Chapter 6 – Is That a Ministry in Your Pocket?
Approaching the modular building, Carl’s friend was relieved they were finally able to arrive at the ministry hoping to track down his salad, or at least to find out if it returned home and he himself could end this strange and unique, sometimes disturbing trip. The journey, starting off exciting and intriguing, meeting all types of unique creatures, experiencing different drinks and food, now quickly became exhausting and lackluster, slowly shrinking Carl’s friend’s motivation to continue the expedition.
“Can these guys really help us?” Carl’s friend asked, anxious to come to a definite resolution to their trip.
“Don’t worry, my friend, these guys tend to be very good at what they do. I’m sure we’ll be able to find your salad with their help.”
You see, the ministry tended to be very efficient, sometimes too efficient. They would very often become paralyzed by their own efficiency. Hypothetically, let’s say they wrote a policy or law that no one could jump from dimension to dimension on a certain day of the week. If they later wrote another law that one could only transport during a certain block of days overlapping the day not permitted to transport, they would refer back to the first law. Realizing the conflict and still not able to transport on that day, they would write a completely new policy to review the first two laws to determine if another law should be written to solve the dilemma caused by the first two laws.
“Hi,” the guide said, “we’re here to apply for an inquiry concerning an unregistered salad passing through various inter-dimensions. We believe it may be my friend’s here.”
The administrative assistant, who appeared very attractive to Carl’s friend, having definite features similar to his guide, minus the fact she had a slight blue tint, jet black hair, hazel-brown eyes and wearing bright ruby lipstick. She punched several keys on what appeared to be a very antiquated desktop terminal caked with dust.
“And the origin of this salad?” she asked. “Are you sure you’re in the right office?”
“Oh trust me,” the guide responded. “I’m sure, origin is blue earth. That’s why we’re here instead of standing in that godforsaken line downstairs.”
“Well, I do see activity here concerning an unregistered salad being traced. Hmmm, that’s interesting,” the administrative assistant noted in a soft voice. “Go ahead and take a seat over there,” she said, pointing to a dust covered leather-like couch surrounded by other uniquely shaped seating furniture.
Without taking time to wipe the couch clean, Carl’s friend’s guide just plopped down towards one of the ends, placed his head on one of the armrests and took a nap. Carl’s friend wiped away as much dust as possible, forming a small fog of particulates causing him to cough. Summoned after almost an hour from his best estimate, he was relieved to finally be called in rather than being bored on a dusty couch. Even attempting to play a game on his cell phone was futile, since it seemed the entire software of his device had been modified and was completely unintelligible.
“Please go ahead and wait in there,” the administrative assistant directed, pointing into a large room with a single table, a desktop terminal and two chairs, each on opposite sides, no other furniture. The lighting was subdued. This appeared very ominous to Carl’s friend.
“Someone will be with you shortly,” the administrative assistant continued.
“Thank you,” Carl’s friend replied, entering into the room.
Sitting in the darkened room for only several minutes, Carl’s friend watched the interviewer come in apparently thinking this would be a simple interrogation, that his subject would crack after being in there for what he considered a very long time. Problem was, the first and only time the ministry had interrogated someone from earth, it was a German shepherd, and dogs from what they were told didn’t have a very good sense of elapsed time. Well, since dogs and humans were from the same universe and same planet and tended to hang around together, ministry officials, travelling to observe if planets should be granted open access to travel to different universes, thought humans must also not have a sense of elapsed time and would stress out after only a few minutes.
It was hard for Carl’s friend to take the questioning from his inquisitor seriously, especially since he looked more like a blue, prickly, plastic cucumber entity with a tuft of bright green locks tipped with twinges of orange and two large bulbous white eyes, black pupils, no apparent nose, and a little slit for what appeared to be his mouth. Then it hit him, it looked more like a plastic looking sea anemone. Carl’s friend thought he was talking to a large, squishy alien sea vegetable toy, more so since it didn’t have any feet and bounced into the room. He had to chuckle, and the interrogator seemed not sure how to react to the subtle outburst.
Bouncing into the chair opposite Carl’s friend, several of the wavy filaments on top of the sea anemone extended down to the keyboard of the terminal quickly typing, bringing the terminal display to life.
