\nCynthia Toms clung to her bed like a life raft sinking in a sea of chaos. Maybe if she didn\u2019t open her eyes, the world would give up and go away. Trying to do the right thing, over the course of the last three weeks, had turned her existence into a hot mess. First, she was fired as assistant barista second-class from a downtown San Antone Starbucks. Then Herbie, the expresso guy, dumped her for the cold-brew girl- because Cynthia was \u201csmothering his bliss.\u201d After that, the cat she tried to rescue ran away, presumably to a better home two streets over; and to top it off, last night just before bed, she stepped on her glasses. They now had a lightning crack over the left eye that made her look like a crazy woman.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe exhaled and rolled over into a crucified position. \u201cAt this point,\u201d she said out loud, \u201ccrazy would be easy. I\u2019ll just stay in this heap of an apartment, gorging on cheese doodles and talking to myself until social services arrive.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nTrouble was, her bladder was about to burst. \u201cPain! The great motivator,\u201d she moaned.\n<\/p>\n
\nWith tremendous effort, she righted herself and searched with her toe for her slippers. She found the left slipper and while groping for its partner, she hit upon her broken glasses. Wearing her broken glasses, her WWF t-shirt with the spaghetti stain over the panda\u2019s face, and one slipper, she shuffled into her cramped apartment bathroom. Once finished with the commode, she summoned the gargantuan effort necessary to confront herself in the mirror. She sighed. Brown curls fought for control of her forehead, while several renegade strands of hair reached upwards as if possessed. She leaned in. \u201cSo, this is what hair looks like when it has given up on life.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nIt caught her by surprise- the loud \u201cPop!\u201d- followed by the \u201cBang!\u201d And then the whole room reverberated. Out of sheer self-preservation, she crouched and squinted into the mirror. Plaster trickled to the floor from the wall behind her as a jagged hole appeared. It was dark, and no bigger than a nail-hole, yet the insides swirled with a strange purple light.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe spun around just as an object the size and shape of a pumpkin seed sailed out of the hole. Four similar shapes followed it. \u201cGreat. Flying termites. Just what I need.\u201d She raised her hand to swat them then stopped. They were humming. \u201cWhat type of termites hum?\u201d She peered through her cracked glasses. The things reflected off the bathroom light, like they were made of metal. She ran a hand across her cheek and stepped back, \u201cI\u2019m losing my mind.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHer doorbell chimed. She jumped at the sound of a man\u2019s voice. \u201cMs. Toms?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOh great! The landlord,\u201d she said to the little buggies, then shuffled out, clicking the door shut.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMr. Bukowski,\u201d she said, opening the front door. A gangly man in his mid-seventies, sporting a long hipster beard, stood impatiently on the bright sidewalk leading to her apartment.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWoe!\u201d he said when he saw her. \u201cDidn\u2019t think it was that early.\u201d His beard yo-yo\u2019ed up and down on his chin whenever he spoke. The motion reminded Cynthia of a ventriloquist\u2019s dummy performing one-liners. \u201cIt\u2019s about the rent,\u201d he said, his beard yo-yoing. \u201cYou\u2019re past due. If you can\u2019t pay by tomorrow. You\u2019ll find your stuff waiting for you on the curb. Sorry- young lady.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nNot so young anymore Mr. Bukowski. She wanted to say. Instead, she said, \u201cLook at this place. The water comes out as brown as the Rio Grande, the AC has two settings- frostbite or arctic blast, and if I\u2019m not losing my mind there seems to be some kind of insect infestation in my bathroom. It may lay vacant a long time if you boot me out.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNevertheless, you have until tomorrow. I\u2019m sorry,\u201d he repeated and he lumbered away, the tools on his work belt clanging with each step.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat I need, is a little diversion,\u201d she said in a huff. She found the bottle of gin under the sink and poured two shot glasses. One for the Cynthia who used to give a damn and one for the Cynthia who was determined to never get a job, never fall in love, and never set foot in the real world again. She raised her glass in a toast. \u201cHere\u2019s to my new motto. If you don\u2019t try, you don\u2019t fail.\u201d She downed both shots and followed them with several more. It was 11 AM.\n<\/p>\n
