steering wheel, he shifted the handbrake and the truck whipped around, skidding through the clay for tens of feet before glancing the piles of old whitegoods littering the compound. No time to think. Bobby reached behind his seat and pulled out his 12-Gauge and a few boxes of ammo. “This is going to be Freebird’s last stand.” He thought as he stepped out of the truck and turned to face the entrance. His rearview told him that objects may be larger than they appear. That was a gosh-durned understatement. The Kawaiiju before him stood at least 20 feet tall, with a mass of tentacles ripping through the fence as it advanced on him. As the creature drew closer, he could faintly hear the sound of… was that meowing? “Okay, I know you’re new to this country so lemme teach you somethin’ about the Second Amendment!” he shouted at the creature, as he unloaded two shotgun shells directly into its My Little Pony-lookin’ face. It doubled back and made a high-pitched, ear-piercing shriek, and then rearranged its face back into its original shape. Bobby laughed. Clearly this thing didn’t get the memo, he thought to himself as he popped some new shells into his gun. He was preparing his next one-liner when an errant tentacle whipped him, sending the man careering into a pile of old toasters.

********

“Ergh… Just give me a sec” he said to the figure looming over him. It took a moment for his clearly concussed brain to register that a familiar Japanese girl was standing over him. He fumbled around helplessly on his bed of toasters for a moment until he looked across the compound, realizing that his shotgun was currently sinking into the creature’s bags of flesh.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed. Hearing him, the creature whipped around and began rushing toward him.

“Reach out your arm.”

“What?”

“Just do it. And say, ‘Neko Neko Nii!’” “WHAT?”

The creature was once again looming over him now.

“Just do it!”

Bobby blushed and gritted his teeth. “Argh! Neko Neko Nii!”

The Kawaiiju raised a clawed tentacle in the air, and slammed it down above him. SHWING!

Bobby opened his eyes. Somehow, he was still alive. With a pink sword in his hand, held above his head. The creature’s tentacle sliced clean off, wriggling limply on the toaster bed at his side. Sakura laughed. “I can’t believe you actually said that.” Bobby didn’t have time to think. Primal survival instinct kicked in as he shot up, grabbing the hilt of the blade with both hands as he slashed at tentacle after tentacle that whipped at him. And one by one, they all fell. The Kawaiiju roared mightily once more as it threw its full weight at Bobby, who ducked to the side and with one swift uppercut, slashed right through the creature’s torso. Neon blood spewed everywhere, coating Bobby as he wiped the goo from his eyes. The Kawaiiju was hurting now, that’s for sure. “Yeah! How’d you like that?” The creature stood still for a second, then the blood once more began to return to its body, peeling itself from the toasters, the sword, and Bobby himself. Sakura, still standing with her thumbs hooked into the pockets of her blazer, looked on at this with mild bemusement. The tentacles wriggled back into life as they crawled like worms back to their host, reattaching themselves to the sockets as Bobby looked on in horror. He clutched the sword and held it before him. “All right girl, you said this sword could kill these things. Why isn’t this working?” “I told you before, didn’t I?” “Tell me wha-“ he failed to ask as one tentacle, now balled into a fist, slammed him in the face, knocking him to the ground. He could only look on disorientedly as the blade skittered off and disappeared into a pile of refrigerators. He reached out. “Neko Neko Nii!” Nothing. “Neko Neko Nii!” he shouted. The Kawaiiju almost seemed to cackle as it readied itself for the killing blow. “Well Bobby, I guess you were going to die someday.” he said to himself as he relaxed his body and closed his eyes, allowing himself to embrace the void. Six tentacles raised into the air as the creature gurgled with something adjacent to laughter.

It was at that moment that a truck burst through the entrance of the scrapyard, careering through the mud to collide face-first with the creature. Once more it shrieked as it exploded into that glowing rainbow bodily fluid that Bobby was becoming uncomfortably accustomed to.

Dazed, Bobby looked to his side, and shouted out a hoo-rah as five trucks circled around the interior of the compound, before trying to get up once more. Several familiar faces emerged from the doors, each one more heavily-armed than the last. And last, stepping out of the truck that saved him, was a heavy-set woman holding an LMG like one would hold a briefcase. “Just in the nick of time, hey Freebird!” Bobby smiled, pumping his fist into the air as he righted himself. “Maeve! And not a moment too soon! Good to see you babe.” “Now Bobby, you wanna try saying that again?” she said, tapping the LMG with her other hand like a used car dealer would slap a car. “Point taken. Eyes up, everybody, because this ain’t over.” Maeve frowned. “You sure about that? This situation is lookin’ pretty handled over-“ It was at that moment that the truck flipped into the air, spinning into the other trucks as the Kawaiiju revealed itself once more, enraged. Maeve stepped back, shocked for a moment at what she was seeing, and readied her machine gun. “All right boys, let’s show this rubberneck what happens when you mess with the Trucker Network!” The team nodded in acknowledgement as they all began to unload their firearms into the tentacled horror. Pistols, assault rifles, SMGs, shotguns... oh shit, is that a rocket launcher? Maeve and Bobby both ducked out of the way as the first rocket connected with flesh. First an explosion of blood and fire, then the creature reforming just in time for another rocket to scatter alien meat once more. “It’s not working!” said Maeve. “Do what you gotta do – we’ll cover you!” Bobby’s eyes darted around the landscape, riddled with flashes and metal and enough colour to make Lisa Frank start bleeding out the eyes. “Thanks for comin’, Maeve. Glad to know you have my back after all these years.” “Naw, are you gettin’ sentimental, boy?” Maeve looked back and grinned toothily. “We’ll always have your back. We’re the Trucker Network! And more important, we’re friends.” An epiphany struck Bobby like a bolt of lightning.

“The Power of Friendship will ignite the Neko-Kitsune Sword’s true power.”

Without a second thought, Bobby held his arms before him as he lunged toward the beast. It was like time had slowed down, as he moved faster, superhumanly so, toward the creature, ducking and weaving between tentacles. As he approached the creature’s torso, his arms clasped together in a thrusting motion.

In a flash of bright pink light, the sword once again appeared in his hand, and drove straight through the heart just recently exposed by an errant stick of dynamite. The creature shrieked one more bloodcurdling shriek, and then collapsed inward on itself like a black hole. The Kawaiiju was dead, and this time it wasn’t coming back. Everyone looked on, dumbfounded. And then the cheering began. Bobby and Maeve moved into the circle of trucks, Maeve setting down her LMG as a few of the other truckies pulled out some beers from the trucks. Cracking open some cold ones, they all began to chatter among one another. Maeve approached Bobby once more. “Well Freebird, I can’t say this was the evening I was expecting to have, but I think we’re all going to remember it.” She eyed him up and down. “For more reasons than one.” Bobby looked at her quizzically, then glanced at the apparition of Sakura. She was doubled-over in laughter. “Okay what are you laughin’ about?” It was at that moment that he noticed that everyone was looking at him with a bemused look on their faces. Bobby looked down. “…oh.”