“So what’s this about you insulting a patron at a bar several neops back?” the interrogator asked flipping through screens.
“Wha…what are you talking about?” Carl’s friend queried, wondering what situation was being discussed and what the heck a neop was?
“Well, I’m talking about one of those fellows you insulted, who has the same name as you?”
“You mean the silver looking guy back at that bar? I can’t help it if he has the same name as me. I had no control on what my parents named me,” Carl’s friend responded defensively.
“But you could have given him a fake name. That’s what most people do when they’re in your situation. You never use your real name with those chaps. Everyone knows that.”
“Well, evidently not me.”
“And where are you from?” the investigator asked looking up astonished from the display terminal.
“Earth.”
“Green earth, earth prime, prime earth, earth version 3…”
Carl’s friend rolled his eyes and sighed interrupting, “Blue earth.”
“Blue earth? The backwards one? Should have figured,” the interviewer remarked, apparently confirming his suspicions as to Carl’s friend’s planet of origin.
“Hey, that’s my planet you’re talking about.” The conversation was beginning to get on Carl’s friend’s nerves. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”
“Actually, I don’t either. I didn’t know we started allowing exit visas from your planet. But you’re here under investigation for being an accomplice in the misuse of dark matter during the inter-dimensional transfer of one salad.”
“Excuse me?” Carl’s friend wondered extremely perplexed. “What the hell is dark matter and what does that have to do with my sa…”
And before Carl’s friend could continue, the investigator interrupted, continuing his reading from the screen. “Let’s see, your salad evidently didn’t properly apportion the correct amount of dark matter when moving from universe to universe, thus causing the unwanted displacement of another salad, that salad thus pressing a complaint. Then there’s your “same name” incident in the bar. And I see here your papers aren’t quite signed off properly for you to be traveling and searching for it. You’ve been somewhat busy, I would say?”
Carl’s friend was dumbfounded, not sure how to comprehend the circumstances. He didn’t have an answer, remaining stunned and silent, which seemed to confuse the interrogator.
“Look, I didn’t do anything wrong,” Carl’s friend snarled.
The interrogator was taken aback by his obstinacy and also confused because he thought for sure the time alone would have deflated and discouraged his interviewee. He remembered the German shepherd had cracked within seconds quickly admitting his part in playing a practical joke on the house cat, inadvertently sending it to the green earth.
“Okay, now calm down,” the interviewer said.
“Why should I calm down, I don’t…”
>
“Please wait here,” the interviewer interrupted while jumping off the chair and bouncing out of the room.
Carl’s friend noticed the terminal display was still active. Glancing at the screen after the door had been closed, none of the lettering appeared comprehensible. The only intelligible item was his picture sitting in a windowed box with other distinct lettering below it. Hearing the door open, Carl’s friend jerked back to his seat pretending he hadn’t moved. He was relieved to see it was his guide.
“Where the hell have you been?” Carl’s friend asked rather boisterously.
“Shhhhh, keep it down. I’m not supposed to be in here.”
“Fine,” he answered more softly. “Where’ve you been?”
“Making a date with the secretary,” Carl’s friend’s guide responded, approaching the table scanning the contents on the display terminal. “Uh oh, this isn’t good. Damn.”
“What isn’t good?”
“They already know your weight. Come on, we gotta go.”
Carl’s friend didn’t hesitate and followed his guide towards the door. Looking out into the hallway, he saw the administrative assistant had left her desk and the hallway was empty. He felt it was safe to exit the room. Walking down the long hallway and coming across a sign board, the guide read it and smiled.
“Good, we need to go this way,” he said pointing back down the hallway in the direction they had just come from. “Cool, they didn’t change things too much since the last time I was here.”
“What do you mean last time you were here?” Carl’s friend asked following his guide who now was moving with an extremely fast gait.
“I’ll tell you later. Right now if we come across anyone who works in here, just act like you’re supposed to be here. They won’t bother us, minus your questioner, of course, then we’re screwed.”
Reaching the end of the hallway where it tied into another hallway full of doors spaced apart from one another at different distances, Carl’s friend’s guide led the two turning right, proceeding past several doors verbally counting off the number of entranceways until he got to seven. Opening the door, both men witnessed what appeared to be a janitorial staff member vacuuming the floor and two chairs opposing one another divided by a table, the only furniture occupying the room.