\nBy two o\u2019clock, she was swinging the bottle low and circling her cluttered dinette table reciting her new motto. Wasn\u2019t repeatedly talking to yourself the first sign? Maybe she actually was losing her mind. Not unlike the poor homeless woman out front of the store standing in the rain she had given a free coffee too. Or the crazy brown cat she rescued from the rain and hid in the supply room. Events, that eventually got her fired.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe tip-toed to the bathroom and eased open the door.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe insects were building some kind of a nest. It hovered a good five feet from the middle of her bathroom floor with a lot of bugs buzzing about it. They really were amazing. She peered closer and whispered, \u201cHovering nests?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe set down the gin and staggered back to a kitchen drawer. She found the huge magnifying glass she used to read microwave cooking instructions with and patted back to the bathroom.\n<\/p>\n
\nA line of pumpkin seed bugs seemed to be commuting between the nest and the hole in her wall, which had now grown to the size of a quarter. She held up the magnifying glass. The hole was very dark but the seeds were spewing out of what looked like a purple-blue funnel worming its way out of the blackness.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe moved to the nest thingy. It floated at maybe four inches square. The insects frantically filled it with weird webs of scaffolding and platforms and oddly colored oblong structures. \u201cIncredible!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe zoomed in closer. There were minuscule doors and windows, with tiny, tiny creatures scurrying to-and-fro as they worked. The creatures were kind of pleasant to look at, like happy yellow dust motes with arms and legs. This wasn\u2019t a nest at all. It was some kind of metal frame. She could see that now. The seeds too, they were more like tiny ships, filled with busy yellow dot people, moving back and forth inside.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe let the heavy magnifying glass clatter to the tile floor. She slowly leaned against the far wall and slid down onto her haunches. \u201cOkay, it’s official. I\u2019m bat-crap crazy.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nTrue to her new motto, she did the only thing she was capable of doing at the time. She stumbled back to bed, and slept until five forty-five A.M. the next day.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe woke. Without thinking she headed to the bathroom.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe four-inch square structure floating in the middle of the room had now doubled in size. It had grown to roughly the dimensions of a toaster. With an impressive complex of intricate buildings and miniature spaceports, haloed by an entire regatta of seed-ships in various holding patterns. \u201cOh. My. God!\u201d Cynthia said, \u201cThey\u2019re building a little city! A city, with a spectacular view of my toilet!\u201d It was almost flattering. But if she got evicted\u2026\n<\/p>\n
\nShe hopped back to her bed and sitting cross-legged against a pillow, fired up her laptop. It was now up to Google. Before dropping out, four months of community college had taught her how to perform a perfect keyword search.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cFirst,\u201d she said, \u201cwe have to find out who you are.\u201d She typed: \u201cWhat are tiny little holes in your bathroom that have strange flying seeds buzzing out of them?\u201d Yeah\u2026no good. She tried: \u201cSwirling holes.\u201d Then, \u201cBang holes.\u201d Then, \u201cPopping, banging swirling holes.\u201d Which brought up a whole slew of graphic images she\u2019d likely never forget. Next, she tried: \u201cAppearing holes,\u201d which lead to the Big Bang theory, which lead to the controversial, Little Bang Theory, derived from the work of Hawking in 1971. This proposed that lots of small black holes could have been produced by the Big Bang or possibly through subsequent phase transitions.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe frowned, and read on. Currently, the Little Bang theory was being explored by an associate professor of physics at the University of Texas named Heart. Evidently, Heart and his hypotheses had been unanimously dismissed by many of his fellows. \u201cPoor guy,\u201d Cynthia said, glancing at a photo of a young man in a plaid suit sweating under hot camera lights. \u201cHe looks sweet. A little goofy, but sweet.\u201d She tapped the screen. \u201cHurts to have your hypotheses judged, doesn\u2019t it, cutie?\u201d Then she stopped. The proposed rendering of Professor Heart\u2019s tiny bang hole was a dead ringer for hers. The caption read, \u201cCould be a possible means for interstellar transportation.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHot damn,\u201d she said, smacking herself on the forehead. \u201cI don\u2019t believe it. They\u2019re aliens! Little, tiny, aliens living in my bathroom. And I\u2019m not even allowed to sublet.\u201d She shook her head, and said, \u201cNow who\u2019s gonna look out for them?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nAt the bottom of the site was a link to Heart\u2019s email. \u201cWhat the hell.\u201d She dashed off a description of the tiny-tot-dots and the hole in her wall. Five minutes later she was surprised to hear the \u201cding\u201d of a response. It read:\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYour description is incredibly detailed. Do you have any physical proof?