********

“…happy birthday dear Jenny, happy birthday to you!”

Bobby looked on at his daughter with pride, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Thank y’all for coming!” she said, buzzing with excitement as she blew out the 18 candles dotting her carrot cake. She looked over at Bobby, beaming. Bobby knew he wasn’t around all that much for her – he was wed to the road and it never let him stay in one place for long. A glance over at her mother’s piercing glare indicated that she concurred.

As the party began to wrap up and the family began to tidy the barn, Bobby approached his daughter.

“Hey Dad!”

“Hi, Jenny.” He furrowed his brow. Was this really the right time? Is this really the right choice? “Come with me, I want to give you your birthday present, but it’s out the front”

“Sure thing!” Jenny gleefully responded.

Bobby was getting cold feet. Her mother would certainly kill him when she found out. Probably for the best that he get out of the state as soon as possible.

He turned around to her as they stepped through the front gate. “So this isn’t just a gift from me, it’s a gift from the whole Trucker Network. So make sure to say thank you to Maeve next time she’s in town.”

“Will do!” Jenny was clearly overflowing with excitement, with her hands balled into fists.

Bobby opened the door of his truck, sighed for a moment, and then pulled out an intricately-wrapped box, short in height and depth but a few feet long. He looked up – Sakura’s ghost was sitting there, sporting an almost Cheshire-Cat grin.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this? You know how dangerous it is out there. You know you’ll be exposing her to a world she’ll never come back from.”

Bobby frowned determinedly. “Yes, but will she want to?”

He handed the box to Jenny. Like a ravenous beast, she ripped the box open with her teeth, the ribbons and paper falling in tatters on the dirt road beneath them. Bobby winced – he’d spent all night on that.

She looked inside the box. “Whoa! Thanks Dad!” A moment of silence. “…uh, what is it?”

“This,” said Bobby, smiling as he drew the long metal object from the box. “is a tyre iron. You’re going to need it for the other half of your present.”

He gestured over toward the other side of the street. Jenny gasped. There it was, a brand-new semi-trailer. Not one of the most heavy-duty bits of hardware around, but if his Jenny was going to learn to drive, she was going to drive the best.

“Is it- is it-“ she was practically vibrating.

“Yeah, kiddo.” he smiled. “She’s all yours. Keys are in the ignition.”

“Um, I don’t want to ruin your moment, but…”

He looked out toward the gate of the house. His ex was advancing on him and he didn’t need any supernatural sword powers to know that his time was up.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted.”

********

Jenny ran to the truck and sat in the front seat. She’d never felt so alive; her Dad may be gone a lot but there was always something so magical, so fantastical about the stories he’d tell her about his time on the road. Sitting in this truck, she felt closer to him than ever before. She sighed contentedly, then looked over at her dad. And then a pang of sadness, as she heard the truck rev up and pull out, disappearing into the street once more, her mother screaming and shouting at him the whole way down the block. Tears began to well up in her eyes. Just like that, he was gone again. *chhhk* Jenny looked up. The truck radio was coming to life. “This is Freebird to Sailormoon, Sailormoon please respond, over.” Jenny wiped the tears from her eyes as she hurriedly picked up the microphone. “10-4, 10-4, This is Sailormoon, hearing you loud and clear, over.” “Freebird to Sailormoon, I’m proud of you. Sorry I had to hightail. You know your mother. Over.” She giggled. “Sailormoon to Freebird, it’s okay. Bring me back something nice. Over.” A moment. “10-4 to that.” “Motherbear to Freebird and Sailormoon, this is adorable but you are hogging a vital channel. Cut the shit, over.”

Jenny dropped the mic, embarrassed.

“Sorry Maeve” said her dad. “I’m back on the road again, what have you got for me?”

“Some rubbernecks causing havoc in a town just south of your position. Follow the highway and you can’t miss it.”

“Freebird to Motherbear, roger that.”

Jenny grinned before picking up the mic again. “Give’ em hell, Dad.”

[themirthfulroadrunners]

New Mexico Just off the Turquoise Trail

The first two days of this trip were troublesome, nearly problematic… sorta. We got an early (early!) start, leaving home at 4:45. Traffic wasn’t bad, not even the trucks. Of the 8 construction zones that Google maps identified, which turned into 11-12, none of them slowed us down much. No merging problems, and never below about 60mph. So we arrived at our reserved hotel at about lunch time – much earlier than we usually stop driving. (Exaggeration maybe, and gaining an hour at the New Mexico border did affect our timing. Plus, we had reserved a hotel, due to so many travelers escaping lockdown). But we used the free afternoon to drive a scenic road that was actually more cool than scenic with the find of some awesome old churches. And the location of where Coronado stopped over for 4 days to build a bridge across the Pecos River. We tried to find Pecos Bill. Maybe next time.

The troublesome, nearly problematic parts were in the area of our energy. After the activities of the 2nd day, we were toast. Debbie was so weary as to be sick from it. The hotel bed was heavenly, tho, so good rest was had.

 The morning drive out of our stop (Santa Rosa) was horrific with the truckers. The rudest in the world apparently drive I-40 going west from Santa Rosa and we interacted with many of them. Speaking of Santa Rosa, the California city that was burned up in 2020, is where Wayne moved from in 1979 to return to the land of ancestry (on his dad’s side), Arkansas. Working in the Post Office in Santa Rosa, CA, he saw a ton of misdirected letters that should have gone to New Mexico. Conversely, a lot of Santa Rosa, CA mail that was supposed to go to another address in Santa Rosa, CA, took a side trip to Santa Rosa, NM first.

 Our next hotel in Albuquerque, the city of Debbie’s birth (thanks to the United States Air Force) was touted as a ‘full-service’ facility, which means no free breakfast. Don’t know about you, but for 150 million bucks, we want free waffles! (and yogurt) And we ain’t payin’ no $25 for a hotel breakfast where you can’t even order what you want (free waffles!) Also, now, mind you that this is during the Covid19 Delta-variant-surging-wave, one of the two elevators in a 6-floor hotel is closed. Once while we were on the only operative one, descending from the 5th floor, it stopped at the 3rd where 2 employees and a customer charged in to join us. NO! We scored a strike bowling them down as we clamored over them to get out. WHAT’S A’MATTER WITH PEOPLE? (Besides bein’ knocked out.)