“Damn German shepherd, shedding all over the place,” the cleaning man mumbled apparently not aware of the two men in the doorway.
“Wrong room,” Carl’s friend’s guide said as they backed out into the hallway.
“What room are we looking for?” Carl’s friend whispered noticing no signs or other markings were placed on or by the doors.
“Bathroom,” Carl’s friend’s guide answered counting the doors as they walked down the hallway. The look on Carl’s friend’s face told his guide he had hit his mark. “I’m joking.”
“You’re joking? I thought we were trying to get out of here?” Carl’s friend said with subdued anger.
The guide smiled. “Ease up, we are.” Looking down the hall, a door distinct from the other doors in the hallway, being painted blue, became apparent. “They moved it. I bet that’s it; they’re always playing practical jokes around here.”
“How’s having a blue door in a hallway of doors a practical joke? Oh never mind,” Carl’s friend commented. He just continued to follow his guide down the hall towards the door.
Peeking in the room, the guide’s face now displayed a massive grin. Inside contained several modular desks and chairs, modern display terminals and elaborate bookshelves, much different than the antiquated office and furniture renderings similar to the ones they had already encountered.
“Damn, it hasn’t changed much,” Carl’s friend’s guide said excitedly charging towards the desk to the furthest right in the room. Approaching his target, rummaging through the drawers, he came up with what looked like a small address book. “Found it.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll tell you later. Let’s just get out of here.”
The men navigated their way through the facility making sure they appeared as if they belonged, because employees of the ministry felt no one would ever try to escape, since there was a law not to escape from the ministry. With the fact that Carl’s friend had disappeared from the interview room, his interrogator submitted paperwork to ensure that his interviewee had actually escaped, and to determine if an alert should be initiated. Well, to ensure there were no overlaps of existing laws or policies, given Carl’s friend actually escaped, the ministry initiated a review of the request and researched existing policies ensuring actions for an escaped individual from the blue earth hadn’t been already accomplished with a recommended course of action. And since Carl’s friend was the first escapee from the blue earth (remember the German shepherd confessed and was now serving his sentence cleaning kitty litters on the green earth), and no other policies or procedures had been established, an all-points bulletin could be initiated. Of course, this allowed more than enough time for Carl’s friend and his guide to leave the building, local area, and the planet without anyone concerned they shouldn’t be in the facility. They both thought they were extremely lucky.
Arriving to the outskirts of the city, the guide sighed with an enormous sense of relief. “Good, we made it out this far, just hope a jump ship is passing by soon,” he said looking at the watch-like device strapped around his wrist. “And hopefully it’ll be on time. One may be by here soon. Just wish I could use this now.” He stared at the small notebook retrieved from the ministry.
“What’s that book for anyway?” Carl’s friend asked.
“My cheat book.”
“Cheat book?”
“Yeah, I use it to help calculate terminus locations in different universes based upon the start position.”
“So why was it in there?”
“That was my office.”
Carl’s friend was stunned. “You work in that place?”
“Used to. I was a wormhole statistician, but kinda exaggerated my experience to get the job. Caused quite a few incorrect jumps to incorrect universes and had to correct many of my mistakes. Came to a head when they were actually working on rules and guidelines for jumps with salads. Had to go to the bathroom real bad that day, long meeting. Damn they can talk. Anyway, I told them there shouldn’t be any problems with the rule sets as I went to go and, well, wouldn’t you know, they actually signed off on everything. A lot of salads were anxious to go on vacation.”
“So what you’re saying is, this is all your fault?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I helped things along, unfortunately. That’s why I’m a guide now.”
“So this is all your fault?”
“Look, don’t confuse the issues with facts,” the guide responded looking at the watch-like device on his wrist. Reaching down and grabbing hands full of rocks, he started shoveling them into Carl’s friend’s pockets and then some into his own, many of them actually being heavier than their actual appearance.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, more rocks being stuffed into his pockets.
“I’ll tell you later. We just need to put as many rocks in your pockets as you can carry, and then we gotta find a shower.”