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe jumped up, took a picture of the hole with her phone and then, against her better judgment, took a picture of the structure. She sent them both off to him in an attachment with the reply: \u201cHow\u2019s this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe responded: \u201cEither a great job of photoshopping or world-shattering proof that life exists elsewhere in the universe. In any event, I am intrigued. If this is legit, it must be documented immediately. Please forward your address.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSure.\u201d She sent her address. Then she sat back, ran her fingers through her hair, and panicked. \u201cI don\u2019t know this guy, what if he ends up hurting them? The whole scenario of her screwing up yet again, rushed toward her like an oncoming bus.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe emailed back, \u201cYou can\u2019t come. The address I sent you was fake. Sorry.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cFake? Wait. Listen, you seem like a nice person and this is quite important. Let me investigate. Or at the very least allow me to communicate with them before it\u2019s too late. In theory, tiny holes of this type should eventually evaporate.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cForget it. You can\u2019t come here. And don\u2019t ask me to meet you cause I\u2019m never leaving my apartment again, except to buy gin.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cGin? That explains a lot. LOL\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat? That explains nothing. You nerd!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAgggghhh!!\u201d she screamed and slammed down the laptop lid.\n<\/p>\n
\nSomething professor-nerd had mentioned pecked away at her for hours. When she nudged open the bathroom door, the amount of construction the tiny-tot-dots had accomplished astonished her. It wasn\u2019t that the thing was bigger, just more complex, more dazzling. Intricate avenues bisected miniature skyscrapers one built atop the other and all adorned with twinkling lights. They were like seven-year-olds with a subatomic Lego set. Maybe, as Professor P.H.D. Smartass suggested, she should get to know her guests.\n<\/p>\n
\nIn a relaxed, friendly voice, she said, \u201cTiny-tot-dots? Yoo-hoo? Aliens? Can you hear me?\u201d They froze. She hadn\u2019t bothered with the magnifying glass and it was difficult to see. She moved in closer. She scrunched shut the eye behind the cracked lens while crinkling her nose. They scrambled away helter-skelter. It occurred to her that until now, she must have been nothing more to them than a giant, blurry, foreign object, hovering in the background. Like a cumulus storm cloud, you might be too preoccupied to notice. She pictured a humongous head moving ever closer, with uncombed hair and a funky nor\u2019easter blast of morning breath. Not to mention an earth-shattering voice. Louder than a Christina Aguilera concert.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe backed off and whispered as softly as she could, \u201cWelcome to Earth. I hope you like it. I know it\u2019s a mess but you have landed in my filthy bathroom. Can I get you anything? Cappuccino? Gin?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nTinkling alarms sounded all over the structure in rapid succession. Tiny-tot-dots scattered in terror. \u201cOh, God, I\u2019ve made it worse,\u201d she stepped back. \u201cDidn\u2019t mean to frighten you guys. Don\u2019t zap me or anything.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHey! Keep it down!\u201d Small flakes of plaster flittered onto the top of the alien structure as the super-sized, hairy guy who lived upstairs, pounded on his floor. \u201cSorry!\u201d Cynthia shouted at her ceiling.\n<\/p>\n
\nA second wave of alarms joined the first. \u201cOh my, oh my. Hang on.\u201d Cynthia ran to her kitchen and returned with three white paper coffee filters. She draped them carefully over the structure to protect them from the falling specks of plaster.\n<\/p>\n
\nOne by one the alarms grew silent.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cPhew!\u201d she pursed her lips and clutched her chest. Caring for them was going to be harder than she realized. She took a seat on the toilet lid, resting her chin in her hands and watched as they set immediately to work incorporating the make-shift filters into their design. Studying them made her feel good. Like some kind of scientist. Like Jane Goodall with, what was it? The leopards? She observed how they worked continually, and always together. If an arrangement collapsed or for some reason didn\u2019t suit them, they tore it down and rebuilt. If a structure was off-balance, they constantly enhanced it, always rebuilding, always rethinking, and always together.\n<\/p>\n
\nFor no apparent reason, Cynthia thought of a waterspout and a song she learned at summer camp. The one about the itsy-bitsy spider. No matter how hard it rained or how many times the spider was washed out of that spout, eventually the sun would come out, and that sucker would try again. Even when any other self-respecting bug would have given up and gone home\u2026 it didn\u2019t. It kept going. Just like the little-tot-dots.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHuh\u2026\u201d she said out loud. She stood up, careful not to distract her ambitious little visitors and looked hard at herself in the mirror. \u201cShit!\u201d she sighed. \u201cI don\u2019t even recognize myself.\u201d She gripped the edge of the sink and leaned in, looking herself straight in her one good eye. \u201cCynthia Mora Toms, You\u2019ve got to get a hold of yourself. If buggy alien dust motes can build, and keep building, a thinga-ma-jig in your bathroom, you can at least get your ass together.\u201d In a grand, dramatic gesture she yanked a cheese doodle bit out of her hair.\n<\/p>\n
