Peter was knocked to the ground, which was considerably rougher than he expected. The two men managed to stay on their feet, and they were looking at him as if he had three heads. He didn’t recognize the language they started quietly conversing in, though he thought it might be something from Eastern Europe.
Closer examination determined that the ground was paved with uneven cobblestones, the edges not even rounded off. The buildings on either side of him showed no sign of modern technology whatsoever. Had he accidentally wandered into a historical reenactment? No, the full moon above him didn’t look familiar either.
It wasn’t until one of the men bent closer and shouted that Peter realized they were talking to him. “I don’t know what language you’re speaking; do you know English?”
Both men stepped back and put their heads together, whispering furiously. When they came back, one stuck out his hand and spoke slowly and calmly.
“Still don’t understand. Parlez-vous francais?” Peter asked as he took the offered hand and was hauled to his feet. The men tilted their heads to the side. “Sprichst du Deutsch?” Still no reaction. “Hablas Espanol?” Nope. He gave up.
One of the men ran off, the other pulled a bottle from inside his coat – not a style Peter could remember seeing in person – and offered it after taking a sip himself. Peter took a swig and nearly choked. Something badly distilled, or maybe it was wine cut with vodka? After swallowing, he forced a smile and handed the bottle back. The strange man was laughing.
Remembering his phone, Peter found it on the cobblestones. Miraculously it was undamaged. He tried opening google translate, but the app just complained about not having an internet connection. His phone wasn’t detecting signals at all. He stared at it for a minute, debating, but ultimately powered it down and stashed it safely in a pocket.
While standing there awkwardly, Peter studied the little man. Pointed ears, pointed teeth, downy fuzz on his cheeks suggesting no facial hair … was he even human? A knobby stick hung from his belt and his pants were tucked into boots that nearly reached the knee. Peter looked around, hoping for somewhere to sit down.
When the other man finally returned, there were several others with him. One was clearly an officer of some sort, and there was one hobbling along aided by a gnarled stick, wispy hair waving without wind. There was quite a bit of chattering in the strange language, Peter being completely ignored. Until he wasn’t.
The officer faced him and started asking things in an authoritative tone, prompting the first two men to jump between them and speak rapidly. Squeezing his eyes shut and pressing knuckles to forehead, the man in charge turned and called a question.
The funny little one with wispy hair hobbled over, firing off a long report, obviously frustrated. Words went back and forth a few times, and then the hobbling man came right up to Peter, squinting at him. Fishing around in his pockets and muttering to himself, the man closed his eyes and held something up, causing a flash of light somehow, and then smiled. He offered Peter a little gemstone on a hemp cord.
When Peter didn’t take it right away, he mimed putting it over his own head, then offered it again. Before Peter could take it, the officer snatched it and pulled it down around Peter’s head.
“Do you understand me now?” the officer demanded.
“Yes,” Peter answered, surprised. “Do you understand me?”
“It would have been pointless if I couldn’t, now, wouldn’t it? Can I ask you a few questions?”
“How is this possible? Magic?” Peter had a sudden thought that he must be dreaming, but it was for too vivid to be one of his dreams. “You can ask, but I have a feeling it won’t tell you very much.”
“Where did you come from? How did you get here? What are you?”
“What am I? Last I checked I was a human. Or do you mean profession? I was a computer programmer. I doubt you’re familiar with the technology, so maybe that is just gibberish to you. Where did I come from? Halifax, Nova Scotia. In Canada. I was hoping you could tell me how I got here.”
“Canada? Not familiar with that one. Maybe you could tell me what you were doing right before my men ran into you?”
“You haven’t heard of Canada? Half of North America? The largest country on Earth?” Remembering that line would probably just become even more confusing, Peter moved on. “I was walking home, down an empty street, texting my roommate I was halfway there, and then there was a flash of light and then I wasn’t where I thought I was. But I was looking at my phone, a mobile communication device that doesn’t work here. I didn’t see what caused the flash of light.”
“A doorway between worlds opened, and you walked through while you weren’t looking at where you were going. My men were chasing a thief, who opened the doorway to escape. Had it been a standard device they used, we could have just reopened it and pushed you and taken you through when we went to track the thief. But it was random, so it will take a while to do so safely. In fact, extra-worldly affairs are a whole other department. You’ll have to travel to the capital and petition for permission to even try returning.”
“Oh.” That was rather inconvenient. “Where can I sleep for the night? I doubt anyone here accepts the currency I carry.”
“We’ve a few empty bunks. I’m sure we can work something out.” The whole group started walking, and Peter followed.
A moment of panic took Peter when he woke in a strange place. The events of the previous night came back to him, and he stretched. Pulling back the curtain granting him privacy, he found himself face-to-face with a young woman.