 We got to our house sit and guess what? The promised hot tub doesn’t work, the homeowner had compromised the wiring while tryin’ to electrificate a tree that grows through the deck. After immediately kicking their two dogs (NO, we didn’t), the homeowners pledged that the promised hot tub would be repaired before our house sit was to start. Afraid for their pets’ lives, they did, it was, and a hot tub at 7000’ is sublime. All is well in New Mexico. And even better yet, the owners invited us back before we even unpacked. Now we feel bad for our earlier disappointment.

 Speaking of hot tubs, this trip afforded us the best in terms of stars, satellites, and shooting (falling?) stars. They were awesome.

 New Mexico, which should change its name to Carson State, or Navajo State, seems to have a distinct lack of historic, or cultural, heroes. Coronado, the famed Spanish explorer abused the native Indians (Pueblo, Navajo, Zuni, Apache, Comanche, Ute, Kiowa), and probably more, to the degree that they revolted in 1680. There was blood, followed by bad blood. Coronado was solely interested in exploiting both the people, and their wealth, had he ever found the lost cities of gold. Coronado aside, there were famous trappers and hunters, but none who benefitted the development of the state, or any people groups within. Kit Carson seems to be the singular stand out as far as heroic figures go. (There may be a bunch of indigenous folks, or folks of Spanish ancestry worthy of the acclaim, I don’t know.) Starved for notoriety of some sort (even bad press is better than no press), modern New Mexicans (Carsonians) point to Billy the Kid – almost to the degree of the George Washington slept here hype. While eastern states laud actual heroes: Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, John Paul Jones, Paul Revere, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, General Anthony Wayne (hah!), Ashley McBride (ha-ha!), and the like, New Mexicans extol a murdering punk, a villain. Oh well, even bad publicity …

Despite the obvious lack of historical heroes, New Mexico does not lack for historical enchantment. The sights are spectacular, especially the mountains and even the smaller rock formations. The people are friendly (excepting the murderous Billy). The food is great. Wayne prefers the red chili peppers while Debbie, the green. Wayne likes to actually see the mold in his food.

After a short two-mile hike with a thousand-foot elevation gain, it was time for Sparkly, our glittery black Ford Edge, to finally get his way, a trip up a bona fide Jeep/ATV road/trail. It used to be a road. In fact, we drove it with ease two years ago. A local told us that the monsoons they’ve had washed it away. Sparkly wanted to go fast, so Wayne let him have his head, doubling the recommended 2mph. Sparkly was sometimes difficult to restrain.

 The adventure was worth it, offering a Stephen King Misery experience. A mountain lion crossed the ‘road’ just ahead of us. Wayne stopped and got out of the car to check out where it had headed. (maybe not the most clever of options) Low and behold, (BTW, we loathe and despise cliches, but sometimes it’s better than a sharp stick in the eye) A hundred or so feet down the nearly 90 degree drop-off was a vehicle smashed into a tree. Though there were no obvious signs of a recent departure from the ‘road’, it could have fairly flown over the nearby brush. Or it could have gone over when there was snow cover. Or … anyway, going down to check whether there was a corpse in the vehicle while theoretically possible, didn’t seem very well-advised considering that there might very well be a mountain lion finishing up what might be left and much preferring the live meat presenting himself on a veritable platter – Wayne.

Surprisingly, there was cell service in this remote mountainous area. From a Sandia Mountain trail map handout, we got through to someone who transferred the call to the proper authority. While they appreciated our call, they’d been aware of the vehicle and that it had been there for some time. But how weird, that the mountain lion crossed exactly where we could see the crashed vehicle. What if it wasn’t the same crash that the authority thought they knew about? What if the driver was just then coming to, only to see a mountain lion eating his face? (Limiting Wayne’s Stephen King intake.)

 Another mile down the ‘road’ we saw a mountain lion kitten, though it was barely a kitten, nearly as large as its mother, and almost devoid of kitten colorations and markings. We watched it in awe for some time before thinking to take a photo. You just have to believe us (or not) that the blond blur in the below picture is the kitten.

 Another quarter mile brought us to our promised hike, a trail to what was described as a Cave Man Cave. Unless we’d unknowingly driven across the Atlantic, it is doubtful that cave men had ever seen New Mexico, let alone inhabited this cave. More than likely the occupants, for which sufficient evidence supported the probability, were ancient indigenous people, no doubt using the cave to hide from mountain lions at night. The cave was cool, but there are better in Arkansas.

 A serendipitous hike in the Sandia Mountains showed us a plethora of wildflowers; most were varieties this Arkansas couple do not normally see. But the star of the show was a large mule deer buck who calmly sauntered in the trail behind us when we stopped for a rest (hiking at high altitude is hard, y’all!).

A retracing of a trip up the Turquoise Trail from 2 years ago put us re-hiking a trail in Cerrillos State Park, just south of Santa Fe. Several old mineral mines dot this trail and their history is revealed in very good signage. Passing through Madrid (unlike the one in Spain, this one is pronounced MAA’-drid), we were stopped for several minutes on Hwy 14 due to a ‘special event’ which we could not see. When allowed to pass through the artsy, cutesy town, we saw evidence of a movie being filmed. After exploring Cerrillos, we returned to Madrid for ice cream and got to watch some of the preparations for more filming. We did not get to see the part where the clipboard snaps and someone yells, “ACTION!” but it was enough. This same town was used for some of the scenes in the motorcycle film Wild Hogs and one building still boasts the ‘Diner’ sign that was added only for the film. Sign on the door says they do not serve food there. One can understand the confusion for tourists. We found out the movie being filmed during our trip is titled Robots and is a futuristic comedy starring Shailene Woodley and written by one of the writers on Borat. Cool beans. We ran into the film company yet again a day or two later, this time in a couple of sites in the Sandia Mountains. Whether the finished movie turns out to be good or meh, we’ll be watching it to catch glimpses of the gorgeous New Mexico countryside. New Mexico and Colorado have several movie ranches sprinkled in the very scenic areas.

 15 months, or so, ago we were house-sitting in Durango when paper Closed for Covid signs went up on doors in business-after-business. Here’s one for the whole town.

 While touristing Old Town Albuquerque we suddened upon a shop managed by a very personable guy who gave us a cup of Arabica/piñon coffee. When we house-sat in Sante Fe last year we talked to a State Park Ranger dude who told us all bout people picking piñon nuts. Having marvelously (Debbie word) passed the aroma tests, we bought a box of K-cups of this unique, pinon flavored brew. The personable guy turned out to be the artist, David Behrens (DavidBehrensGallery.com and Facebook.com/DavidBehrensGallery).

 This trip ranks among the best, or at the top of the list: obedient and FUN pets, very clean and comfortable home, fantastic hiking and scenery (despite the photo-compromising smoke), and very gracious hosts who offered us their entire refrigerator! Regarding the smoke, we shouldn’t be too self-centered considering it may be what’s left of someone’s home passing overhead.