\nGrabbing her brush, she carefully combed out the rat\u2019s nest of knots. She washed her face. Not wanting to risk a shower, she wiped down with a washcloth and slipped on a pair of clean jeans, along with a nice blouse. She set to work picking up the apartment. In her clothes hamper she found her spare eyeglasses. Next came the kitchen. The dishes alone took close to an hour. At last, she was able to sit down with a hot cup of chamomile tea. And it felt good. It felt right. I\u2019m gonna be okay, she thought.\n<\/p>\n
\nThen there came a knock at the door.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe rose up on her tip-toes to peep through the hole and recognized professor-nerd immediately. But really, even through the fisheye lens of the peephole, and wearing a tie two sizes too fat, he wasn\u2019t that bad looking. \u201cPlease go away.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI don\u2019t mean to bother you,\u201d he said through the door. \u201cI can\u2019t stop thinking about this picture.\u201d He held up a print of the photo.\n<\/p>\n
\nOnly Cynthia wasn\u2019t looking. She turned, pressing her back against the door.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019ve enlarged the picture and the details confirm everything I\u2019ve proposed. It appears that your tiny black hole is spewing out jets of particles well beyond the event horizon.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cFor one thing, It\u2019s not my black hole,\u201d she said. \u201cNot personally.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt\u2019s a phenomenon and it\u2019s important. If this is for real, It would validate my work once and for all. Can we talk? I\u2019ll only take a minute. And I promise I won\u2019t try to look in your bathroom.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMs. Toms?\u201d Cynthia heard Bukowski pass by out on the walk, \u201cIs this man bothering you?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAh\u2026no. Thanks, Mr. Bukowski. It\u2019ll be fine,\u201d she answered through the door. With a loud \u201cclick,\u201d she unlocked the bolt and let the guy in, but not without first tossing the landlord a reassuring grin.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhile in the process of shutting the door, an emaciated, ginger-colored cat squeezed through and trotted into the apartment, like he owned the place. \u201cOh sure,\u201d Cynthia said, raising hands in the air, \u201cNow you show up!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nProfessor Heart asked, \u201cWhat\u2019s the cat’s name?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cToffee nut in a short cup.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI Get it. You found him at a coffee shop.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe smiled, basking in the simpatico.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI apologize for the intrusion,\u201d he adjusted his shoulder back and stuck out a hand. \u201cI\u2019m Robert.\u201d He looked to her like a young but disheveled Mark Ruffalo. Before he turns into the hulk. She shook his hand. It was sweaty and soft.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOkay, Robert. I started this.\u201d She said, \u201cAt the very least you can prove I\u2019m not delusional. This way to the phenomenon.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nBy now, the hodge-podge object floating in the middle of the room was slightly larger than a plastic milk crate. The sight of the multi-level structure of platforms complete with miniature Tonka-Toy sized boom-cranes and galactic construction equipment alone, made him catch his breath, while the tiny black hole swirling inches above her towel rack seemed to devastate him. \u201cAstounding,\u201d he murmured, eyeing the structure. \u201cAre those coffee filters?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYes, they came from star\u2026 bucks.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe examined the hole. \u201cI was correct,\u201d he said. \u201cThey have somehow learned to produce black holes at will. That\u2019s probably how they derive their energy and travel from place to place. See how the tiny craft are transporting materials between the hole and the structure? Obviously, this is some sort of waystation for them. They\u2019re probably explorers, obviously fleeing a degenerating solar system for a more hospitable one.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cObviously,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWho knows, a wormhole through a black hole could be a normal means of transportation for them. The fact that it\u2019s your bathroom is a mere coincidence. To them, it\u2019s a stopover. A chance to reboot and reorganize before moving on to\u2026 who knows\u2026 great distances in space, or even\u2026 a jumping point through the multiverse.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cRight. Like a cosmic Airbnb.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThis could just be the beginning. A great many civilizations may be out there doing this.