“I’ve mended your pants. Didn’t take much, sewing a button back on. I was going to launder your things, but I was informed you haven’t anything else to wear. That won’t do at all, so we’ll have to remedy that.” She sat there staring him in the eye. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get dressed! We’ve lots to do.”
“Hello, my name is Peter. I’m not from here, and where I’m from people don’t usually get dressed where strangers can see them.”
“Hello, you can call me Marla. This isn’t where you’re from, so you had best adjust quickly.” Marla threw his pants at him. Taking a deep breath, he tossed back his blanket and quickly hauled on his pants. She had done good work with the button.
“Thank you, Marla, I was planning to do that myself when I got a chance, but I don’t carry needle and thread.” Peter pulled his socks back on, then his shoes. Marla seemed fascinated with the laces.
“What is the purpose of these loops on your pants?”
“The belt loops? You slide a belt through them so you can hold them up. If I had done that yesterday, I wouldn’t have popped the button.”
“Hmm, yes, that sounds convenient. And what is this material your shoes are made of?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Something made in a factory by mixing refined substances in precise ratios at specific temperatures. The outsole is likely rubber. A crude for can be made from certain plants, but it is a lot of work for a product that isn’t very useful.”
“Well, let’s get going. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb, but that can’t be helped unless we dress you as a Guard, but that would be too much of a gamble. First to the tailor to get you measured, then the baths. We’ll have something casual for you to wear until your new clothes are ready. After that … shopping?”
“Sounds like a busy day. I’ll be tired before we get all that done.”
“All the reason to get moving before the crowds! The heat of the day is keeping most of them inside.”
Peter allowed Marla to drag him out of the barracks into the street, where he was blinded by the sun and needed the guidance.
Soaking in a steaming hot tub of water, Peter relaxed almost to the point of dozing off. There were noises intruding from other bathers, but the curtains provided a sense of peace. He needed it after the visit to the tailor, where he was swarmed by people examining his clothes, wanting to know how zippers were made and how his underwear held themselves up.
Marla swept in with a bundle, which she dropped on a stool, shrugged out of her dress, and proceeded to attack him with soap and scrub brush. She didn’t listen to his protests or attempts at modesty. Minutes later he was standing on the floor after being rinsed with cold water.
“I can dry myself, thank you.” To his surprise, Marla handed over the towel and pulled her dress back on. As far as he could tell, she was wearing two dresses, though he couldn’t understand why. “What am I to wear?”
“For now, we have a robe that won’t look out of place and this undergarment based on your own clothes.” She handed him the bundle of clothing. The ‘undergarment’ turned out to be squarish boxers with a drawstring. As for the robe, it was like an over-sized t-shirt, reaching past his knees. Marla also had acquired him some flip-flops, wood with leather thongs. She had already bundled all his things into a sack, which she handed him to carry. “We’ll need to get you a belt and a purse. When you see people in the market, you might have ideas of what else to look for.”
Hours later, an exhausted Peter lay on his bunk, the curtain pulled closed, the colours still whirling behind his closed eyelids. Sounds he was not used to echoed in his skull, and he still felt nauseous from all the strange scents.
It had been the most enjoyable day he had had in years.
He just needed to hide while he processed all of it.
“Peter, would you like to try some more foods? I have a tray of several things from the refractory you can choose from. I’ve also brought a pitcher of water and a bottle of wine.” Peter didn’t answer right away. “I’ll just leave them here on the table, then. Why am I talking to myself, he’s probably asleep.”
“No, I’m awake. Just resting. I can only take so much new at a time.” He pulled the curtain and moved to the chair. Cautiously poking at the food, sniffing and inspecting everything before taking a bite, Peter couldn’t bring himself to try and have a conversation.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like, to find yourself somewhere so far removed from where you call home.”
“Probably the worst is the suddenness, and the not even knowing this place existed until I was here. Oh, no, the worst is that I didn’t have a choice, that I was here in one step and the doorway closed before I could turn around.”
“Well, you can stay in here as long as you want. I’ve emptied your pockets and laundered your clothes; I’m just waiting for them to dry. Your orders won’t be ready for a day or two, so there is no worry there. Can you read?”
Peter blinked. “That’s a good question. This little gem around my neck works on spoken word, but does it work for written word?”
“Probably not. I can find a book so you can see, if you would like.”
“Might as well.”
Marla nodded and left him in the room of bunks he had to himself.
Peter woke to the thud of a book being dropped on the table by Marla. “This is the only one I could find that I was allowed to bring here.”
Rolling back to the floor, he examined the book and carefully opened it. The marks on the page may as well have been cuneiform. “Nope, doesn’t work on writing. That would have been too useful.” Peter closed the book and pushed it back to Marla. “Is there a way to get a blank book? One I can write in?”
“I thought you couldn’t read?”
“I can’t read your language. I can still read and write my own.”
“You want to document your journey?”
“That was the thought, yes.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”