Here are more pix from the trip. Enjoy!

[eldmandateus-blog]

The Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration or FMCSA has made it necessary for fleet operators and truck drivers to comply with the ELD mandate. This rule was to be complied with by all fleet managers and truckers by December 18th 2017. Trucks without an ELD that are commercial fleets are going to be declared out of service from April 1st 2018. The only exceptions, however, are the Automatic Onboard Recording Device or AOBRD. These devices are to be allowed till December 16th 2019.

There are many benefits of eld mandate. Users are authorized on the FMCSA websiteusing the FMCSA login in order to understand and consent to the terms of the policy. This mandate is convenient for both the fleet managers and  individual truckers. The mandatekeeps both the fleet managers and the driver of commercial vehicle updated. The fleet operator can keep track of the status, location and utilization of the vehicle while the driver can easily record his/her hours of service. Not all fleet operators and truckers have complied with it yet. This non-compliance has led to the cropping up of manifold inconveniences and dissimilarities in the trucking industry.

An Electronic Logging Device or ELD is also utilized to improve the general service provided by a vehicle by reducing downtimes and enhancing its usage. Electronic logging devices have converge with a vehicle’s engine to track motion and power status, driven miles hours.

The best ELD devices are equipped with all the features that are necessary to comply with the ELD mandate. These include:

The capability of the ELD to flawlessly track and record the hours of service of the truckers without fail.

The best ELD devices are also capable of warning the truckers ahead of time, if any unexpected calamity is approaching, so that the owners get the chance to take all the preventive measures prior to its actually taking place.

ELDs assist to avert any unintentional or deliberate HOS or hours of service breaches, as well as any penalty to the driver due to lapse in documented logs.

The best ELD devices are always accessible at affordable prices.

High quality log books can efficiently perform auditing or GPS tracking assistance.

Provide information in a regulated layout that can be addressed to law enforcement in particular formats i.e., in USB, wireless web solutions or Bluetooth.

Display a vivid documentation of the duty position graphically, making it convenient for the driver to see the hours worked in the day.

Present information in a uniform way which can also be turned into the law for compliance purposes in several approved ways.

Allows the driver of a commercial motor vehicle to sign in and select off-duty, not driving and on-duty or on-duty modes effortlessly.

A good quality ELD device should integrally synchronize with the engine of a running vehicle and switch to driving mode as soon as the truck or commercial vehicle moves up to a set speed threshold of five miles per hour, it should also capture the motion status and fuel use.

Choosing an ELD compliance partner that is not registered with the FMCSA through fmcsa login would defeat the purpose of complying with the eld mandate. A wise selection goes a long way to keep your business abreast with the up gradation and changes in the modern world of technology.

[reconcilethewords-blog]

Application Day Chapter One: Take a Deep Breath and Count to Three

Written by - Reconcilethewords and Paperhelmet The big-headed man entered the craft from behind Sam and Bailey with a synthetic hiss, the beam of blue-white light collapsing behind him. He rubbed his pupil-less eyes - which blinked horizontally - and straightened his back with a crack. "You kids alright? Running into a Beam Elevator is a good way to make yourself sick, y'know.” He rubbed his pupil-less eyes - which blinked horizontally - and straightened his back with a crack. “I'd say save that kind of thing for emergencies. Economy instant transports usually can't handle solving two directions at once. Been known to port the contents've your stomach in half a second late." Sam leaned against the nearest wall he could find, bracing himself on his forearm and covering his mouth with his hand. A couple of dry heaves later he spoke hoarsely. "I don't understand... Anything you just said..." The Fountain Dew in his stomach sloshed around sickeningly. His gum was gone; likely swallowed on the way up.  He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Bailey was with him and sighed in relief when he found her. Bailey, eyes watering from the florescent lights, frantically went for her bag. In the light of the ship Sam could make out her heart shaped face and almond-colored eyes. There was a subtle upturn of her nose with a high widows peak that was hidden amidst head of tight brown curls that fell at her shoulders. Her lips, dry and cracked, were full and in a perpetual pout even when she was smiling. She was thick legged with full hips, her face holding a bit of baby fat in her flushed cheek. She was a full head shorter than Sam and only inches taller than the alien standing just beside her. Gold and silver bangles hung from hers wrists by tens and her nails were painted a striking orange with flaking varnish that hadn't been reapplied in months. Her fingers were covered in bandages in a rainbow of gaudy colors - some peeling back to reveal small cat-like scratches that had yet to start healing. Her feather ornament, seemingly to be from a very large avian, sparkled with gold filament in the lights. It looked to have been dipped in gold metal, the edges razor sharp to touch. Her messenger bag, showing it's age in a frayed strap and creases, was peppered with novelty pins and flags of several different countries. The largest being a Aboriginal-inspired orca jumping a cresting wave of blue and green - the words 'Go Canucks!' splayed over the middle. Her face was a sickeningly green pallor, clearly suffering the same stomach pain as Sam. The world was lost on her for a moment as she fussed over whatever was inside. He could see her in living color now, as well as the big-headed man a few steps behind her. He was your typical grey alien; big, ovular head, black eyes and no nose to speak of. His grey skin was smooth and hairless, except for the area around his mouth, dusted with stubble. The safety-yellow jacket and slacks he was wearing in addition to the matching trucker hat conjured the image of a intergalactic bus-driver. Sam raised his brow and sharply inhaled through his teeth. "You uh... You're an alien... With a hat," he offered flatly. The grey snorted. "And you're a human; with working eyeballs."  "Please be okay, please be okay." She mumbled worriedly under her breath. A woozy whine resounded from the bag in a nauseated trill. Sam turned his head to the side, then looked back at Bailey. "Did... Was that you?," he questioned, somewhat worried. "Did your bag just make bird noises?" "No!" She began out of habit, only to cut herself short with a nervous smile, "Yeah... yeah it did." Bailey relented awkwardly. The grey laughed and pushed past. "Kid, if you've got an animal you can let it run around. Well... Long as it ain't anything dangerous." He pulled up his slacks and moseyed on through a nearby door that Sam assumed lead to the rest of the ship. She watched the grey leave through the sliding door and whistled comfortingly to her messenger bag, rubbing soothing circles in the side. Upon realizing that Bailey wasn't going to take the man's (she wondered if they had the same pronouns) advice her bag gave an irate trill and smacked violently against her thigh in a child-like fit. "Yeah, real mature you big baby. You can deal." She scowled at it impishly, but not bothering to stop the thrashing. Her hand white-knuckled the strap, the frayed edges lining up with the bandages on her fingers. "Sorry," She told Sam, "S'been a long trip, I think he's restless - or being cooped up for so long. I've been promising to feed him since Jasper..." Sam made a map in his head and drew and imaginary line from British Columbia - The home of the 'Go Canucks!' logo on Bailey's bag - to Medicine Hat, Alberta and cringed. "You went a full province without feeding the thing? That's no good. We gotta get something in it before... I dunno, what is it even?" She shrugged helplessly, "Best we probably do before he forces his way out." Bailey muttered, cringing in memory of what he had done to her neighbors mobile home back in the trailer park where she had grown up. "He's kinda like a bird --" Bailey, standing just shy of Sam, was cut short as her bag trilled excitedly. A long tongue slipped from the corner of the flap and licked at his pant leg - stealing a spider that had made a home there. The material where the tongue had made contact began to sizzle. The tongue slithered back with a quick snap, an elated muffled chirping coming from within "... Like a bird, you said?" Sam stared at the patch of seared denim, pulling it away from his leg to get a better look. He tried to think of all the different kinds of birds he knew with acidic tongues, but unfortunately none sprang to mind. "Look, maybe we should follow the alien, God I never thought I'd say that and mean it, and mean that. Maybe... Idunno, maybe there's non-pants related food for it inside, all I've got it in my bag is candy." He turned around and made for the set of steel doors the grey had left through. ‘Okay... Find your happy place... Deep breath. Just find somewhere to sit down and collect your thoughts, its no big deal you've been abducted by aliens, happens to tons of people.’ He shook his hands loose and moved one toward the doors. ‘If crappy B-Movies on the Space network have taught me anything...’ An electronic beep ‘arped gently from an unseen speaker and the doors flew apart.  His smile was triumphant. ‘Yeah, thought so.’  “I’m sorr…” Bailey began, only to be interrupted subsequently abandoned by Sam in the small hallway as he marched towards the sliding doors. A nervous trilled questioned from her bag, feeding off Bailey’s own anxiety. She mumbled under her breath, giving her bag a soft but firm pat. She was quick to fall in step behind Sam. She was wholly unprepared for what greeted her. “W-Whoa.” The doors retracted in a snap, spurred by the sensor bars visible in the doorframe. It beeped twice as Sam and Bailey stepped through, both flabbergasted and confused by the sight. Beyond them it opened into a gigantic circular space with a vaulted ceiling that stood at least fifty feet above their heads. The room was ringed by massive digital flat screens that could have been easily mistaken for windows in the chrome bulkhead. It gave a panoramic view of the outside of the ship that was resting on the top of the knoll they had only just sprinted across, still lit up by the diffused blue glow of the ship’s spot-lights.