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI hope they\u2019re all as nice as these little guys.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAnd size doesn\u2019t matter.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe smiled, \u201cI\u2019ve heard that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI mean. We\u2019re giants to them, then again they could be giants to some other miniature race who, even now, could be popping in and out of our world on a microscopic level, and we\u2019d never know it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cLet\u2019s hope a race of giants doesn\u2019t decide to pop in. I don\u2019t think I\u2019ve been the best of hosts to these guys already and I\u2019d just hate to get a bad rating.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nAs they watched, a sprinkling of silver-white pellets drifted like pixie dust from the bottom of the station and on to the tile.\n<\/p>\n
\nRobert pulled a pencil from his bag, squatted down and picked through the particles.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe squatted close beside him and leaned in.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI have a geologist friend who could double-check, but do you know what I think this is?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe shook her head. \u201cPalladium.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cPaladium? Like the old theater downtown?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo, no. Palladium like the rare metal residue found in Wormholes. It\u2019s named after the Goddess Athena. Who, I might say, you resemble a great deal.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDon\u2019t\u2026 stop.\u201d She blushed.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe grew quiet.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo, seriously,\u201d she said with a laugh, \u201cDon\u2019t stop.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAnyhow,\u201d he continued, \u201cLooks like the stuff is a byproduct for them. But, it has a value to us. If I had to guess, I\u2019d say an ounce is probably worth 50 to 60.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDollars?\u201d her eyes grew wide.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOf course. Naturally whatever cash comes out of this would be yours to keep.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMaybe, except there\u2019s this lady who likes to stand out in the rain in front of a coffee shop who could use it more than me.\u201d Cynthia glanced up at the station. \u201cAnd to think, to them, it\u2019s nothing more than trash day.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe pulled a Ziplock from his bag and swept the pellets inside.\n<\/p>\n
\nThey tried to stand together. Only on her way back up she banged her head against the bottom of the structure, which caused an almost imperceptible series of tiny bells and sirens to wail. Smoke poured from the top section and tiny-tot-dot emergency craft raced to-and-fro. \u201cOh my God. Oh no! Sorry little guys. My bad,\u201d Cynthia cried. The bells revved up even louder. \u201cAgggghhh!!\u201d she screamed, \u201cWhy is it every time I try to help someone it backfires?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou\u2019re a thoughtful person.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe flashed her eyes at him and shouted, \u201cAm I?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nAs they watched, the station sank downwards on a collision course with the shower curtain. Simultaneously, with a small \u201cPop!\u201d and a \u201cBang,\u201d a pinhole-sized spot appeared across from the first hole, on the opposite wall, ten inches from her bathroom mirror.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s happening?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThey could be creating another hole. An escape hatch, maybe.\u201d He shrugged. \u201dYou know, time to move on.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo, no, no.\u201d She gestured as if to stop them. \u201cIt can\u2019t end like this. Not because of me, and my enormous clumsy head. Can\u2019t you do something?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cLike what? Instantly reverse a miniature gravitational field?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWe have to save them,\u201d she shouted. She bit the ridge of her clenched fist. Blinked, and said, \u201cHold on.\u201d She dashed out and returned with a box of push pins, a spool of yarn and a single black high-heel pump.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cGet it?\u201d She held up the shoe. \u201cThey’re tools.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou can\u2019t hammer them with that. You\u2019ll kill hundreds of them.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWe\u2019re gonna tie a line running from each corner of the station to each corner of the room.\u201d \u201cHere,\u201d she said, \u201cgrab the edges while I attach the yarn.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNot high enough,\u201d he said when she tried to hang the first end. \u201cLet me.\u201d He took the shoe from her and pounded at the pin until he hit his thumb. \u201cAh, shit.\u201d He sucked the thumb.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCareful,\u201d she said, \u201cthose are my best pumps.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen they were finished and the station was finally secure, he produced a small portable camera from his bag. He pressed the camera with its double-sided tape to the wall just above the mirror. He reached to switch it on, saying, \u201cIt links directly to my lab laptop.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHold on there buster,\u201d she caught his arm and eased it down.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe jerked away, \u201cI am obligated to report this. This is too important a discovery to keep to ourselves.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou are obligated to no one but these little alien people. You said it yourself, they are probably only passing through. Don\u2019t be a nerdy science dork. Leave them alone.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI’m not a nerdy science dork. This is bigger than the both of us.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cActually, it\u2019s smaller than the both of us, much, much smaller. It\u2019s the little things that count in life, you know? Like Goodall and her leopards. It\u2019s thoughtless people that come along and screw up everything. Let nature, no matter whose nature it might be, do its thing. Let the little aliens climb up the waterspout if they want to.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat waterspout?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nCynthia\u2019s doorbell rang. \u201cPlease,\u201d she said to him, \u201cJust stay here.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHello, Mr. Bukowski,\u201d she blocked the door with a leisurely pose. \u201cLovely day isn\u2019t it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYeah, sure. Only I\u2019d enjoy it a lot more if you\u2019d hand me a check.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nA soft mechanical hum radiated from her bathroom. The commotion attracted the cat who immediately padded to the door to paw at the crack.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSomebody doing work in there without my permission?\u201d Bukowski asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAh\u2026 no. Hang on.\u201d She strolled nonchalantly to the door and opened it a sliver. The station was disassembling. It was still stable, hanging from the yarn, but it was now only about half its former size. A line of small, busy craft whizzed between the structure and the swirling new hole like an ant superhighway.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThey’re leaving, and quickly,\u201d said Robert. \u201cThey are dismantling the whole thing like kids tearing apart last semesters science project. I don\u2019t know how to stop them.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou have to keep down their noise, Bukowski\u2019s out here. And skinny here would like nothing more than a bite of alien fancy feast.\u201d The cat turned his head side-ways trying to squeeze his whiskers through the opening.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019ll try. Except, as you so eloquently put it, maybe I should just leave them alone to do their thing.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMs. Toms?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nCynthia twirled about to find the landlord standing two feet away from her. She leaned against the bathroom door.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe hum increased from the bathroom.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhy don\u2019t I just have a look,\u201d Bukowski said, inching closer.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe bathroom door opened and Robert popped out, smiling sheepishly.\n<\/p>\n
\nBukowski’s beard yo-yoed into a “shame-on-you grin.”\n<\/p>\n
\nA rapid-fire series of pops echoed from the bathroom and the whole apartment shuddered slightly.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat the hell is going on in there,\u201d Bukowski stepped forward.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWait!\u201d Cynthia cut him off. \u201cThere may be a few unmentionables hanging about, and I wouldn’t want you to have to mention them.\u201d She wedged herself between him and the door and peeked inside. A whiff of white smoke hung in the center of the room, and that was all. No ships, no station, no more tiny-tot-dots, no new tiny black hole, exit way sealed. She swung around to face them, \u201cMy mistake, no unmentionables worth mentioning.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nBukowski pushed his way in, followed by Robert and Toffee nut in a short cup. \u201cWhy don\u2019t we all just pile in,\u201d Cynthia said sarcastically. She crowded in behind them. \u201cNothing better than a fun-filled morning in Cynthia Tom\u2019s bathroom.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat’re these strings for?\u201d Bukowski asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThe unmentionables I meant to hang.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAnd this hole?\u201d He held out a finger, ready to stick it in the original portal. Cynthia and Robert cringed. But nothing happened. It was nothing more than a quarter-sized hole in the plasterboard.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI did that with my shoe, trying to hang the yarn.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe leaned down, his toolbelt rattling, and picked up the shoe. After turning it over in his palm a few times, he handed it back to her. \u201cLet me do the fixin\u2019 around here from now on, if you don\u2019t mind.\u201d Suddenly Bukowski pointed to something overhead. \u201cNow what\u2019s that?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt\u2019s a camera. For security,\u201d Robert said.\n<\/p>\n