The interior itself was an anachronistic amalgamation of alien technology and 1950’s décor. One half of the ship was dedicated to a styled lounge and a open air kitchen. Diner-inspired seats made of pastel blue upholstery ringed the plasma viewings screens with tin-table tops between them. People, of varying races and species, seated themselves sparsely in the rows. Giddy giggles and bouts of excited chatter broke over them in a quiet din as the smell of greasy food and burnt bacon wafted from kitchen. It looked as if a piece of 1950’s Americana had been ripped off the side of a highway and jammed into the corner of a Roswell spacecraft. A checker-tiled quartz counter top separated the lone cook from the passengers as she flitted between the grill top and the coffee maker. She was dressed down in a loose fitted t-shirt with tattoos from wrist to elbow chewing nosily on a piece of bubble gum. Bar stools ringed her counter and a few of the passengers had taken refuge there clutching chalk-white cups of coffee. Bailey, barely able to tear her eyes away, flicked them over to the second half of the ship where the marriage of the two impossibilities happened. It was free of seats and wide-screens, instead piled with World War II telemetry and radars. The scripts scrolled in indecipherable runic letters that reminded her of the movie ‘Independence Day.’ Sam could only stare, taking in the odd menagerie of races and eras that forced themselves into his eyes. Silently, unblinking and without looking, he retrieved a dark-chocolate almond bar from his backpack. "Baiwey... Are you feeing vis," he said, not so much a question as begging confirmation that he hadn’t gone crazy. "Mhm," Bailey whined high pitched behind lips drawn into a thin line.  He scanned the area for other humans or anything vaguely modern and familiar, but every creature his eyes could find save for Bailey was only human at first glance. Some had horns, antennae, tails, wings... One had the lower body of a goat, to which Sam could only muster an exasperated blow. The grey dressed in yellow reappeared overhead, sitting comfortably in a levitating chair and fiddling with some kind of futuristic tablet. He came to a slow stop in the middle of the transparent dome that occupied the center of the ceiling, several holographic screens flickering to life around him. Fixing his hat, the grey pulled a small microphone from the arm of his chair and a touch of feedback echoed throughout the craft. "Attention passengers, attention passengers, this is Captain Larrz of the S.S. Sunspot. In about five minutes we will be prepared for take-off. If there are any calls you have to make before we leave satellite range, please make those calls now. Estima-... Haha, whoops, hit the coffee maker. Estimated time 'till we reach the school, about twelve hours. Feel free to have a nap, we'll wake you up when we get there. Oh, kitchen's open too, please inform our lovely Chef Ganymede of any allergies before ordering. Enjoy the flight." Sam swallowed. "... This is actually happening... I guess... We should find somewhere to sit." With the Captain announcement, Bailey grimaced. On top of the eighteen hours she had already traveled, her cramped thighs ached at the idea of tacking on another twelve. 'Wait, doesn't it take three days to get to --'  "Ha-buh-wha?" She babbled to Sam, her voice cracking with prepubescence. "R-right!" she squeaked, her cheeks red from embarrassment.  "Food." She daftly stated, pivoting on her heel toward the counter. Sam climbed into one of the stools lining the porcelain counter. It was stained with age, but otherwise clean, save for the odd crumb or two. He eyed a few of the less obvious contraptions in the kitchen, unsure of what more a kitchen needed than a stove, a fridge and a few cupboards. One gadget had a big rectangular window set in it, taller than it was wide, with a narrow slot just thick enough to maybe slide a CD into. Another resembled a water cooler, but with a thin mechanical arm in place of a spigot. He shook his head. It was going to take a long time to get over any of this.  "Hey uh... Why don't you go first," Sam offered to Bailey, admittedly somewhat scared of starting a conversation with anyone that wasn't for sure a human being. This "Ganymede" seemed to fit the bill but something felt... off about her. "You need it more than I do, after all, heh." With a faint nod of agreement, Bailey sat down beside Sam and rested her satchel on her thighs. It moved and twitched, chirping anxiously; invigorated by the smell of bacon grease. "Um," She glanced warily at the menu, finding her cheeks warming yet again with embarrassment. "I've never actually done this before... I've always just gone out and bought packages of raw meat from a butcher or grocery store..." She told Sam under her breath, gesturing towards the cook with both hands discreetly, "How do you ask 'Hey, can I have whole raw chicken if you got one?'" She asked Sam helplessly Sam laughed, amused. "A whole chicken? Like from a mini-mall or something? What kind of dog are you keeping in there?" He scratched the back of his hand, still nervous. "Why don't you literally just say that? We're on a... Hoo... We're, we're on a U.F.O., I'm pretty sure 'I'd like a whole chicken, please,'" he exaggerated the phrase with some silly gestures, "isn't too much of a thing to ask for." He looked back at the kitchen. "Speaking of, I guess we know what they do with all that abducted livestock now...”  Bailey snorted with a quiet giggle. "I didn't say it was a dog," She reminded with a playful hint. It was still surreal to be open about her most guarded and closely kept secret. Bailey pulled out her cellphone and laid it on the counter, it was a clunky and old, the first version of a touch screen. She tapped the screen, opening up the menu, and selected a note pad application. In it had several lines, once of which was labeled  'School.' She opened the application and typed. 'Mode of transportation; spaceship. ‘Three day journey condensed into twelve hours.'  Bailey sighed as she set it down, shook her head, and waved down the cook. She glanced at Sam, pushed down her cowardice, and let the words tumble out of her mouth. "Hey, um - It is possible to get chicken? Like... a whole one? Raw?" She cringed, "Er... If not, s-s'not a bother... Sorry." Chef Ganymede looked over, a baby-blue bubble hovering just in front of her lips. It popped audibly, and she sucked it back into her mouth. "Sure thing, sugar," she responded tiredly, placing her phone in her cleavage and turning towards the kitchen. "... Huh. It really was that easy," Sam let slip. "Er, uh, I mean, see? It's that easy." He coughed. His eyes followed Ganymede, expecting her to make a beeline for the refrigerator, his face falling slightly when she went the opposite direction. She opened the front of a tall, metal cylinder that was separated vertically into tiers, filled to the top with colored discs. She took a single pinkish-beige disc from the middle and closed the door, heading over to the windowed gizmo Sam had noticed earlier. With precision that spoke volumes about her familiarity with her job, she slid the disc into the odd slot in the bottom of the machine and activated it with a few prods of a keypad.