\nBukowski\u2018s eyes narrowed in on him.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cLook,\u201d Robert said, \u201cit\u2019s not even on.\u201d He reached up and hit the switch. A tiny red light blinked as it came to life.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cListen. Nothing kinky goes on in my building.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nRobert tapped his nose with the tip of his finger and said, \u201cLet\u2019s hope not.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAlright,\u201d Cynthia said. \u201cshows over.\u201d She shooed them along. And they trudged out, the cat prancing behind them, crying for attention.\n<\/p>\n
\nBukowski halted, one foot on her doormat about to say something. Cynthia cut him off, \u201cYou\u2019ll have your rent, Mr. Bukowski. I don\u2019t know from where, but you\u2019ll have it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe grumbled and clink-clanked away. Toffee in a short cup hot on his heels.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCat-edict Arnold!\u201d Cynthia shouted at the cat and slammed the door.\n<\/p>\n
\nNo sooner were they gone then Cynthia and Robert gravitated back to the bathroom and peeked in.\n<\/p>\n
\nAfter a moment Robert remarked, \u201cGreatest scientific discovery of our time. Too bad we don\u2019t have any real documentation. If they had only stayed longer we could have set up a dedicated website and maybe raised mountains of funding.”\n<\/p>\n
\n“Yeah forget the rent. I could buy the place and turn it into an intergalactic waystation. At least for as long as we could have kept it secret.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSecret?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSure. To protect them. They have a right.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAs do we. Think of the exchange of knowledge.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIn time. I suppose,\u201d She leaned against the doorframe, \u201cuntil then, I could have taken care of them. Used recyclable coffee filters. Called it the World Alien Wildlife Federation. Sure, it wasn\u2019t ideal having first contact two feet from my commode. But still, I think I\u2019m gonna miss the little fellas.\u201d On impulse, she reached over and straightened his fat tie saying, \u201cI just hope they’re happy wherever they are.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI know what would make me happy,\u201d he said, glancing nervously away. \u201cYou and I going out for a cup of coffee.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAhaaaa?\u201d She crinkled her nose. \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCup of gin?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019ll get my purse.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou know something, Professor?\u201d she said, slipping on the strap of her bag and taking his arm, \u201cYou may not be such a nerdy dork after all.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThanks. Turns out maybe\u2026 neither are you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe grinned and locked the door behind them.\n<\/p>\n
\nFor a long time, Cynthia Tom\u2019s apartment lay in absolute silence.\n<\/p>\n
\nThen, a hole left in her bathroom wall, began to hum.\n<\/p>\n
\nAn object, the size of a sweet pea popped out. After a loud ripping, crashing sound, a walnut, a banana, and two watermelon shaped objects followed. Only they were metallic and engulfed in a rainbow of colors. The first watermelon-sized craft let loose a uniform squadron of sweet peas that hovered above the tile floor depositing pile after pile of silver-white pellets. The banana craft performed aerial acrobatics over and around the shower current bar. It zoomed to within an inch of the blinking camera and put on a dazzling miniature light display.\n<\/p>\n
\nAs if on command, the objects froze mid-air. One by one, They buzzed, they flittered, they swarmed to the center of the bathroom, and then, together\u2026 they set to work.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Cynthia Toms clung to her bed like a life raft sinking in a sea of chaos. Maybe if she didn\u2019t open her eyes, the world would give up and go away. Trying to do the right thing, over the course of the last three weeks, had turned her existence into a hot mess. First, she …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":106810,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-137623","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/137623","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/106810"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=137623"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/137623\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":137624,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/137623\/revisions\/137624"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=137623"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=137623"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=137623"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}