Sam attempted to shake himself awake when he saw the pink wireframe of a plucked and headless chicken appear in the rectangular window. He had to add a double-take and a quick session of rubbing his eyes when he saw the real deal reconstitute itself from whatever was in that disc. In just under a minute Ganymede had whisked the poultry onto a red and white dinner plate and served it to Bailey, cold, dead, and surprisingly fresh, as if it had just been washed and prepared. "And for yourself, darlin'?," she asked Sam nonchalantly. Sam's mouth hung open as if to catch flies. "... I uh... Need a moment." "That's amazing! Just like outta a sci-fi comic-" Bailey gushed loudly, only shrink in on herself as the plate was slid in front of her. Several heads turned, some chuckled, and another muttered disdainfully. "Mundanes." Bailey mumbled her thanks, hiding behind a fringe of her curls, and opened the flap of her bag to tip the chicken in. An excited trilled erupted from the leather - the bag throwing itself around on her lap with the sounds of noisy snap of jaws and a whine for more seconds later. "That is all you get for now. More later, promise..." She looked bashfully up at the cook. "H-How much do I owe you?" Ganymede raised her palm and shook her head. "First one's on the house, sweetie. Most students get on this ol' starbucket with not a Copper to their name. It'd be unfair to charge." She shot a steely glare at the man who had spoken up in a fit of prejudice, leaving him suitably cowed. "And don't mind the peanut gallery. Non-students should count themselves lucky we let them on at all. This ship belongs to the School, darnit." She turned her attention back to Sam, who was fidgeting something fierce, eyes fixed on the point in space whereupon the chicken ceased to be. "I uh... I guess I'll have uh..." Sam thought for a moment. "... What's a mundane?" Ganymede laughed, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "Humans, sugar. Non-magic humans that can't see past the Barrier. Something you two ain't anymore." Sam rested his chin on his palm. "Well that just raised more questions..." Bailey shifted on her seat, leaning over her bag to open up a new notepad on her phone. "I read about it," she offered to Sam. "From what little I could find, it's like walking around with a blindfold on? Sorta?" Her dark eyes fled to Ganymede, wondering if the metaphor was the correct one. The tallish woman straightened her dark hair and examined herself in the reflection of the cash register before her. "Something like that. The long and the short of it is that anything outside of what regular earth folks consider 'normal' is essentially invisible to their senses. It's called the Barrier by most. Sort of a thing the brain flicks on to hide the Magical World from humans, lest they go nuts from the revelation, or get into trouble." Ganymede leaned on the counter. "The two sides separated by the Barrier can't do nothin' to each other. Can't see each other, can't hear. Can't even touch. They just pass right through like they don't even exist." She looked between the two clueless students-to-be, taking something of a sadistic pleasure in watching them try to figure everything out from her words alone. "'Course, the Barrier can be weakened by being around a lot of magical stuff, or having magical blood down your family tree. And if a Mundane's Barrier's weak and they stumble on into something their brain can't think of a lie for..." She snapped her fingers and watched the startled duo jump. "The Barrier breaks! Then that lucky little Mundane is on their way to becoming a part of the Magical Community... Like you two." She smiled warmly."Though, you may not be all the way yet... Comes in stages, y'know. First you start seeing and hearing things you swear aren't there... Then you're actually able to interact with some of the more 'human-like' Magical Folk. Next thing you know, you're seeing everything the way it should be." Ganymede's expression turned wistful as she reminisced in silence of the time her own Barrier shattered. "Wow..." Bailey said through her teeth, but her eyes fell to her satchel. She tried to process the fact that she had, inadvertently, joined another sect of people. Magical people. Magical Society. "Like... muggles vs wizards type thing?" Bailey couldn't stop herself from blurting out, the only comparison her overwhelmed mind could supply. "I-I mean..." She gave up, then, and buried her face in her hands.  Ganymede raised an eyebrow. "... Muggles? What're those?" "Its a thing in a book..." Sam explained absent-minded, leaving Ganymede puzzled. "So like... If I'm getting this right, there's just been this... World, that we couldn't see going on around us since were born, and we're only starting to see it now? Because something," fingers raised in quotation, "'Magical', happened to us?" "That's the simple way to put it, yeah," Ganymede nodded. "So our whole lives, there could have been... Things we couldn't see spying on us? Like, a ghost or something could've been break-dancing beside me while I slept for all seventeen years of my life and I would have never known?" His tone steadily grew more and more serious while a translucent girl several stools down giggled to herself. "Well, with some of the more human-ish folk, your brain would've dressed them up as humans so as to lighten the load, so to speak. So a fella that was, say, an Elf wouldn't be able to pull a stunt like that. But something as complex as a ghost could get away with a break dance or two, I'd reckon." She winked cheekily. Sam hugged his stomach, suddenly wishing he'd never asked. "... I feel ill..." Bailey reached her hand up as if to pat Sam consolingly on the shoulder, but thought better of it. "It's okay man," She offered instead, "Maybe a glass of water?" Bailey asked Ganymede pleadingly gentle.  She worried her lips between her teeth, troubled with thought.There was so much she didn't know and so much to take in -- and Bailey hadn't been normal - Mundane - for a long time. Not since she was eight years old. She thought, then, on the website pages that came up '404 error' and found herself saying. "I don't think I'm fully out of it yet... I still can't see some things. What about you, Sam? What made you start seeing things?" "Well, uh..." he began. "It was a couple months ago, when I was still living with... Living at my old place. Crummy neighborhood, so, of course all the crummy kids that lived there went to the same crummy school I did. I was eating a chocolate bar... Foreign stuff, got it off the internet, and some jerk, Jason Carmichael shoved me outta my seat. We were in the courtyard, so it got covered in dirt and gravel and... stuff. I'd told him to back off the day before. He was always picking on me..." Sam knocked back a mouthful of water after Ganymede placed it in his hand. "... So, knowing what he does to kids who tick him off, I... reacted. I hucked a bunch of rocks in his face." Sam made a throwing gesture. "I'd thrown the chocolate too, I didn't even realize I picked it up, and then... It exploded. Right in Jason's fat, ugly mug." He nodded, staring into space, almost like an old, grizzled war veteran recalling his days in Vietnam. "It had to be the chocolate too... I remember bits of burning chocolate stuck to my fingers. After that, I got expelled for 'endangering a fellow student' by 'bringing fireworks to school'... Got in a fight with my f-... My parents. Started seeing weird things out of the corner of my eye and finding TV channels I never knew existed. And uh, yeah. I guess that's where mine got... Broken."After a short silence he stretched loudly to ease the tension. "Uh, w-whaaat about you?," he said to Bailey, reminiscent of a talk-show host. "How'd your one, yours... Your Barrier break?”  Bailey listened intently. "Yeah, kids are real assholes sometimes." Bailey told him sympathetically."Mine? Nothing like that. Mine was a lot slower. Sorta realized the pet I had wasn't... exactly normal." She chuckled nervously and placed both hands on her messenger bag. "When he started growing feathers, I sorta realized I was in trouble. But if I really think about it - I think I know when I... advanced a stage?" She looked to Ganymede for confirmation and the cook nodded, gesturing for her to continue.  "My neighbor in the trailer park, uh, where I live." Bailey sighed, thinking back on the day, and squeezed her satchel with white knuckles. "He always like one of those hoarders - you know? Like on AnE channel? Nasty old guy, always chased us kids away from his trailer. Everyone hated him. Anyway, this guy got away from me and he was too big at that point for me to stop. I found him in my neighbors mobile home - had to break in to get it." Bailey grimaced. "My neighbor had like... faeries? I think, locked up in bottles all over the place. I didn't know what to do so I picked Abel and booked it out of there. After that, I started seeing more and more stuff." "Starting t-... Okay, I gotta level with you Bailey. What the hell is in the bag?" He took a moment to mentally ask himself what he thought he was doing. If she had it locked up in a bag, it was probably for good reason. Ganymede agreed. "Yeah, what is rustling around in that sack of yours? I've just been watching it twitch, plum curious as to what kinda animal you've got in there. If it even is an animal..." She smiled at Bailey, knowing all too well that whatever was in that bag could be intelligent. "Also, make sure you peg your pig-shit neighbor for Faerie Trafficking, that's all kinds of illegal." A light rumble pulsed through the floor as the S.S. Sunspot's engines came to life. Captain Larz's voice filled the air. "Please stay seated, ladies and gentlemen, we'll be taking off in just a minute or two." "Well, uh, a few years ago... Abel," she gestured to her bag, "kinda fell on his trailer and bisected the thing. I think a lot of them got away. I threw a empty propane tank in there and the cops blamed it on faulty stove." She grinned triumphantly to Ganymede, glad she had done the right thing, even if by accident. She instinctively rested her hand over the flap of her messenger bag. Her pet, Abel, trilled curiously. As if excited by the prospect of being freed from confines of the satchel. "...Uh, um... Spoilers?" She laughed, eyebrows pinching contritely. Bailey was uncomfortable with exposing Abel. She had spent ten years keeping him a close guarded secret. It was hard to wipe away a decade of secrecy, even if she was slowly leaving the planets orbit bound for, hopefully, greater things. Bailey raised her band-aid covered hand up to the feather tied in her hair. It was nearly a foot long, edges tipped with gold, and played with it between her fingers. It was a gradient of exotic orange and green, flecks of red threaded through the keratin. "This is one of his feathers." Sam looked between the feather and Bailey, unimpressed, while Ganymede looked on with an intrigued expression, wholeheartedly impressed. "Psh," Sam blew. "'Spoilers'... It can't stay in there forever, Bailey. Gotta go to the bathroom at some point..." He turned to Ganymede. "Speaking of which-" He was cut off by the sudden roar of the craft's propulsion system. A low hum began to reverberate through the Sunspot's cavernous interior as the fire-less engines glowed white with power. The saucer displaced a roiling cloud of dust as its wire-thin landing gear retracted into the hull and the ring of lights dotting its edge began to slowly rotate around the perimeter. Sam tore himself away from the conversation to observe the simulated windows, on the other side of which the horizon began to sink. He gulped, fighting and just barely beating the urge to run and look over the edge. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, stifled only by a lingering fear that was slowly ebbing away. "... I guess this is it." "It is," Bailey whispered, eyes resting on the sun as it just peaked over the horizon. The expanse of pine forests and cities below slowly becoming nothing more than specks of inconsequential grid lights. She searched the horizon for a sight of home, fighting the cognitive hallmarks of severe homesickness. She thought of the beach her Mom took her to on lazy summer days or the nature hikes through valleys in the middle of forested suburbs. 'If I don't get in,' Bailey told herself, tearing her eyes away, and clutched at the glass in her hand. 'It'll be a Hell of a story... that I can't tell anyone.' Bailey inhaled sharply through her nose and threw Sam an uneasy grin. "You only need to be brave once, right?" She echoed her mantra. Words a wiry-thin old man had told a little girl with a fat-lip and a black eye. “Good mindset," said Ganymede, keeping an eye on Sam, afraid he might start to hyperventilate. "Hon, have you decided on something to eat? Food'll be good for your nerves." Sam shook his head free of his thoughts and turned back towards the worried chef. "S-sorry. Just... Do you have burgers? Something with meat and... bread, I guess... I don't know, I'm drawing a blank." Ganymede chuckled. "Bacon cheeseburger and fries it is. What about you... Bailey, right? Getting anything for yourself tonight?" She glanced at the simulated windows. "Or, today, I should say." "Just the same," Bailey's mouth salivated at the idea of food, she hadn't eaten since they left Vancouver. Her focus had been on Abel and his care. "Since it's technically my second meal." Bailey opened the flap of her back, digging her arm into the satchel without worry. She winced as she scraped against Abel's muzzle, catching on his hide, and he chirped rubbing against her hand affectionately. He was intelligent enough to understand that they were leaving. When they had cleared the Rocky Mountains, he had been frantic without of the scent of the sea and reacted to Bailey's own growing trepidation. 'Later, bud, I promise.' She silently promised, tapping her fingers against his nose. He huffed, but she found the purse. She pulled the blue, telephone box printed clip purse from her bag. "I'm not exactly sure what the currency exchange is... I just have this on me... I hope it's enough." She opened it and pulled out six platinum coins and several smaller silver ones and few gold. They were printed with a ten planet solar system with the sun at the center. "Ooh, someone got sent away with change to spare." Ganymede's eyes sparkled in the light that reflected off of the bashful girl's money. "All that's gonna take you far. What you've got there is close to seven-hundred US Dollars. Just five of the silver ones is fine, sugar." Sam recoiled in shock. "Wh-... Are you loaded or something!?," he asked incredulously, as if he'd just been betrayed. Bailey stared wide-eyed at the Ganymede's estimation. She had her phone in her hand neigh instantly, thumbing the exchange. "I-I'm not loaded! I live in a trailer park!" She reminded feverishly, putting her phone back on the table - aghast. "Either way, two bacon burger combos coming right up." Ganymede retreated back to the kitchen and pulled a half-empty bag of frozen fries from the freezer. Sam put a hand to his mouth and whispered to Bailey. "Thank god, she's using a normal appliance. If she just up and downloaded a burger I was gonna freak." Ganymede then proceeded to take a couple of tiny brown tablets from a nearby cupboard and place them into the second gadget Sam had noticed earlier, the one with the tiny mechanical arm. A few bubbles rose from the bottom of the transparent water tank to the top, and the tiny arm whirred to life, depositing atop the tablets a drop of water each. In barely any time at all the tablets had unfurled and expanded, fully transformed into hamburger buns nearly the size of a human head, sesame seeds and all. Sam's poker face was resolute, and polished as bronze. “I uh... I need to go bleed the l-... Relieve myself, 'scuse me..." Despite the Captain's orders and Ganymede's concerned hand, Sam got to his feet. She chuckled as Sam leaned to whisper at her opening her mouth to agree - only to cringe as his concern became reality His expression was inscrutable as he fled across the bay despite Ganymede's warning to remain seated. "Sam wa-" He was gone across the foyer before she had a chance to finish. She sighed heavily, concerned, and rubbed at the back of her neck."That boy gonna be okay, sugar?" The cook sighed with a light bob of her head as she dropped the fries into the scalding fryer oil. "I have no idea," Bailey answered truthfully, "I literally just met him thirty minutes ago in a forest..." She massaged her temple, feeling an on coming headache. It wasn't bred out of frustration or concern, but long drawn out fatigue. Bailey was exhausted.  The ship's din quieted as people sorted themselves among the plush leather seats and others hunkered down for the long haul. Light music floated out of the speakers, crackling with dynamic feedback. It was old and country - no doubt the Captain's choice. Ganymede swept away from her for a moment, busy with other passengers, and prepping their order. This was just another day at work for the chef. This was just another day for all of them. This was so normal for them. Like a commercial flight to Honolulu or Mexico... Except they were orbit bound. Her phone, resting on the counter, buzzed with a update notice. Captain Larrz had warned them they had a small window of opportunity to make any urgent calls. With the horizon slowly ebbing away into a sky darkened with encroaching stars, Bailey knew it was closing. The network bars were slowly decreasing by the minute, a 'roaming' warning popped up in the corner. She brought up her contacts with a tap of her thumb, hovering over 'Mom.' Bailey clicked the green call icon and brought the receiver to her ear. "Heya honey!" Her Mother's voice erupted excitedly from the other end. "It's pretty late for you to be calling - early? God, what time is it even over there?" She questioned, the sounds of a fire and luau music crackling through the speaker. "Hey, Mom." Bailey hoped her voice didn't crack. "I was up early, wanted to see how you and Charlie were doing?" "We're doing great, sweetheart, you should see the view from the hotel. It's breath taking. Just like the post cards we used to look at remember?" Bailey's eyes fled plasma screens that ringed the ship, Earth slowly spreading out before her in a 1080p panoramic. "That sounds amazing, Mom. I'm so glad you're having fun. You deserve it you know." She trailed off. Bailey closed her eyes and wanted to only focus on her Mother's voice. She didn't know when she would hear it again. "Mom?" "Uhuh?" "I love you, you know that right?" "Of course, baby... What's wrong?" She fretted, the enthusiasm lost from her voice. She tsked. "I knew we shouldn't have left you by yourself - I can cancel, we come home early --" Bailey, hearing the crackle of an impending disconnect, rushed to say."I just wanted to tell you that I love you and you're the best, you know?" "Awe, honey - Just a week more and we'll be ho-- fzzt crack" Bailey stared mournfully at the 'no signal' symbol that flashed across her screen. "... But I don't know if I'll be." -  Sam felt the force of the ship's ascension with every step as he trudged in the direction of the bathroom sign (three figures, the standard blue and pink man and woman, and another between them that was green with a tiny "ETC." on the head). He stumbled through the door to the men's and looked around to see if anyone else was there. When he determined that it was just him in there with only the stalls and urinals for company, he fell to his elbows on a flat space between the sinks. He ran his hands roughly across his hair, distraught, the impossibility of his situation and the forces of elevation not helping matters. "Okay... I'm not dreaming. That's... I'm not stupid enough to think this is a dream..." His breathing was heavy and ragged. He'd been walking for far too long. Hoping it would wake him up, he cranked the cold water and splashed it across his face. He met himself in the mirror with eyes that were screaming for clarity, the droplets of water streaming down his face granting the illusion that he was sweating bullets. "Yeah... Yeah, definitely not dreaming." He put his full weight on the counter, forehead resting on his crossed forearms. "Aliens exist. Magic exists. Faeries exist. Everything is real." He looked up at his scowling reflection. "So, idiot. Was it worth it? Magic School... What the hell was I thinking..." He took out his phone and tried to turn it on, forgetting it had died. "... No. No, no turning back now. Anywhere's better than there. Anywhere's better..." He took a deep breath and looked himself dead in the eye. "You did the right thing."